Bet You Dollars To Donuts They Will Complain

, , , , | | Working | May 19, 2019

(I work at a popular donut chain in this state in one of the very few without a drive-thru. Most of the stores close at eight, but have a drive-thru open until midnight or later. I get a phone call ten minutes before eight.)

Caller: “How late are you open until?”

Me: “Doors lock at eight.”

(The caller then promptly hangs up. As it’s getting close to closing, I start going through the counts and moving most of the racks and pots to the cleaning station. At eight, I go and lock the doors and shut off the lights. Thirty minutes later, as I’m bringing the leftover donuts to the dumpster, I almost get taken out by an SUV. The driver and passenger get out and run to the door. I take a picture of them, holding my watch up so the time can be seen, as well, because I’m pretty sure this is going to be a complaint.)

Driver: “Are you f****** kidding me?! That b**** said they were open! Why are the d*** doors locked?!”

Passenger: “This is an injustice! We’ll have her job with this one!”

(They haven’t noticed me at the dumpster, and they tear out of the parking lot. The next morning, the owner is in the store and pulls me into this office.)

Owner: “So, I heard you closed the store down early and laughed in a customer’s face while they were politely trying to ask you if they could just get a coffee and sandwich.”

Me: “That’s ridiculous.”

Owner: “The man said he called at five and asked if you were open, and they showed up at six and you’d locked the doors in his face.”

Me: “First of all, the only call I got was at 7:50, and the people didn’t show up until 8:30; they were making all sorts of noise and being all sorts of rude.”

Owner: “Do you have any proof of that? At this point it’s your word against his.”

(I pulled up the picture I took showing my watch and the customers. The owner shrugged and I went to start my shift, without an apology, and I left two weeks later because if he wasn’t going to have my back in that situation or admit a customer could have been wrong, I didn’t need that job.)

Going Back To Knight School

, , , , , , | | Related | May 18, 2019

(When I’m in junior high school, my mother cannot, by any stretch, get my Language Arts teacher’s name right. For the sake of exemplifying how she butchers it, we’re going to say my teacher’s name is Ms. Knightly, and she always says, “Ms. Kin-ig-hit-ly.” The hyphens are just for show; she says it at a normal pace. After the first report cards and the subsequent Parent-Teacher night to discuss students’ progress, this conversation follows.)

Mom: “Ms. Kin-ig-hit-ly had nothing but praise for you.”

Me: “Knightly, Mom. Her name is Ms. Knightly.”

Mom: “Oh, okay. Yeah…” *goes on about my other teachers* “…but Ms. Kin-ig-hit-ly adores you.”

(Different versions of this story play out almost daily following this meeting, with no change ever being made. I figure the inevitable reality is she is never going to get it right, so I stop caring so much once she realizes she should never address my teacher by name if she sees her. Later that same year, my grandmother dies. We make funeral arrangements, and this happens:)

Mom: “The closest funeral home to her church and the cemetery would be Knightly Funeral Parlor.”

Me: “Where?”

Mom: “Knightly Funeral Parlor.”

Me: “What’s my teacher’s name again?”

Mom: “Ms. Kin-ig-hit-ly.”

Me: “Mom, it’s the same as the funeral parlor, down to the spelling. You just pronounced that perfectly.”

Mom: “Really? Huh.”

Me: “So, what’s my Language Arts teacher’s name?”

Mom: “Kin-ig-hit-ly.”

(No, she wasn’t screwing with me. So, some form of the first conversation continued until I transferred schools and no longer had Ms. Knightly. And it continues to this day when my mother decides to reminisce about my school life and comes to my year with Ms. Knightly.)

Unfiltered Story #150953

, , | | Unfiltered | May 14, 2019

(I’m a part-time receptionist at a very popular historical archives. All of the full-time employees are trained as reference archivists, and take a shift sitting at the reference desk to answer questions and fetch materials for researchers. This week, there is a conference for activist organizations and we’re all extremely busy, because although another department is technically in charge of the conference, several of my coworkers were involved in the planning. On the first day, the activists take a tour on the archives, and on the second day they have an optional two-hour block built in their schedule in case they want to come study materials relevant to their causes. About an hour into this block, I get a call from one of the women in charge of the conference.)
Caller: Can I speak to [Coworker 1], please?
Me: I’m sorry, she’s not in right now. Can I take a message?
Caller: I need to talk to the archivist who is working with the activists. It’s supposed to be Coworker 1.
Me: Her shift on the reference desk was earlier today. [Coworker 2] is helping them now; I can transfer you to her.
Caller: Why isn’t Coworker 1 there? She’s supposed to be with them. Who else is there besides Coworker 2?
Me: No one, but I’m sure she can help you with whatever you need.
Caller: There should be multiple people helping them! Coworker 1 should be there!
Me: There’s only about ten or fifteen people here, and many of them are studying the same collections they looked at yesterday, so Coworker 2 can manage by herself. I’m sorry, but no one else is available right now.
Caller: They were supposed to be there!
(We go back and forth for almost five minutes as she insists that she can only talk to someone who was directly involved with planning the conference.)
Caller: Oh wait… Coworker 1 just walked into the room. She came to join the conference. I guess I’ll talk to Coworker 2, then.
(Relieved, I try to transfer the call, but I realize that, while we were talking, the archivist left in order to get materials for one of the researchers.)
Me: I’m so sorry… Coworker 2 has stepped away from the desk. Would you mind being put on hold, or can I take a message?
Caller: Can you just tell the activists who are there that they’re missing the ice cream social? It started fifteen minutes ago and they’re late.
(I was completely speechless for about fifteen full seconds. I managed to say “sure,” hung up, and went on my break.)

I Will Not Not Do As You Say

, , , , | | Right | May 13, 2019

(I take escalated calls for a national insurance agency. In insurance, any time a change is made to your policy that impacts the cost, the company must notify you. The notification can be in mailed paper form, or email/virtual if you’ve set it up that way.)

Me: “Thank you for calling. My name is [My Name]. The previous representative said you had some concerns about the paperwork you received. How can I help?”

(The customer goes on to explain that over the course of the year she has received many copies of her policy. She has made as many 12 changes due to failure to return forms and other things. She explains that she is old and her time is precious at her age — her words — as she doesn’t have much of it left, and that we shouldn’t bother her with mailings, because then she has to call us.)

Me: “I want to be respectful of your time. You received this mailing because of a discount we finalized on your policy. There’s no action required on your part. You will not receive anything further unless you make other changes, I assure you.”

Customer: “You’re just trying to harass me with all this paperwork. I don’t even know what coverage I have! Your company just wants to overcharge the elderly and harass us.”

Me: “I’m sorry for the confusion. The documents you have there outline all the details of your coverage. Again, I want to respect your time, but I’d be happy to review those coverages if you need me to. Also, we are not charging you anything more; we’ve applied a discount. How can I help?”

Customer: “You can stop sending me stuff. I’ve gotten so much stuff this last year…”

(The customer continues on a long rant, and I continue to apologise and ask how I can help, only to ultimately assure her over and over again that we are not sending any additional paperwork.)

Customer: “So, you’re not going to do anything about this?”

Me: “Ma’am, you literally just instructed me not to do anything. You said not to send you anything, and not to make any changes. So, yes, that’s right, I’m not going to ‘do anything.’ Is there anything else I can help you with?”

(This went on for thirty minutes of her “precious time.”)

Unfiltered Story #150923

, , | | Unfiltered | May 13, 2019

Me: High how may I help you.
Customer: Can I have the Tuscan salami?
Me: Here (Shows customer salami)
Customer: yeah that but could you make it wider?
Me: a thick slice?
Customer(while gesturing with hands): No more girth
Me: I can get a new piece if you’d like.
Customer: no I want that one only wider
Me (slowly dying inside): I’ll see what I can do

Page 1/6912345...Last