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A Cotton-De-What-Now?

, , , | Right | September 28, 2020

I am a volunteer at an international dog show. I’m working on the door checking papers for the competing dogs and selling tickets. There are several hundred dogs signed up from every breed there is.

Attendee: “We’ve come to see our friend show his dog. Can you tell us which ring he’s in?”

Me: “No problem. What kind of dog does he have?”

I have a programme so I can find out what ring from the breed.

Attendee: “It’s at eleven.”

Me: “There are several different breeds showing at eleven. What dog does he have?”

There are eight rings with at least two breeds scheduled at eleven in each.

Attendee: “It’s Dixie.”

Me: “I’m not familiar with that breed. Let me look it up.”

She is getting even more impatient as it’s minutes until eleven.

Attendee: “It’s at eleven and it’s Dixie.”

Me: “I can’t find a Dixie.”

Attendee: “The dog is called Dixie.”

Me: “Well, I need to know its breed to find out where it is.”

She looks at me like I’m crazy.

Attendee: “It’s Dixie. She’s a Cottondetully thingy.”

I look through the book and find Coton de Tulear.

Me: “Okay, ring seven.”

Attendee: “Finally!”

The New iNfect

, , , , , | Right | September 18, 2020

In an effort to avoid the spread of anything contagious, my cell phone store doesn’t allow customers to touch any of the phones we have on display. This is printed on numerous signs around the phones, and the screensaver on each phone even has, “Please don’t touch,” running on each and every one of them. Even still, people grab the phones to try them or play with them all day long. We’ve had to tell adults to please stop touching them.

A woman picks up a display model.

Coworker: “Ma’am, please don’t touch the phones. We’re trying to avoid the spread of disease.”

Customer: “Oh, of course. I won’t.”

She put the phone down, and literally four seconds later, she picked up the next one. This is why we have to clean everything with disinfectant all day long.

You Just Can’t Count On Some People

, , , , , | Working | September 15, 2020

I’ve just returned home after three years of college, and I go back to the youth club I used to volunteer with. Things have changed a lot since I was here last, and since I used to be in charge of kitchen/sales, it’s only natural for me to step into that my first night back. Because we meet on Fridays, we sell, among other things, a large variety of candy.

It’s the end of the night and we’re packing up. I’m looking over the price list when the guy in charge of procurement — an old classmate and friend of mine — comes in. The real prices are in Norwegian Kroner, so the prices stated are just a rough estimate.

Friend: “You look puzzled, [My Name].”

Me: “What? Oh, no, I was just checking the price list.”

Friend: “Yeah, some of the prices are a little weird, I know.”

Me: “Yeah, why are we selling [candy bar #1] for $1.33? And [candy bar #2] for $1.56? Wouldn’t it be easier to keep it an even number? I mean, you’ve always complained about being left with so much small change at the end of the day.”

Friend: “I know, but I thought we should keep the prices close to the local stores’. I actually got the [candy bar #1]s on sale, two for a dollar.”

Me: “So, why not sell them for a dollar, then? And [candy bar #2] sells for over two dollars in some stores, so you could sell those for $1.90 or something to make up for the difference.”

Friend: “What?”

He seems really confused at this point, and I find myself actually talking slower.

Me: *Sighs* “If you paid one dollar for two bars, you essentially bought one bar for fifty cents, right? So, if you sell one bar for a dollar, you’ve made fifty cents. I can see why you’d want to try and price-match with the stores, and you could potentially make a few extra bucks a week, but if you’re offering the kids the same deal as the stores, what’s stopping them from buying in there instead of here?”

He didn’t have a good answer for that and seemed genuinely confused about the whole thing. He’s twenty-four and works at a grocery store, yet simple math still escapes him. He even suggested I use a calculator during sales, because counting is apparently difficult.

Boy, What A Charmer!

, , , , | Right | August 30, 2020

I work at a rather small dry cleaning place. A man comes in to pick up a suit with his young son. Usually, our customers’ children are too shy to talk to us.

Son: “Do you know how old I am?”

Me: *Taken aback* “No! How old are you?”

Son: “I’m four and a half years old.”

Me: “Wow. I’m twenty-one. I’m old!”

Son: *Thinking hard* “Yes.

I continue the transaction with the customer. 

Son: *To his father* “Dad, can I press the green button?”

Customer: “Of course you can!”

The customer puts in his card into the machine, and I go to type in the price, pressing the green button when I do.

Son: “But I wanted to press the green button!”

Me: “Oh, I am so sorry. You can do it now.”

He presses the green button, and two receipts come out, one for the customer and one for me. 

Me: *To the customer* “Would you like your receipt?”

Customer: “Yes, please!”

Son: “Daddy, can I have that piece of paper?”

Customer: “No, sorry, Daddy needs this one.”

Son: *To me* “Can I have that piece of paper?”

Me: “I’m sorry, but I need this one. But I can print out another one for you.”

Son: “Yes, please!”

I print out another receipt for the little boy. This one is wider and longer than the one I gave his father. 

Me: “You’re getting a big one!”

I hand him the receipt. 

Son: “Ooooh! That is big!”

The customer thanks me and says goodbye as he leaves. They turn the corner when I hear:

Son: “Bye-bye!”

Me: “Bye!”

The boy comes running into the store again.

Son: “Bye! I’ll—” *starts thinking* “—see you tomorrow?”

Me: “No, you won’t, sweetie.”

Son: “No… I’ll see you some other day, then!”

Me: “Yes, you will! Definitely!”

Son: “See you then! Bye!”

After he left, I couldn’t stop smiling for the rest of the day. That little boy made my entire week!

Can’t Hear You Over The Sound Of Your Ovaries, Part 6

, , , | Right | August 17, 2020

I’m a female tire fitter, which is a profession highly dominated by male workers. I get a lot of comments about being a female, mostly good, but then you have the a**holes. The receptionist tells me to open up the garage for a customer; I start to guide the elderly gentleman in. When he stops the car, I open the door for him. 

Me: “Hello, sir, will you please put the gear in neutral and the emergency brake off for me?”


Me: “…”

Customer: “You don’t even know what you are doing! Don’t touch my car!”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, I don’t understand. Are you not here for new tires?”

Customer: “Yes, but you don’t touch it! Why the f*** are you here?! Women have no business being in a garage! Their brains are the same size as a chicken’s brain!”

Me: “…”

I don’t know what to do with myself; I have never experienced anything like this before. The only people here are me and a male rookie, and it’s his first day in the garage. The customer points at my trainee.

Customer: “He is going to change my tires!”

Me: “Sir, this is his second day; he has never changed tires on his own before.”

Customer: “I want him! You will not touch anything!”

The customer had already paid for his new tires, and this was the first time I had encountered anything like this. Not knowing what else to do, I guided my terrified rookie in how to do everything, under the scrutinizing stare of the customer who yelled every time it looks like I was about to touch anything. 

Later, when the boss came back to work, we told him what happened. He got so angry, he told me that if he had been there he would have kicked that guy out so quickly his head would have spun around! 

Thankfully, I’ve never encountered anyone as bad as him again, but I do have more stories, for sure!

Can’t Hear You Over The Sound Of Your Ovaries, Part 5
Can’t Hear You Over The Sound Of Your Ovaries, Part 4
Can’t Hear You Over The Sound Of Your Ovaries, Part 3
Can’t Hear You Over The Sound Of Your Ovaries, Part 2
Can’t Hear You Over The Sound Of Your Ovaries