No Prepay Or Go Away

, , , | Right | May 6, 2020

The store’s phone rings right as a customer walks in. I speak to the caller.

Me: “Hi, this is [Store], [My Name] speaking. Can you please hold on a second? Someone just walked in.”

Caller: “Sure, no problem, sweetie. Take your time.”

I lay the phone on the counter and smile at the customer as he approaches the counter.

Me: “Hi, how can I help you?”

The customer approaches, pulling out a credit card.

Customer: “I need $50 on pump number two.”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t prepay fuel with a credit card. You can either leave your card with me as collateral or pay at the pump.”

Customer: *Suddenly livid* “Then why the h*** does it say, ‘PREPAY ONLY,’ on your pumps?”

Me: “It’s for cash customers, sir.”

Customer: *Shouting* “Then why doesn’t it say, ‘Cash customers prepay’?”

Me: “I’m not sure, sir. I didn’t print up those signs. Honestly, I couldn’t tell you who did, either.”

Customer: “FINE! WHATEVER!”

He stomps out and starts fiddling with the pump and I pick up the phone.

Me: “I’m so sorry about that, ma’am.”

Customer: “That’s okay, honey. Can you see if you have any flour?”

Me: “Sure.”

I walk around the counter and, right as I take one step down the aisle where the flour is kept, the customer storms back in the store and glares at me, before yelling.

Customer: “I can’t get the stupid, d***ed thing to work!”

He throws money at me.

Customer: “There’s fifty dollars in cash! Set the g**d***ed pump!”

Me: *Smiling* “Yes, sir. I’ll do that.”

I apologize to the caller again as I set his pump. I go back in search of the flour, but before I can confirm it, the customer stomps into the store again, screaming and pointing an accusing finger at me.

Customer: “And you need to stay off that f****** phone when you’ve got a g**d*** customer!”

I rub my temples.

Me: “Sir, the person on the phone is a customer, too.”

Customer: “Whatever! F*** you, you stupid, lying b****!”

I sigh.

Me: “Have a good day, sir.”

I wait until he drives off before I attempt to talk to the caller again.

Me: “I’m so sorry about that, ma’am. We do have flour.”

Caller: “Thank you, honey. And I’m sorry that you got screamed at because I called you.”

Me: *Laughing* “Oh, it’s okay, ma’am. It’s not your fault he’s stupid.”

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Ah, Yes, The Old “Ignore It And Hope It Goes Away” Strategy

, , , , , , , | Working | May 4, 2020

I am fourteen years old and not very assertive. I go to a rollerskating rink with a friend who’s a year younger than me. My friend spots a few friends of hers and goes off briefly to skate with them, but while she’s gone, I trip on the skating rink and end up hurting my elbow. My friend comes up, and I tell her that I think I’ll be okay. I sit at a booth on the edge of the rink, but the pain doesn’t fade and feels pretty bad.

I approach the concession stand. Half a dozen employees are there, and they all pause to look at me.

Employee: “Hi. What can we get you?”

Me: “I fell on the rink and hurt my elbow…”

The employees immediately scattered and started doing other things. I stood there for an instant, hoping they would come back to me, but they didn’t.

I left and sat back down, unsure what to do. I eventually got back up, went back to the stand, and specifically asked for some ice. They gave me some in a cup. I sat back down and waited for my friend’s mom to pick us up.

When I told my dad about it later, he suggested that the employees didn’t want to be liable for my accident, so that’s why they ignored me. I wonder why the employees would expect a fourteen-year-old girl to sue them.

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Unfiltered Story #192482

, , | Unfiltered | April 27, 2020

I’m the manager of a portrait photography studio. We have a certain procedure we have to follow for every session, at least 4 backgrounds, 60+ shots. Our corporate policy won’t allow us to load the photos on the computers without the minimum required number of shots and backgrounds.

This story was from a couple weeks ago. I had a session where parents had me taking photos of their newborn baby girl. She was about two weeks old. The mother had called the day before to set up the appointment, and I let her know the policy on number of shots and backgrounds, as I do with everyone. She said that was fine, and that was that. The next day, she and her husband come in with the baby, and we get started. We get through two backgrounds and the baby starts to get fussy. Since we don’t have any other customers for at least 3 hours, I tell them to go ahead and feed the baby, change them if need be, and to take as long as they need, and then we’ll continue. At first they’re totally okay with it, and sit down with the child to feed her. The father leaves, and when he comes back, he’s carrying two Starbucks drinks. We don’t allow food or drink (aside from baby bottles) in the studio, and it’s clearly labeled on the door. My employee (we’ll call him Bob) notices first.

Bob: “I’m sorry sir, but we don’t allow any food or drink in the studio.”

Father: “What? Since when?”

Bob: “We’ve never allowed food or drink in here sir, it’s posted on the door.”

Father: “Well, what am I supposed to do with these then??”

Bob: “Look, we can make this exception – as long as you don’t go past the tiles, you can drink it.” (Most of the studio is carpeted, except for the entrance way, which is tiled)

Father: “I paid for these, they’re going to go to waste now! This is ridiculous. These drinks cost more than any of these photos!!”

All of us working there are having a hard time keeping a straight face at this statement – the cheapest our photos run is $20, for one pose. Other packages run from $70-$300.

Bob: “I’m sorry sir, but that’s company policy. You’re going to have to leave those here.”

Father: “So let me get this straight. You don’t allow food or drink in this studio, but you allow babies in, who p*ss and sh*t everywhere?”

At this point, I come back from the printer room, where I was finishing something up on the computer.

Bob: “Um…we can’t exactly tell people that they aren’t allowed to bring their babies into our studio, sir.”

Not to mention, babies make up at least 70% of the photos we take. At this point, the father turns to me and tells me he wants to just load up the photos now and look at what we’ve already got.

Me: “I’m sorry sir, but as I explained earlier, we have to take a certain number of photos before we can even load up.”

He gets annoyed and goes over to talk to his wife (leaving the drinks on the counter. A few minutes later, they pack up their stuff and come back to us, telling me they don’t want to continue.

Mother: “It’s just too many photos, she’s not going to sit through them all patiently, she’s a baby! No baby could go through all those photos with no problem!”

(Actually, babies go through them all the time with very few problems)

Me: “I understand ma’am, but that’s our company policy, and we do it for everyone.”

Mother: “Well, thanks anyway. We’re just going to go. It’s just too much.”

Father: “So you’re saying if it was a family of 5, they’d still have to go through at least 60 photos?”

Me: “Yes sir. We give everyone the same experience.”

Father: (shakes head) “That’s ridiculous.”

They leave after that, leaving Bob and I glancing at each other.

Bob: “So…they really think we’re going to tell people they have to leave their babies outside?”

The reason I’m posting this now, instead of when it happened, is because I put it out of my mind. Until I got a call from my corporate office, telling me that these people called them and complained. I wasn’t in trouble, they just wanted to get my side of the story and make sure I wasn’t being rude. When I told the guy what the father said about babies, he let out a disbelieving chuckle and said,
“Wait, did he want you to tell him his baby wasn’t allowed in?”

Best Not To Pursue This Younique Vector

, , , , , , | Friendly | April 24, 2020

After several years of not being in contact, a friend from college messages me on social media.

Friend: “Hey, girl! How’s it going?”

Me: “I’m good. How are you?”

Friend: “I’m great. Hey, listen. I just partnered with this great company and I obviously thought of you right away. I’d love to schedule with you sometime to tell you more.”

Me: “What is it?”

Friend: “Oh, it’s a lot of info to go over via text. What about lunch tomorrow?”

Me: “I don’t know. What’s the company’s name?”

Friend: “I’ll tell you all about it when we see each other.”

Me: “You can’t even tell me what the company is? This sounds weird… like, pyramid-scheme weird.”

Friend: “Oh, no, I’d never do that to you!”

Me: “How did you get involved?”

Friend: “Oh, [Her Friend] told me.”

Me: “What made you think of me?”

Friend: “Like I said, it’s a lot. Can you meet?”

Me: “Not unless you tell me the company’s name.”

Friend: “Why is that so important? Don’t you trust me?”

Me: “We haven’t spoken in at least eight years. You came out of the blue saying you have something to show me but you can’t tell me anything about it. Why should I do this?”

Friend: “Because it’s a great opportunity!”

Me: “Then tell me the company’s name!”

Friend: “Look. Just meet with me. I’ll explain everything.”

Me: “No, thanks. Good luck with your mystery business.”

Friend: “All right. Your loss!”

She blocked me.

I found out through a few mutual friends that she was trying to sell a popular pyramid scheme company. Not sure how she’s making out with it, but I hope she’s found a less shady way to make money.

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Reflect On Rejection Of Rectory Reflections

, , , , , | Learning | April 20, 2020

I go to a private Catholic high school; however, there aren’t really any non-religious private schools in the area so a decent amount of the students, myself included, are just there for the education and couldn’t care less about the religious aspects of the school.

Every year during Lent, my school sends out daily Lenten reflections through our email. During my senior year, these emails come up in conversation in one of my classes.

Teacher: “Oh! Did y’all read the Lenten reflection yesterday? I thought it was so good.”

Friend: *Laughing* “No, I just delete those as soon as I see them in my inbox.”

Almost all of my classmates nod their heads in agreement with my friend. The teacher genuinely looks bewildered.

Teacher: “Wha— What? Why not?! They’re always so sweet.”

Half The Class: “I’m not religious.”

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