Unfiltered Story #157560

, , , | | Unfiltered | July 13, 2019

I work maintenance for the local mall and one day I was painting one of our barricades blue. (We build barricades to cover up store that have left)

Me: *standing on lift painting*
Mall Customer: “Really? Light Blue?”
Me: “Yup”
Customer: “Why the hell would you choose such a horrid color?”
Me: “I’m Sorry?”
Customer: “That blue is offensively bright, why would you choose such a disgusting color?”
Me: “I didn’t sir, the owner of the mall and the people working in administration select the colors, it is just my job to paint the wall in the color they provide me”
Customer: “Well you should get a different color.”
Me: “I cannot sir, this is the color designated to this barricade, I’m sorry if it offends you, but there is nothing I can do about it.”

The Customer then storms off and starts yelling at guest services about it until security persuaded him to leave the mall.

Trying To Get A Foot In On That Sale

, , , , , | | Working | July 11, 2019

(My friend and I are returning from a food court in a shopping mall when we get caught by one of those very aggressive lotion and cosmetic kiosk salesmen. I am one of those people who can’t seem to ignore them if I hear they’re speaking to me.)

Creepy Salesman: “Try this lotion on your hands, ladies? It will make your skin irresistibly soft!”

Me: “No, thank you; I don’t like anyone touching my hands.”

(We both continue walking away from him.)

Creepy Salesman: *calling at us loudly over the crowd* “Well, how about your feet?!”

Friends With Money (Problems)

, , , , , , , | | Friendly | July 10, 2019

(I am at the mall with a friend, who is also my roommate. We head into a cell phone provider, as I’m going to change my plan and buy a new phone. We get to talking about how expensive it all is. Side note: he’s notoriously bad with money.)

Friend: “I can barely pay my phone bill as it is. I can’t imagine paying [price] for a [brand-new model phone].”

Me: “I can’t afford it, either; that’s why I’m getting the older model. It’s on sale now, essentially free if you extend your contract.”

Friend: “Make sure you ask about cancellation fees. [Other Phone Company] was the worst when I couldn’t pay and tried to cancel my plan.”

Me: “Yeah, I’ll ask.”

Friend: “Or you can do what I did and just disappear.” *laughs*

Me: “What?” 

Friend: “Yeah, instead of giving [Other Phone Company] like 200 bucks to get out of the contract, I just stopped paying.”

Me: “But you still owe them that money, right? They can come after you for it.”

Friend: “Let’s see them find me.” 

Me: *silence*

Friend: *proudly* “I’ve moved twice since then. They’ll never get a penny from me.” *laughs*

Me: “That would kill your credit rating.” 

Friend: “What does that matter? I already have a credit card.” 

(It still boggles my mind. He was a good person, and smart in general, just absolutely clueless about money.)

Not What You Expected Skinny Noodles To Be

, , , , , , | | Working | July 8, 2019

(I am at a mall and decide to get lunch at the food court. I’m not up for fries and don’t feel like eating meat, so I take some fried noodles with veggies at a place with the usual westernized Asian fare. I get a plate and pay, then start to eat. After a couple of bites, I feel something in my mouth and pull a very long, thick, black hair from my mouth. I’m not the most squeamish person, but my appetite is gone. I decide to tell the lady who served me and is currently turning over the mountain of noodles they keep on their flat stove. She is not wearing a hat or hairnet, and has, well, quite a long, thick, black ponytail.)

Me: “Hi. I ordered these noodles and found a hair in them…”

(Almost before I can finish my sentence the lady barks back at me.)

Server: “That is not my hair. That is your hair. You put it in the food to get more free food!”

(I have a braid, but my hair is brownish-blond at the outgrown roots and a faded red in the lengths. It’s obviously not mine. The black hair is so thick, you can see it coiled on top of the yellowish noodles without having to look too close.)

Me: “Well, I can’t tell you whose it is, but it’s not mine. And I don’t want…”

(“…any free food; I just wanted to let you know!” is what I intend to say, but she again loudly speaks over me.)

Server: “No! You fat Germans always just want more food! Eat half and more, complain, and get another plate free!”

(She then TOOK THE PLATE from the counter between us and CHUCKED THE REST OF THE NOODLES at me! I instinctively stepped back but got some on my shoes nonetheless. I moved awkwardly and slipped on the saucy mess, falling rather unlucky on my hand. It hurt. A lot. I started crying and felt very shaken. A couple from a nearby table came over and some others got up, as well. Somebody told me to get up and sat me on a chair. Meanwhile, the server was shouting stuff in a language I didn’t understand. A guy in a suit from mall management came over and asked if I needed an ambulance. The man from the couple helping me talked to me, told me he was some sort of sports coach, and asked to see my wrist. He gently prodded it and moved it, proclaiming that it was probably not broken but I should get it checked anyway. I declined the ambulance; the suit-guy got me an ice pack from somewhere. They stayed with me until my boyfriend could pick me up, as I was still quite queasy, to drive me to the emergency room near our home. In the end, nothing was broken. The owner of the Asian shop contacted me through the mall and apologised a lot. He said his sister was going through some rough personal stuff and just snapped. I was almost sorry for her. But I will never enjoy Asian noodles without a bad feeling in my bones.)

Unfiltered Story #157508

, , , | | Unfiltered | July 8, 2019

(It’s the second-to-last-summer-weekend. My dad, my brother and I are coming from buying uniform clothes for the approaching schoolyear. After we leave the clothes store located on the 2nd floor, we head to the first floor of the mall, where the majority of the mall’s stores and restaurants are. We look for the nearest shoe store, which is located by one of the mall’s entrances. I’m looking for a new Jordan release in a size 12, men’s.

Me: *Finds the sneaker on display and hands it to the employee as I say* “Excuse me, do you have these in a size 12?”

(Three minutes or so pass by when the employee returns.)

Employee: Unfortunately, we only have these in size 10, because we’re a smaller store.

Dad: Do you know about any other shoe stores that might have what we’re looking for?

Employee: Um, you could try [Mall 15 minutes away], seeing how that store is much larger.

Dad: Ok, thanks.*Puts the shoe back on the rack I found it on*

(My dad, my brother, and I leave and go to another shoe store in the same mall that I suggest as an option. This one is next to a McDonalds. As we go into the other store, we think nothing of the music playing until we hear multiple f-bombs and other explicit words. Note: There are at least 5 people under 18, me, my brother, two children of another family and a young child by the store entrance. Once my dad heard what was being said in song that was playing, he called for us to leave.)

Me: *wide-eyed expression of shock after finding out that store plays explicit music*
“I did not know that place does that.”

(We leave to go to [Mall 15 minutes away] but before we leave the parking lot, we stop by the fast food restaurant near the entrance/exit to the mall’s parking lot. We eat inside and leave to go to the other mall. When we got to the shoe store in the second mall, we found the shoes I was looking for in my size. Later that day, my stepmom’s family came to visit from New York.)

Page 1/6312345...Last