Unfiltered Story #204365

, , , | Unfiltered | August 9, 2020

(I used to work at an animal shelter where the uniform was scrubs. The different departments, like adoptions, vet clinic, etc., had different coloured scrubs to signify different departments. My kennel cleaning department wore dark forest green scrubs. Right after work, during my drive home, is when I usually did my grocery shopping. It didn’t matter which store I went into, whether it be a store where they wear a white shirt and a lime green apron or a store where they wear deep blue shirts, the following conversation would happen in some form or other)

Me: *Minding my own business, pushing my own cart, doing my own shopping*
Other Customer: Excuse me, miss. Do you know where the (whatever item they’re looking for) is?
Me: *Shrugging* No idea. Sorry.
Other Customer: Don’t you work here?
Me: No. Sorry.

(I would usually get confused and distrusting looks after that but luckily nobody kicked up a fuss. This didn’t happen every time but it happened at least once every few months and it was frequent enough to become quite annoying)

That’s One Way To Unplug His Batteries

, , , , , , , | Working | July 14, 2020

My part of the world gets very cold in the winter, and I recently splurged on a pair of battery-powered gloves. When they’re switched on, they give off a small blue light.  

I am shopping for groceries and groan inwardly when I see my cashier. He’s a nice guy, but he never. Stops. Talking. I’ve learned to just nod and smile and give the occasional, “You got that right!” or “I know!”. Even if I wanted to engage in conversation, he’d never give me a chance to get a word in edgewise, anyway.

Cashier: “Blah blah blah.”

Me: “You bet.”

Cashier: “Blah blah blah.”

Me: “Ain’t that the truth?”

Cashier: “Blah— What’s that?!

Me: “You said it— Wait, what’s what?”

Cashier: “THAT!”

He points accusingly at the lights on my gloves.


Me: “No! Those are my gloves. They’re battery-powered.”

He glares at me suspiciously. 

Cashier: “Really? You’re not one of those secret shoppers?”

Me: “No!”

He conducted the rest of my transaction in complete silence.

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When Katy Perry Is Your Interviewer

, , , , , , | Working | July 8, 2020

When I am looking for a job, I find a listing that sounds right up my alley. I apply and get an interview.

I normally have fair-to-middling success at interviews; some are good, some not so good. This is one of the good ones; in fact, it is INCREDIBLE. I have answers for every question. I make my interviewer laugh a few times. We know some of the same people.

It goes so well, and it is such a good fit for me, I almost expect to be offered the job on the spot. Instead:

Interviewer: “Well, this has been a real pleasure.”

Me: “Thank you! I feel the same way.”

Interviewer: “We have one other candidate that we’re considering, but I should have an answer for you by the end of the week.”

Fair enough. I am a bit disappointed, but I am still optimistic. A couple of days later, I get this email from the interviewer:

Interviewer: “Thank you for your interest in [Company]. You were one of our top candidates, and it was very difficult to choose between you and the other person. In the end, that other person was slightly more qualified. But don’t give up! We’re hiring all the time, and another position will probably open up shortly. Please apply again, and mention my name in your application so that I see it right away.”

Well, that is very encouraging. Sure enough, only a couple of weeks later, I see another identical job posting from that company. I apply immediately, mentioning my interviewer’s name as she recommended.

A week goes by, then two, and then three. I think maybe my application has somehow slipped through the cracks, so I email the interviewer. I let her know that I’ve taken her advice and reapplied for [Position], and I am very much looking forward to hearing from her. I get back this response:

Interviewer: “Yes, we received your application. Thank you.”

That was it. I practically got frostbite reading it. I never got another interview with that company, and to this day, I have no idea what happened.

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The Cost Of Popularity

, , , , , , , | Working | June 26, 2020

My mum visits her bank to exchange some English currency for Canadian. This is during a time when any Tom, Dick, or Harry can do transactions of this nature without having to sign in first. Unbeknownst to her, there is a $5 fee associated with currency exchange; however, the bank teller forgets to charge her. So, Mum gets her money exchanged, doesn’t get charged a fee, and goes on her merry way.

A couple of weeks later, Mum gets her bank statement in the mail and it plainly says that a “$5 Currency Exchange Fee” has been withdrawn from her account. She is very cross and calls the bank.

Bank: “Yes, that’s because our teller forgot to charge you. She remembered after you left, recognized you, and took the money out of your account.”

Mum: “Let me get this straight: if I’d been just somebody off the street, and you’d forgotten to charge me, you would have waived the $5 fee?”

Bank: “That’s correct.”

Mum: “So, because I’m a loyal customer, you thought it was okay to help yourself to my money without notifying me first?”

Bank: “Um… Well, when you put it that way…”

Mum got her $5 back.

This story has been included in our June 2020 roundup as one of that month’s most memorable stories!

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Unfiltered Story #197503

, , , | Unfiltered | June 20, 2020

My first time working on boxing day was a very busy one to say the least, and on more than one occasion something strange happened but this one will always stick in my mind as the strangest thing that has ever happened to me working in retail.
I’d been working for about 2 hours now an I’d just gotten off my break, it was fairly busy but nowhere near as hectic as it had been earlier. I was rearranging the racks by size when an old Asian woman came up to me and asked, holding up a pair of extremely common sweatpants, “would you have this in a size medium at your franchise in San Diego?”. I was well and truly baffled and could only utter in my inexperience “what?”, She then scolded me that “I should know better” and that I was too inexperienced to be working at my age (at the time I was 16, it was my first job).
I don’t know if this story is that good but it is something I will never forget.