Has No Problem Espresso-ing Herself, Part 5

, , , , | Right | October 10, 2017

(I am a waiter at a cafeteria. A man and a woman come in and sit. I give them the menus.)

Woman: “Excuse me. What is the espresso macchiato?”

Me: “It’s a cup of espresso with foamed milk.”

Woman: “I’ll have that. Big, please.”

Me: “There is only one size, miss. It’s small. Really small.”

Woman: “It’s okay.”

Me: “And for you, sir.”

Man: “Nothing for me, thanks. We’ll share.”

Me: “Are you sure? The espresso is a really, really small drink.”

(I point at the cup of another customer, who is having an espresso.)

Man: “That’s okay.”

(I take the order and send it in. I return with the tray with the small espresso cup on top. The woman has a disappointment expression on her face. The man just laughs.)

Man: “You were not kidding!”

Me: “No, it’s this small.”

(The woman whispers something to the man. They both stand up and leave. I tell them that they have to pay for the drink, since they already ordered it, and we already prepared it. The man pays for the espresso and gives the cup to the woman. The woman, kind of pissed, takes the cup, and when they exit the cafe she throws the cup on the bushes. My manager comes in, and the woman talks to him, not knowing he is my manager.)

Woman: “Don’t go in there; they try to scam you with the drinks.”

(My manager asked me about this after they left, and face-palmed when I explained.)

Got The Time Most Of The Time

, , , | Friendly | September 7, 2017

(I am on vacation in Mexico, hanging out with some fellow campers. I have been at this particular spot for a couple months longer than them, and have gotten used to its natural cycles.)

Camper #1: “Oh, hey, what time is it?”

Me: “It’s…” *I look at the sky, hold up an arm, and judge the distance between it and one of the constellations.* “…about 10 o’clock.”

Camper #2: “I’m going to check that, and if you’re right, that’s awesome.” *looks at his cellphone* “It’s 10:07! Wicked!”

(Over time, I got less accurate, since the position of stars change throughout the year, but my estimates were still within an hour of the actual time.)

Surfing Through Some Wonderful Encounters

, , , , , | Hopeless | September 6, 2017

Years ago, my dad and brother went to Mexico. One day, they were in the nearest town for supplies when my dad ran into a woman in the grocery store who gave him a recommendation on mango juice. They chatted for a bit, then said their goodbyes. Later, they were in the parking lot, and the woman walked by. She noticed his license plate, and they discovered that they were from the same area of islands in Canada, though she had been living in Mexico for several years. So they exchanged contact information, and my family returned to camp.

A couple weeks later, my brother was surfing on his short-board. During a wipeout, his board went between his legs, and the fin sliced his calf rather deeply. Someone in camp bandaged his leg, while another fetched Dad from out in the water. Dad threw his mattress into the back of the truck, loaded up my brother, and drove to Guerrero Negro as fast as he could (which couldn’t have been at all pleasant for my brother, considering it’s a one- to two-hour trip, 30 minutes of which on a very bumpy dirt road).

Eventually they reached town and got him to a doctor, at which point Dad called the woman he’d met at the store to help him with translating. When she arrived, all the work had been done, and Dad wasn’t sure what to do about payment. He had her ask about it, and according to her, the doctor laughed and asked, “We charge for this?”

Afterwards, my dad returned to camp while my brother stayed with the woman and her family, since it seemed cruel to have him lying on the beach, watching everyone else in the water, doing what he couldn’t. He was with them for a month, and made good friends with the daughter, who was about our age.

Dad stayed in touch with them over the years, and a decade later, I went down with him and got to meet them. When I mentioned the story to the daughter, she was really surprised about how it happened. Apparently, my brother told her he was attacked by a shark, and she believed it right up until I told her otherwise.

Unfiltered Story #91669

, | Unfiltered | August 17, 2017

(My dad brought me to Mexico for a vacation when I was 20. I get talking about when I was a kid.)

Me: “I used to make myself pancakes every weekend. It was my little ritual. Every Saturday for 2-3 years I’d wake up early, watch cartoons, and make pancakes while Mom slept in. Eventually I got to the point that I had the entire recipe memorized…”

Dad: *nodding with an interested look*

Me: “…can’t f*****’ stand them now.”

Dad: “HAH! I was just about to ask why we haven’t had any pancakes yet!”

Me: “Well, there’s your answer. I had too much of a good thing. I pancaked myself out!”

(I haven’t made them since I was twelve. Fifteen years later, I still can’t take more than two bites of one without becoming completely disgusted.)

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Wearing A Shirt Of Lies

, , , | Right | June 27, 2017

(This is a conversation I had through the customer service chat.)

Client: “I want to return a t-shirt.”

Me: “Sure thing. We accept returns that haven’t been worn and with the receipt. What’s the problem with it?”

Client: “It’s all torn up!”

Me: “I’m sorry to hear that. Did you get the shirt like that from the store?”

Client: “No, but the moment I put it on my son, it tore up.”

Me: “Just like that?”

Client: “Well, he spent just one day with it and now it’s all torn up. It’s low quality.”

Me: “I’m sorry. That’s never happened before. I can do a refund for you. When was this purchased?”

Client: “Just last month.”

Me: “Okay, let me check the code… It says here you bought it in January.”

Client: “Oh, maybe.”

Me: “It’s June.”

Client: “Well, I’m busy and I’m not in the same city as your store. I can’t just go. Can’t you just deposit the money into my account?”

Me: “I’m sorry, we don’t offer that service and you need to bring in the shirt in order to give you a refund.”

Client: “What if you give me a new one?”

Me: “I’m sorry, but considering the timing and the circumstances, I can’t exchange it. I need to talk to the supplier about this.”

Client: “But my son loves that shirt. He never takes it off.”

Me: “…so it wasn’t a one use thing?”

Client: “I said it was, right? So it was. I’ll send a friend to pick up a new shirt.”

Me: “Please don’t. We can’t sell you another shirt since we risk this happening again. I’ll give you a refund, but we can’t sell to you again.”

Client: “Fine. I’ll send for the money.”