Six Cents None The Richer

, , , , , | Right | April 17, 2019

(I work for a large gas station chain. I am ringing up an old man when I miss an item on the counter. I realize my mistake only after he has already paid, so I go to scan the item I missed. The item is $1.99 plus six cents of tax. He proceeds to freak out for the dumbest reason possible before trying to backtrack once he realizes he is an idiot.)

Me: “That will be $2.05 with the tax for that, then, sir.”

Customer: “Are you kidding me? I’m not paying that! You’re charging me even more tax?!”

Me: “Uh… what?”

Customer: “You messed up, and now I have to pay more tax? I don’t think so.”

Me: “Yeah, that’s not how taxes work. Sales tax is based on a percentage. If the two bucks were with the first order you would have paid exactly the same amount in taxes as you are now.”

Customer: “Oh.” *laughs* “Yeah, I knew that. I was just messin’ with you.”

(Sure you were, dude. Sure you were.)

 

Not Happy With This Tree-tment

, , , , , , , | Right | April 15, 2019

I do landscaping for a major chain restaurant and I notice that a tree has Borers and needs an injection. I tell the managing partner, who informs me she does not want to spend the $50. I tell her the tree will die, and she repeats that she does not want to spend any money. I tell her she can call any tree company, pick one out of the phone book, or ask friends, but the tree needs the injection or else.

She continues to say she does not want to spend any money. I give up; she is the customer and is therefore always right.

The following season, I am at the restaurant having dinner, and she sits down and asks why the tree is dead. I reminded her of last fall’s conversation, and she is pissed at me. She says she’s going to “rip the d*** thing out of the ground.”

I just keep my mouth shut and think of how she saved $50 at a cost of $700 to remove and replace the dead tree.

The True Cost Of The Apocalypse

, , , , , , | Learning | April 9, 2019

(I’m a substitute teacher. For some reason, students frequently ask me for money and/or to break larger bills for them. Today, I’m working in a middle school. It’s the last class of the day, and half the kids have left to go to a party for getting good grades. It’s already clear that no work is going to get done by the remaining students.)

Student #1: “Do you have a dollar?”

Me: *thinking: I don’t have any money with me right now, but I wouldn’t give any to a student even if I did* “No.”

Student #1: “You don’t have a dollar?”

Me: “No, I’m a substitute. Why would I have money?”

Student #2: “You’re an adult. Adults have money.”

Me: “Well, substitutes don’t.”

Student #1: “What if it was the apocalypse and you needed a dollar?”

Me: “If the apocalypse came, a dollar wouldn’t do anything for me.”

Student #2: “But what if you needed one?”

Me: “I mean, by that point, money wouldn’t mean anything anymore.”

Student #1: “What if you had to have a dollar or you’d die?”

Me: “Then I’d die!”

(The conversation ends there. When the kids who left for the party start to come back for dismissal at the end of the day, [Student #2] gets into a fight with one of them. Both of them are taken to the office, but I’m still pretty shaken by the time I get home. I tell my boyfriend about the fight as I unpack my lunchbox, having forgotten completely about the earlier conversation. Forgotten, that is, until I notice something in one of the lunchbox’s pockets.)

Me: “Oh, my God. I’m going to live!

Boyfriend: “Huh?”

Me: “Look! I have two dollars! I’m not going to die in the apocalypse!”

(One way or another, I felt a whole lot better after that!)

The (In The) Red Wedding

, , , , , | Friendly | April 8, 2019

(After Hurricane Katrina, my church sends a group of volunteers several times to a “sister parish” in Mississippi to help clean up and rebuild. During one such trip, I drive with a younger priest originally from Vietnam to the nearby home improvement store to buy some supplies we need and pick up some stuff ordered previously. We go up to the business desk where the clerk and priest greet each other, obviously knowing each other well. After the clerk rings up the purchases, the priest and clerk immediately begin serious dickering over the total. After much back and forth, eventually, they settle on about 10% off after the priest promises to officiate the weddings of both the clerk’s children for free. Just then, the priest remembers something we have forgotten and runs off to get it.)

Me: “You know, the church doesn’t actually charge for weddings.”

(Note: they do suggest a stipend.)

Clerk: “Oh, I know that. We would have given you guys the 10% off, anyway, but Father loves to dicker, so I let him have his fun!”

They Have A Fifty-Fifty Chance Of Succeeding

, , , , , , , | Working | April 8, 2019

(I’m the assistant manager at a pub, working the Christmas party night. We’ve got 150 people, drinks flowing, both a marquee and the main pub open, and a Rod Stewart tribute. Carnage. After a recent scam with £50 notes, we’ve been told by the bank that we can no longer accept them. I’m working the main pub making drinks for a man when I notice the note in his hand.)

Me: “Oh, sorry, love; we’re not allowed to accept £50 notes. Banks—“

Customer: *staring in complete disbelief* “What?”

Me: *internally, “maybe let me finish?”* “We don’t take £50s anymore, mate.”

Customer: “Well, I’ll just go back down and speak to [Owner].”

(I’ve had enough; we’re heaving and I’m already sick of dealing with pretentious assholes when this customer decides to stare into space and ignore everything coming out of my mouth.)

Me: “[Owner] will just tell you the same thing… Sir? Sir, do not ignore me… Sir. We have been told by the bank after a recent slew of scams not to accept £50s… aaaaand you’re walking away.”

(My colleague catches my eye, as do a number of regulars after my outburst — I’m known for being the welcome party and having a smile ready for everyone — as the customer proceeds to bump into the other manager, a person notorious for bending the rules, and inform him that I’m “refusing to serve” him. I don’t hold my breath; I know what’s coming after many years of customer service and on Not Always…)

Other Manager: *accepting the £50 note* “Well, we can’t accept these; if we put this in the till it’s breaking the rules.”

Customer: *smiling happily as he gets his own way* “That’s what she said, but it’s a good note.”

Other Manager: *aka the one who got scammed by the fake £50 which wouldn’t have fooled a toddler* “I can see that. Here you go.”

(I watched in calm fury as the £50 was exchanged — not from the till, but the safe where the money from tonight’s tickets was being kept — before returning to making drinks. In total, the bill came to less than £10 and I bit my tongue. It’s common for customers to buy staff drinks, and I’ll admit I took no convincing in accepting multiple drinks tonight. Proof that even managers get screwed over by management.)

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