Those Who Fling Won’t Go Far

, , , , , , , | Right | July 16, 2019

(It is the mid-1990s, and I’m working at a fast food restaurant with an order-by-number value menu. Towards the tail end of an unusually busy lunch rush, a woman comes into the lobby. She waits very impatiently in line for the two people in front of her, and when she finally gets to the front of the line, she says:)

Customer: “Two. Coke. Hurry.”

(I press the buttons on the touchscreen till to order her a #2 meal with a Coke, but before I have a chance to say anything to her, she pulls a credit card out of her purse and flings it at me. The card misses me, flies past me, and lands in the tray of the shake dispenser, slipping into the thin metal grate and down into the mess of milky, sugary muck below. I stare at it for a moment before slowly turning back to the customer.)

Me: “That’ll be $3.21. Would you like that for here or to go?”

(I notice that she’s still staring at the spot where her card disappeared.)

Me: “Ma’am? For here or to go?”

Customer: *still staring*

Me: *a bit louder* “Ma’am!”

Customer: *finally looks back at me* “Um… to go.”

(I push the To-Go button, which finishes sending the order back to the kitchen.)

Me: “That’ll be $3.21.”

(She reaches into her purse, pulls out a $5 bill, and very carefully sets it on the counter in front of me. I hand her the $1.79 in change along with the cup for her drink. Since there are no customers waiting, I step away from the till to get ready to assemble her order. When I hand her the bag a minute or so later, she is still staring at the shake machine’s drip tray.)

Me: *handing her the bag* “Have a nice day.”

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Not Too Chicken To Call Them Out On Their Chicken

, , , , , , , | Working | June 21, 2019

(I decide to try out a new restaurant that just opened a few days ago a couple of blocks from my apartment. After taking a look at their menu, I order a buffalo chicken sandwich. Despite the place not being at all busy, it takes about fifteen minutes for my food to be delivered to my table. When I cut my sandwich in half, I discover that the chicken breast is still raw in the middle. I flag down the server and show her the sandwich, and she takes the plate back into the kitchen to be remade. This time, it takes about 20 minutes for me to get my food, and it is delivered by the manager, who apologizes for the inconvenience. After he leaves the table, I cut open the sandwich and it is even rawer than the first one they made. I pull out my phone and snap a picture of the sandwich. The manager notices what I am doing and comes over.)

Manager: “Is there something wrong?”

Me: “Take a look for yourself.” *turns the plate so he can see the raw chicken*

Manager: “Oh, I’m so sorry. Let me get that fixed for you right away.”

Me: “No, thanks. At this point, I’m not going to eat anything that comes out of this kitchen. I’ll get my lunch elsewhere.”

Manager: “Okay, I’ll be right back with your bill.”

Me: “My bill?”

Manager: “Yes, it’ll just be a moment.”

Me: *standing up to leave* “I’m not paying you for raw chicken.”

Manager: *as I’m leaving* “Then I’ll have to call the police.”

Me: “Go ahead and do that if you feel you need to. I’ll be over at [Old Restaurant].”

(About half an hour later, I was just finishing my lunch at the second restaurant when a police officer came in and asked if I’d been at [New Restaurant] that morning. I told her that I had, explained what had happened, and showed her the picture I’d taken of the raw sandwich. I gave her my name, address, and phone number for her report and she left. A couple of weeks later, I was walking past [New Restaurant] and I saw a sign on the front door: “Closed by order of City Health Inspector.” They never reopened.)

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The Zoe Dynasty

, , , , , | Working | June 4, 2019

(I pull up to order at a well-known fast food chain and the server first asks me for a name for my order. I reply that it’s Zoe. I complete my order and pull up to the window.)

Server #1: “Hey, how do you spell your name?”

Me: “Z-O-E.”

Server #2: “I told you I was right. I’m Asian.”

Server #1: “Oh, man.”

Server #2: “I won my middle school spelling bee.”

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Unfiltered Story #151746

, , , | Unfiltered | May 23, 2019

(I received a request for a laptop to be sent out to a new hire who was starting on July 6th – we had no laptops in stock at the time because our orders weren’t arriving on time, thanks to the company we purchase our laptops from. This woman put in the order on 7/3, a day no one at HQ works, and proceeded to call me on Monday)

Her: Hello, yes, is this IST?
(Note we’re actually called ITS)
Me: Yes, this is ITS.
Her: I ordered a laptop for [new hire] and it still hasn’t arrived, even though I asked for it to be overnighted AM!
Me: Can you give me the request item or task number for the order?
Her: (rattles off the RIT number) so…where is it?
Me: Ma’am… you ordered this laptop on the third, and he starts today.
Her: Yes? So?
Me: Ma’am, on the order page in red, bold print there is a message stating that all laptops would be on back order for at least a week, because our orders aren’t coming in on time from the supplier.
Her: Yes…but I figured you could make an exception!
Me: It also states that we ask you give us at least 15 days for a new hire laptop or desktop.
Her: Yes, but this was important! You have to ship this laptop out now so it can get here this evening!
Me: Ma’am, UPS doesn’t pick up shipments until 4:00 PM CST, and it won’t get there until at least tomorrow. We have no “same-day” shipping options.
Her: Well…that’s absurd, I’m calling HR about this!
Me: …Alright?
Her: (hangs up, never calls back again, and cancels the order for the new hire’s laptop)

Parking And Wreck-reation

, , , , , , | Right | April 24, 2019

(I work security at a condo building. The building has several levels of parking for the residents who live there. One parking level also includes a section of guest parking. One night, a group of men and women in their late 20s or early 30s stops by the front desk.)

Guests: “Where is guest parking?”

(I point them in the direction of guest parking and continue monitoring the front desk. About a minute later, this group returns to the front desk.)

Guests: “Where is the real guest parking?”

Me: “I already showed it to you.”

Guests: “You’re lying! We parked our car in guest parking and it’s not there! Where is the real guest parking?”

(I know there is only one section of guest parking, so I know these people are confused. I decide to take a different approach.)

Me: “Who are you guys visiting?”

Guests: “[Person] in [unit].”

(I look for their host’s assigned parking spot and realize that is visible on one of the cameras in the parking ramps. I review that camera and vividly see these guests and their host getting out of a minivan several hours earlier. This is allowed in the building. Now I know that their vehicle is parked in a ramp that is different than guest parking.)

Me: “I know where your car is parked; please follow me.”

(The guests follow me to the correct parking level, and as soon as we walk from the elevator lobby into the ramp:)

Guests: “This is not where our car is parked!”

(We are at least 100 feet from the vehicle, so I tell them to just keep following me. As soon as we get to the minivan, the men respond.)

Guests: “May you have seven [women] tonight.”

(I did not respond, but I made sure they left the parking garage safely.)

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