This Tita Gets Her Cable Set Up In Time To “Eat Bulaga!”

, , , , | Right | November 30, 2018

(I work at an inbound call center for a health insurance company.)

Me: “Thank you for calling [Company]. My name is [My Name]. With whom am I speaking today?”

Caller: *yells at me in a foreign language*

Me: “Ma’am, would you like me to get a translator on the line for you?”

Caller: “Yes, please!”

(A few minutes later.)

Me: “Okay, ma’am, I have the translator on the line.”

(The translator introduces himself. The woman is still yelling but now having a conversation with the translator.)

Me: “Um… can I have your member ID number for verification purposes?”

(The woman says something to the translator.)

Translator: “She says she doesn’t have one; she wants to know what channel the Filipino Channel is on.”

Me: “Can you tell her she’s calling a health insurance company in Massachusetts? And that she needs to call her cable provider?”

If You Want A Book About Everything And Nothing: Settle For The Bible

, , , , | Right | November 30, 2018

(I work in a bookstore in customer service. I restocking a shelf when a customer possibly in her mid-20s approaches me for assistance finding a book.)

Me: “What can I help you find today?”

Customer: *currently browsing self-help books* “I’m looking for a present for my boyfriend.”

Me: “Did you have something specific in mind, or were you looking for recommendations?”

Customer: “Recommendations. I want something either for teenagers or adults. And it can be nonfiction or fiction. And preferably religious or non-religious. And that has a male protagonist. And it can be sci-fi, fantasy, or realistic. And it can either be a series or a single book.”

(So, basically the whole store.)

Me: “And how old is your boyfriend?”

Customer: “He’s a teenager.”

Me: “I can show you some of our more popular teen fiction series. Here’s one I’ve read that is my favorite and has a strong male lead.”

Customer: “He’s 25. Is this religious?”

Me: “Oh, uh, then he might not enjoy the teen fiction section. But we are the same age, and I still like some of them, particularly the one I showed you. I can show you our religion section, though. If you want something religious, it would be there. Is that something he’s interested in?”

Customer: “No. I don’t want religious, but I do. You know?”

(She takes the young adult books I recommended and follows me to the religion section, constantly mumbling to herself and repeating, “I don’t know,” under her breath and laughing.)

Me: “Here’s our selection of religious books. I’m not familiar with my titles in this section, but can find someone better equipped to help you.”

Customer: “No, no. This is not what I want. I don’t want this. Take me back to the other section.”

(I took her back to our young adult fiction section and let her browse, but told to let me know if she had any questions. I saw her later asking a coworker if a different book from our teen fiction section was religious. The worker told her no, and she screamed, “I don’t want religious!” loud enough for other customers to stop and stare. She walked away looking confused and ended up buying him a Bible.)

From Zero To Sixty To Zero

, , , , , | Working | November 28, 2018

(I take a bathroom break, and my supervisor tells me I have one minute. Twenty seconds after I get in the stall, another employee enters the bathroom and to use the urinal. Five seconds later, the bathroom door again opens.)

Supervisor: “Forty-five, forty-six, forty-seven…”

(The supervisor leaves.)

Other Employee: *whose voice I recognize as the supervisor of the receiving department* “What was that about?”

Me: “He told me I have a minute.”

(The receiving supervisor leaves, and then I finish up, wash my hands, and head back to the sales floor. The way the store is set up, to go from the employee bathroom to the sales floor you have to pass by the store manager’s office.)

Manager: “[My Name], can I see you for a minute?”

Me: “Sure, what about?”

Manager: “Did [Supervisor] tell you that you only had a minute to use the bathroom?”

Me: “Yes.”

Manager: “Okay, that’s all I needed to know. Go back to work.”

(I head back out onto the floor, and from there the parking lot to gather carriages. As I walk out the front door of the store, a coworker’s radio crackles to life.)

Manager: “[Supervisor], can I see you in my office?”

(Five minutes later I saw another supervisor, who I know lives around the corner and is supposed to have the day off, get out of her car and head into the store. Ten minutes after that, the first supervisor left the store, gave me a death glare, got in his car, and tore a** out of the parking lot… only to get pulled over by a state trooper for running the red light at the parking lot exit. When I got back inside, I learned he had been fired, and later that year I learned the incident with me was the straw that broke the camel’s back; he had been harassing several employees for the past year, but this was the first time it was witnessed by another supervisor.)

Coyote Ugly Parenting

, , , , , , , | Friendly | November 28, 2018

(My mail arrives late on this summer day, somewhere around 6:00 pm. I haven’t taken more than three steps when I hear an unfamiliar sound. Part of it reminds me of a tree snapping, but it sounds too metallic. Also, there is something like a patter mixed in, along with something like heavy breathing. Curiosity gets the better of me, so I follow it next door. Less than a second after I walk past my fence, I am looking straight into the answer’s eyes, and I run back to my door. The tree and metal snapping sounds are my neighbor’s fence being torn away. The patter is digging. And the heavy breathing is coming from the coyote doing it. However, I probably look like a fool, since that thing decides to ignore me as soon as I am gone, and goes back to digging. Once I am back inside and have ensured that my dog is, as well, I go to the back of my house to try and figure out why the coyote is so determined to get in my neighbor’s backyard. That takes all of two seconds. The moment I peek out the blinds, I see my neighbor sticking her head out the window, checking on her five-year-old daughter playing in the backyard. I quickly stick my head out the window, too.)

Me: “[Neighbor]! Bring your kid in! There’s a coyote trying to get into your yard!”

Neighbor: “No, no. It’s just someone’s dog. It’s fine. We don’t have vicious dogs around here.”

Me: “Lady, I looked right at it! It’s a coyote! Get your kid out of there before it tears down your fence!”

Neighbor: “It’s not going to hurt anyone! It just wants to play nice!”

Me: “Tell that to your fence!”

Neighbor: *sighs* “Fine! [DAUGHTER]! COME INSIDE AND WASH UP!”

(Thankfully, her daughter comes right in. A few minutes later, the noises stop. I poke my head out again and see the coyote running around her backyard.)

Neighbor: “THAT’S A F****** COYOTE!”

(It went away before the police or animal control could arrive. Neither my dog nor my neighbor’s daughter were left outside unattended for a long while after that, though we’ve yet to see another coyote or any evidence of one.)

You Do The Hokey-Pokey And You Score An A

, , , , , , | Learning | November 26, 2018

I failed my first psychology course and was determined not to let it happen again. My professor in the next course was very conceited, and annoyingly so. He bragged about being a veteran, and said that his last name translated to “war” in another language, so naturally he was one of the best soldiers. He bragged about his doctorate degree and how smart he was, and said that we had better pay attention and learn from him and his accomplishments. He bragged about how tough his courses were and the fact that many of us would fail. Basically, he was an a**hole all around.

I attended every class, I paid attention, I took notes, I did all the homework, and I studied for the tests. There would be three tests throughout the semester making up most of the grade. He handed out blue books, gave us five questions, and told us to answer any three questions, as long as the answers were in paragraph form and at least three pages each. I tend to write small and close together, so I filled in as much as I could in my normal writing with as much information as I could remember on the subject, but I couldn’t fill all of the pages. My first test came back as a 67%. This was not good if I wanted to pass the class with a decent grade.

While taking my second test, I saw the professor grading another class’s test books. He would open the book, flip, flip, flip, flip, flip, flip, flip, flip, flip, close the book, and write a grade on it. It couldn’t have been more than ten seconds per test. After writing as much information as I could about the questions in bigger, spaced-out writing, I still fell short on my page requirements. I finished my pages talking about how I was noticing him grade tests, and how I was going to fill in the space with words that didn’t have anything to do with the subject material just to see if he noticed. When I got my second test back, it was 100%. Success!

For the third and final test, I wrote as much information as I could in big, spaced-out writing, then finished my pages with the lyrics to the “Hokey Pokey” and “Row, Row, Row Your Boat” with some psychology terms sprinkled in. “You put your cerebral cortex in, you take your frontal lobe out, you put your parietal lobe in, and you shake it all about…” My grade? 100%

And that’s the story on how I aced a class by writing song lyrics on the tests. I like to call it a psychology experiment.

Unrelated, but six years later, I learned that my coworker also had him as a professor, hated him equally as a professor, but later married his son and said he was a fantastic father-in-law.

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