Gluten Out Of Ten For Ignorance

, , , , , , , | Working | November 17, 2017

(My local store sells a select few items that are gluten-free, which is a wonderful find for us. It’s very limited but we love the selection: frozen pizzas, breakfast sandwiches, chicken fingers, etc. I am shopping with family and I grab a whole bunch of breakfast sandwiches. I’m not really paying attention to the date on them.)

Sister’s Wife: “Those expired last April.”

Me: “What?!”

(I look and, sure enough, the expiration date is April of 2016.)

Me: “That can’t be right; maybe that is the manufacture date?”

(But nope, it is the expiration date. We calmly bring them to the register and tell the cashier they are expired, and here is where the fun begins.)

Cashier: “No, they expire this coming April.”

Me: “Uh, no, we are in 2017, not 2016.”

(She continues to assert that they don’t expire for another few months. Finally, I politely ask:)

Me: “Can you page a supervisor?”

(The manager comes and I explain the situation.)

Manager: “Oh, no… gluten-free just means the product doesn’t expire.”

(We gave up after that and literally laughed the entire way home.)

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Vets Need To Vet Their Pharmacists

, , , | Healthy | November 17, 2017

(I take my sick dog to the vet and they don’t have the medicine he needs, so they send me to a store to pick it up from their pharmacy.)

Me: “Hi, I’m here to pick up medicine for my dog.”

Rep: “What’s the name?”

Me: “Well, my name is [My Name], but my dog is named Austin.”

Rep: “The medicine is for Austin? What’s Austin’s date of birth?”

Me: “I honestly don’t know what they would have for that; he is a rescue.”

Rep: “Do you have a phone number for Austin?”

Me: “My number is [number].”

Rep: “I don’t need your number. I need the patient’s number.”

Me: “He’s a golden retriever. He doesn’t have a number.”

Rep: “Look, I need information or I can’t give you anything. I can’t even find the prescription.”

Me: “It was called in by [Vet Hospital, with ‘Veterinary’ in the name].”

(The rep yells to the people behind him:)

Rep: “Did we get a call from a [Vet Hospital, but without the word ‘Veterinary’]?”

(I try to correct him, but he brushes me off and the other employees tell him no.)

Rep: “Look, try talking to someone at the drop off window. Right now, you can’t prove you even have a prescription.”

Me: “I don’t have a prescription, but my dog, Austin, does from his veterinarian.”

(The rep glares at me and points to the drop off window. I go over.)

Me: “Hi, I’m here to pick up medicine for my dog, Austin, that my veterinarian called in.”

Drop-Off Pharmacist: “I have that here. What’s your phone number so I can verify?” *I provide it* “Okay, our customer service rep at the main register will check you out.”

(I get back in the first line with the same rep.)

Rep: “What’s this? They found it? Well, I still need you to verify Austin’s information, or call him to get it.”

Me: “Again, Austin is a dog. See? The medicine is listed for veterinary; there’s even a picture of a dog on the package.”

Rep: “Okay, you need to talk to the pharmacist.”

(He puts the medicine on the back counter. I wait five minutes and the pharmacist comes out.)

Pharmacist: “What questions do you have?”

Me: “None, actually. The vet said just to give him a pill twice a day.”

Pharmacist: “Okay. [Rep], why did you call me up?”

Rep: “Is it even legal to give this to her? She doesn’t have the patient’s information.”

Pharmacist: “The patient is a dog. It’s fine.”

Rep: “A dog? Who needs medicine for a dog? Whatever, here.”

(He hands me the bag with the medication.)

Me: “I haven’t paid.”

Rep: “Yeah, you did; I rang you out.”

Me: “No.”

Pharmacist: “This wasn’t paid for. Let me personally ring you out over here. I’m going to write down my information and the name of the other employee who helped you. If you have any questions, comments, or complaints, please send them to this email address. Please send them. We need to have a certain number of complaints before we can let an employee go.”

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Bouncing Somewhere Else

, , , , | Working | November 16, 2017

(I’m on holiday in New York and have gone to a nightclub for a few drinks with some friends. I’m from the UK. The club we choose has a sign specifically stating that foreign forms of ID are accepted.)

Bouncer #1: “ID.”

(I hand it over.)

Bouncer #1: “This is fake.”

Me: “How?”

Bouncer #1: “The UK doesn’t have driver’s licenses.”

Me: “I’m pretty sure they do.”

(Another bouncer comes over and takes my ID and moves it underneath the light overhead.)

Bouncer #2: “Looks genuine enough. She can come in.”

Bouncer #1: “No, she can’t.”

Bouncer #2: *sighs* “Why not?”

Bouncer #1: “We don’t let foreigners in.”

Bouncer #2: “Well, that sign says otherwise.” *to me* “Sorry about this; he’s new.”

Bouncer #1: *looking at my ID again* “She’s under 21.”

Bouncer #2: “December, 1989. She’s 26!”

([Bouncer #1] blushed and handed my ID back, then let me in. When the club was full he stood at the doors and glared at me the entire time. While I can’t help but commend [Bouncer #2] for his professionalism and experience, [Bouncer #1] ruined our night. We found another club and went there for the rest of our holiday.)

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Illustrating The Need For Quiet, Mathematically

, , , , , , | Learning | November 16, 2017

(I’m in the common area of my dorm, attempting to get some homework done, as there isn’t enough space in my dorm room for this project. A pair of other students apparently have the same idea. Unfortunately, they are working on what appears to be accounting homework, and bickering over a problem, LOUDLY. I’m trying to concentrate on my own work, but they just keep going back and forth, and it’s distracting, as their volume only rises.)

Me: *finally fed up* “Oh, my God. Just… give me the problem you’re working on!”

Student #1: *snootily, after glancing at the large self-portrait I’m working on* “Um, you won’t understand the terms.”

Me: *ignoring the fact that they’ve been bickering so long I already do* “It’s just f****** math. I don’t need the terms; just give me the numbers.”

Student #2: “Um… it’s [figure #1] and [figure #2].”

Me: “Are you f****** kidding me? It’s . It’s frigging basic division! Now, can I please get back to work in peace?!”

(They both glare at me and flip to the back of their book, then immediately look sheepish.)

Student #1: “It… it is .”

Student #2: *glancing at my homework* “So… Is that an elective, or…?”

Me: “No. I’m an illustration major.”

Student #2: *weakly* “Well, I guess you could always switch to accounting if you wanted.”

(Thankfully, after that, they were much quieter.)

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“It” Wasn’t Funny The First Time

, , , , , | Right | November 13, 2017

(“It” has been playing for the past week. One day, I get a call at the box office.)

Me: “Hi, thanks for calling [Theater]. How can I help you?”

Caller: *giggling* “Yeah, um… Do you have ‘It’?”

Me: “Yes, we do. Our next show-times are at noon, 3:00 pm, and 7:30 pm.”

Caller: *pause; annoyed* “You were supposed to ask me what ‘It’ was! It was a joke! I wanted to confuse you!”

Me: “Oh, I know. It’s just that we’ve gotten that exact same prank call about ten times a day for the past week and I’m trying not to waste time on them.”

Caller: *click*

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