Thinking Outside The Box And The Car

, , , | Right | January 2, 2018

(I work at a DIY store which sells six-piece garden furniture sets all in one box. These boxes are not small, as you could imagine.)

Me: “Hi there, are you okay? Do you need anything?”

Customer: “Well, we like [set in the box], please. Can you help it to my car?”

Me: “Of course, that’s what I’m here for. Is your car a decent size, as the box is quite hefty and large?”

Customer: “Yeah, it will fit; no problem.”

Me: *thinking he has a van or pickup* “Okay, great. Let me get you a trolley.”

(We load the box up and pay through the till and out we go.)

Me: *looking into the car park* “Which is yours?”

Customer: “Oh, the red one over there.”

(I glance up and see a little car.)

Me: “Really? There’s no way this will fit into that. You don’t have any boot space or a back seat to put it on?”

Customer: *looking a bit irate as I’ve doubted him, taking the trolley off me* ” Of course it will; I’ve had these before without a problem. You just don’t know what you’re doing.” *humph*

Me: “Okay, if you’re sure and you don’t want my help. If you need me I will be inside.”

(I got called to the main desk about 30 minutes later by my coworker who was watching them struggle, and she turned to me and asked why didn’t I help. I just rolled my eyes at her and she nodded with a knowing smile. He did manage to fit it in an hour later; however, his girlfriend had to make her own way home from our store as there wasn’t room for both of them in the car.)

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The Solution Is As Clear As Glass

, , , | Healthy | December 29, 2017

(I need to get new spectacles, so I get assessed. During the sight test, the optometrist notices I have the start of macular degeneration in one eye, tells me it isn’t serious at the moment, but warns me to watch out for lines appearing wavy when they should be straight. She gives me a leaflet to put on my fridge door, so that I’ll look at it several times a day and be aware of the need to check. She also instructs me to come straight back for another test if anything changes. This all freaks me out a bit because I’ve never heard of macular degeneration, so I dutifully put the leaflet on my fridge door and inspect that thing every time I go in the fridge, for about a month. I start noticing the sight in my left eye is quite blurry. So, off I trot back to the optometrist. I explain everything to the receptionist, then the optometrist, a different one to my first visit. He sight-checks me then leaves the room for a few minutes. He comes back in and asks if I mind him checking again. I don’t mind, but by now I’m sweating and my imagination’s working overtime. He does the same tests and asks me to explain again what the problem is.)

Me: “Look. I cover up my right eye…” *demonstrates* “… and you’re blurry. I cover up my left eye instead…” *demonstrates* “… and you’re not blurry.”

Optometrist: “Well, Mrs [My Name], both sight tests we’ve conducted today show no changes to the other test we did recently.”

Me: “Seriously? But I’ve definitely got strange vision in my left eye? How is that, if the test results are the same? Look, doctor, if it’s psychosomatic, tell me. If you think I’m dreaming it up because I’m so worried about losing my sight and I need a psychiatrist, just tell me straight. I really can handle it.”

(By this time, I’m near tears. I don’t know whether I’m losing my sight or my marbles.)

Optometrist: “Show me again.”

(Demonstrates covering up the eyes, etc.)

Optometrist: “I… might be a bit off course here but… did we provide your glasses?”

Me: “Of course, yes.”

Optometrist: “It looks like the common denominator is your glasses. Let’s get them realigned and see.”

(Aaaand I felt a fool. Mind you, so should they, too. My ‘demonstrations’ of blurry vs normal sight were done wearing my specs. The sight tests had been done WITHOUT my specs. It turned out there was a minuscule adjustment needed for the left lens. He brought my specs back and the blurred vision was gone. At least I know I haven’t lost my marbles yet. Not about that, at least.)

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Stripped Of The Relevant Training

, , , , , | Working | October 30, 2017

(I am 17. I have left home and am broke, so I lie about my age to get a job in a nightclub. I am a month away from being 18, so I don’t feel too bad. There are no checks and screenings by a lot of places at this point in time. However, I am THE most naive young woman. I know nothing about how the world works in reality, and I find myself working in a nightclub that has seven different rooms and bars, all with different themes. I’ve never even been to a pub or bar socially before this night. I am assigned to [Bar #1], which is pretty normal, and most of the customers seem to be okay. I mess up quite a few drinks, but it is laughed off when I tell the customers it’s my first night. I am doing okay, I think, and even manage to navigate my way around the multi- and split-level corridors to get to the bathrooms and back. The place is a total warren. And then:)

Supervisor: *shouts over the music* “[My Name]! Go to [Bar #7]! They need a barmaid!”

Me: *shouts over the music* “Where’s [Bar #7]?”

Supervisor: *shouts over the music* “Downstairs! Ask someone on the way!”

(So off I trot, trying to find my way to [Bar #7], asking various customers and staff along the way. Whenever I ask for directions, however, I get comments like, “You don’t want to be going there, love,” or, “Why the h*** are they putting YOU there?” or, “Who the bloody h*** told YOU to go to [Bar #7]?” and so on. But nobody will tell me why I shouldn’t go there, so I get stubborn and carry on. When I finally find [Bar #7], 20 minutes later, I drag the door open, only to be blasted with deafening music – much louder than upstairs. I walk to the bar, and look at the shocked face of the barman there.)

Me: *angry now* “What on earth is the matter with everyone? Why shouldn’t I be here?”

(My new colleague just spluttered and pointed at the stage, going beetroot red in the face. I turned around just as a woman on stage was removing her last piece of clothing with a “TA-DAAA!” gesture. She posed there, stark naked, to rapturous applause from the 200 men watching her. The lights went down, she dashed off the stage, and all 200 men turned to face naive little me at the bar, who was standing there with her bottom jaw resting on the top of her prim little lace-up shoes. I was the only female in the room after a full-on strip show. Gulp. It actually didn’t turn out too badly. I think most of them saw me as a substitute daughter, while the rest were so embarrassed to be caught watching a stripper by a very shocked young woman that they left [Bar #7] in quite a hurry and bought drinks elsewhere.)

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Unfiltered Story #93223

, , | Unfiltered | September 5, 2017

(I work in Customer Services for a well known UK Department Store)

Me: Good morning, thank you for calling **** *****, my name is (my name), how can I help you today?

Customer: I want to check if you have a laptop in stock today.

Me: Thats not a problem, please can I take the make and model of the laptop and I will be happy to check for you.

Customer: Its 8gb RAM, 1tb storage, and it has a processor…

Me: …. Ok, so that’s the specification of the model you are looking for, but I will also need the make and model to be able to help you.

Customer: Oh yeah, it’s purple too!

Me: I’m sorry, but I’m afraid that I still need to know the brand at least..

Customer: I. JUST. TOLD. YOU.

Me: Do you happen to have any other information about the laptop, where have you seen it advertised…

Customer: PUT ME THROUGH TO THE ELECTRICAL DEPARTMENT NOW, YOU CLEARLY DONT KNOW WHAT YOU ARE TALKING ABOUT!

Me: Miss, I assure you that an employee in the department would ask the same questions as I am, the information you’re proving could relate to any laptop that we sell.

Customer: MANAGER! NOW!

Me: I will be happy to get a Manager for you, but could I ask what I have done incorrectly today?

Customer: I don’t want to speak to you anymore. GET. ME. A. MANAGER

Me: Okay, please hold.

*I put the customer on hold while pretending to get a Manager, my colleagues are able to hear the customer screaming and trying not to laugh*

Me: Thanks for waiting there, my Manager is fine for me to keep speaking with you as I have not done anything incorrectly. Now could we start again?

Customer: *SCREAMS* THIS IS TERRIBLE CUSTOMER SERVICE! I WILL NEVER SHOP WITH **** ***** AGAIN! * *click*

Colleague: What a b****!

Treat Others They Way You’re Mistreated

, , , | Right | August 27, 2017

(Our new manager has changed the format of our day rotas, adding space for a ‘thought for the day.’ However, he accidentally printed off about a hundred with the thought ‘treat others as you would like to be treated’ instead of with different thoughts. A supervisor has suggested we cross that out and add another one.)

Coworker #1: “Because we should do that one anyway.”

Coworker #2: “So it can’t be ‘do your job, get paid’?”

Me: “We should be doing that, too.”

Coworker #3: “It’s not a bad thought, though.”

Me: “It’s a terrible thought. If I acted the way some of these customers act towards us in a shop I would feel totally fine if the retail people smacked me across the face. I’d deserve it.”

Coworker #1: “So [My Name] should treat people the way they would like to be treated, not the way she expects to be treated?”

(We stop talking immediately as a customer passes our desk, as we’re supposed to do, and I ask if they need any help with anything today. The customer outright blanks me until they are almost at the door when I say, as I always do.)

Me: “All right then, guys, enjoy the rest of your day.”

(The customer heel-turns and looks like I did just slap them across the face, though I said it with a well-practiced genuine tone.)

Customer: “What did you just say?”

Me: “I said enjoy the rest of you day. Safe journey home, now.”

(As soon as the customer leaves, I add.)

Me: “Hell is a terrible commute.”

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