(I’m in the car with my mom. She’s talking to my dad and they are talking about taking the dog to the groomers.)
Mom: “We need to take the dog to the groomers every twelve weeks.”
Me: “So every three months.”
Mom: “No, four.”
Me: “How many weeks are in a month?”
Mom: “Four.”
Me: “What’s three times four?”
Mom: “Twelve… Oh, be quiet.”
(I work at a popular fast food chain with a two lane drive thru. It has been a slow day for the drive thru but there was a rush inside. The manager handling the other lane passes me her headset so I could do both lanes [which is no problem for me] about an hour later it starts to get a little busy. I still handle both lanes without a problem and this bit of playful banter occurred as the last person in the short rush was pulling up to my window.)
GM: Hey, need any help?
Me: Seriously? You are asking me this after the rush?
GM: You seemed to be doing fine. (holding another headset) I was about to help but the headset was broken
Me: Sure you were… it’s too late now, drive thru is about empty.
GM: Sorry, you just do such a good job we forgot
Me: As usual always forgotten back here.
GM: Sorry, thought I would offer now (he turns to head back up front)
Me: (as I was turning back to the window laughing a little) You are a brat, I swear I’m gonna hurt you
(customer only catches that last part)
Customer: What? Your gonna hurt me?
Me: No.. No.. I wasn’t talking to you.
Customer: (laughing a little) Oh good, I thought you were threatening me
Me: No… I was just threatening the General Manager.
(I had no problem with the manager or doing both lanes. We all joke around and are all on good terms. I love just about everyone I work with.)
(I work the third shift alone, and serve customers through a turnstile window. The intercom is designed to let me hear everything going on outside, but customers can’t hear me unless I push the button to talk. If a customer stands at the window, I can hear them from pretty much anywhere in the store, so i try to encourage people, through facial expressions, to ask for items while I’m still out from behind the counter. It doesn’t always work, so I get conversations like this:)
Customer: *hits buzzer and puts money in the turnstile/window*
Me: *offers up can-I-help-you look*
Customer: *points at money*
Me: *I walk over to the intercom* “How can I help you?”
(Customer points at money again, with a smug look.)
Me: “Okay, you have $20. Congratulations. Did you want soda-pop, cigarettes, or candy?”
Customer: *grins sheepishly* “Pump three, please.”
(During a friendly chat with my boss I let it slip that I like to wrench on vehicles in my spare time. Seizing at the opportunity to transform my favorite hobby into something I’ll soon hate, he appoints me the new go-to guy for anything even remotely related to mechanical subject matter. Even though we have reference books tied to the rack, I’m often paged to the automotive battery rack so I can look up the correct battery for them. Upon doing this, one of two reactions is guaranteed to unfold:
Customer: “Hi. I’m looking for a battery for my car.”
Me: “Sure! I’d be happy to get you all set. What kind of car is it?”
Customer: “It’s a little two-door.”
Me: “Okay, do you know what brand it is?”
Customer: “Taurus makes it, I think?”
Me: “All right… Taurus is a Ford; does that sound right?”
Customer: “Yeah, whatever.”
Me: *looking in book* “Do you know which engine it has?” *I list available engines*
Customer: “Jeez… I didn’t know there were so many!” *there were two, a four cylinder and a V-6* “What did most of them come with?”
Me: “I’m not sure; it could be either one. Do you have the vehicle with you so we could check?”
Customer: “Oh, no.” *waves in the air and gives me a look as if to say “How silly of a question!”* “It’s at home. It won’t start. Let me put it this way: if it was your car, which one do you think it would be?”
Me: “Um… I would still need to know which engine I had. If we get the wrong one the battery might not fit or won’t be adequate for the application.”
(At this point the customer switches tactics, from clueless to pissy.)
Customer: “Well, fine! It’s a four cylinder!”
Me: “Okay… here we are, it’s [part number]; I’ve got one right here.”
Customer: “Is that tag for $79 for THIS BATTERY?”
Me: “Yes, it’s actually one of our less expensive batteries.”
Customer: “YOU think that’s less expensive? In that case I’d like to have your income!”
Me: “…”
Customer: “Well, what about this one?” *motions to a six-volt golf cart battery that costs $59* “Why won’t this one work?”
(I end up going through the full explanation of why their car needs a twelve-volt automotive battery. Their facial expression indicates NONE of what I am saying is getting through and that I’m just a slimy salesman trying to talk him into a top of the line option.)
Customer: “Fine! What about this one here?” *motions to a motorcycle battery*
(Again I went through the process of explaining why that won’t work. Eventually I thought I gained ground getting them to believe that I was just trying to recommend what would work for his car and what won’t. They begrudgingly thanked me and I went on to help other customers. Fast forward two hours. I was working elsewhere in the store and heard a commotion up at the registers. I poked my head out of my aisle and recognized the battery customer from earlier. As I was walking up I began catching parts of the conversation, things like “Didn’t have any idea what he was doing” and “Got me the wrong battery” and “Expect to be compensated for driving all the way over from (neighboring town that is a half mile down the road).” When I reached the registers, I saw he ended up going with a boat battery, probably because it was $49.99. He was in the process of going off on our cashier about how I had intentionally screwed him over until he saw me approaching. The look on his face of being caught in a lie was priceless. He quickly dropped the attitude and asked sheepishly if we would take the battery he had bought in exchange for the correct one.)
(I’m standing at our service desk doing some paperwork when two customers approach me regarding a price check. I say “Sure!” and scan the item for them, then tell them the price.)
Customer: “Sir, you don’t have to be so sarcastic with me.”
Me: “…”
Customer: “You shouldn’t take that kind of tone with customers, especially not ones that spend as much as I do here.”
(For the record I’ve worked full-time here for seven years and have never seen her before.)
Me: “I don’t understand, ma’am. I merely scanned the item for you and told you the price; I don’t see how I was rude or disrespectful.”
Customer: “See? There it is again! You have such a snarky tone to what you’re saying!”
(Then it dawns on me…)
Me: “Ma’am, I apologize, but I have Asperger’s syndrome. It’s a neurological disorder and part of it affects my speech.”
Customer: “As-what?” *she smiles at me wide-eyed, then looks at her companion, who also smiles, like it’s all a big joke*
Me: “As-per-ger’s syndrome.”
(I am now getting uncomfortable, I normally try to hide my condition at all costs. People misunderstand and assume all kinds of things. I even once had a boss almost let me go because he thought it was the same as Alzheimer’s and assumed I would gradually lose my memory.)
Customer: *giving me a sceptical look* “Yeah… well, you should probably get that taken care of, because someone could really misunderstand and think you’re talking that way on purpose.”
Me: *getting angry that she would suggest it’s just as simple as taking a pill or getting a shot* “I wish it were that simple, ma’am, but there’s no cure for it. It’s something I’ll deal with my whole life. I’m sorry that it inconvenienced you.”
(With that they walk away. She’s barely five feet from me when I hear her tell her friend: Well, that’s what we get with equal opportunity employers!)
