A Nightmare In The Sheets

, , , , | | Right | May 8, 2019

(I work at a big store that sells merchandise for your bedroom, bathroom, and everything in between. I am a friendly, sweet person and usually happy to help any customer find what they are looking for. One day, on my way to clock out, I get a call on my walkie that someone needs help in the sheets department. Since every other employee is either at the register or with other customers, I decide to walk back and help out one last person for the day. It is an older woman in her eighties and her two young granddaughters in their early twenties. The girls already have looks on their faces that let me know this may not be an easy customer experience.)

Me: “Hi there. What can I help you find today?”

Customer: “I need some 100% Egyptian cotton sheets, and I don’t see them anywhere around here. It doesn’t say anywhere what kinds of sheets these all are. You need to find me some Egyptian cotton sheets.”

(Please note that in front of every different sheet display, there are eye-level signs stating the brand, sheet type, size, price, and quality. I confidently walk her over to a full wall display. I realize two of my next words are a mistake.)

Me: “Yes, right over here. I believe these [Popular Store-Featured Affordable Brand] sheets are 100% Egyptian cotton. Let’s take a look—“

Customer: “Well, are they or aren’t they? If you don’t know, then I don’t want you helping me. This is ridiculous. You need to get someone who actually knows what they’re talking about to help me.”

Me: *taken aback by her vitriolic tone, noticing her granddaughters looking further embarrassed* “Um, certainly. However, these are our best-selling Egyptian cotton sheets in the store right here. But I can call someone else for you if you like.”

Customer: “Yes, call someone who knows what they’re talking about. God, I can’t believe this… I just want some Egyptian cotton sheets, and nobody knows anything! This is ridiculous. Just ridiculous…”

(I walkie for a coworker to relieve me in the sheets section, and luckily they take over so I can clock out. The next day, I see my same coworker and apologize for leaving her with that nasty lady in sheets.)

Me: “I don’t know what her problem was. I was just trying to help her, and I showed her exactly what she was looking for, and she just had a horrible attitude. I’m not sure why.”

Coworker: “Oh, are you the ‘stupid girl’?”

Me: “Wait, what?”

Coworker: “I rang her up yesterday, too, and she said, ‘This stupid girl had to call someone else to help me because she didn’t know where anything was.'”

Me: “Wow…”

Catching This Criminal Is A Piece Of Cake

, , , , , , | Legal | November 2, 2018

This happened years ago, when my father was a child. My grandfather told me the story.

One day, after a family outing, my grandparents and their children arrived home to discover that someone had broken into their house and stolen various items. A local teenager was soon identified as the likely culprit after his father turned him in to the police. The father had noticed that his son was suddenly in possession of several items that didn’t seem to belong to him, and the police quickly realized that these items matched the description of some of the things stolen from my grandparents’ home. As such, my grandparents were asked to testify against him in court. At this point the young man had not yet formally confessed, but it was expected that he would be found guilty based on his possession of the stolen items.

During the court proceedings, the judge asked my grandparents to describe the items that had been stolen. They listed off several items, including one particular item that was missing from the refrigerator: an expensive cake from a famous bakery. However, upon hearing my grandmother mention a chocolate cake, the young burglar loudly objected, “The cake wasn’t chocolate! It was strawberry!”

He was found guilty.

Fax Of Life

, , , , , , | Healthy | August 16, 2018

When I was a kid, my family had a separate phone line for our fax machine. One day, we received a fax containing a prescription for medication for my mom’s uncle who lived a few towns away.

We were quite bewildered, as we didn’t think mom’s uncle had our fax number, nor did he have any apparent reason for sending this particular document to us. We eventually found out that our fax number was only one digit off from that of a local pharmacy, and the fax had come from a doctor’s office. Apparently someone at the office was trying to send the prescription to the pharmacy but misdialed.

It was a complete coincidence that the prescription just happened to be for someone we knew.

Sounds Like Their Brain Is Oxygen Starved

, , , , , | Right | July 11, 2018

(I am the manager of a 144-unit apartment complex. One of my long-term — ten years plus — residents, confides in me that his elderly uncle, whom he lives with, hid from him that he has bedbugs in his room. Very soon thereafter, I have my professional exterminator go into his apartment to do a thorough inspection. Yes, indeed, he has bed bugs. The exterminator and I then call the resident to report the findings and to discuss the treatment plan. The exterminator is telling the resident how to prepare for treatment, and he asks the resident:)

Exterminator: “Does anyone living in your home have any respiratory problems?”

Resident: “No, but my mother can’t go anywhere without her oxygen tank.”

Exterminator: “She will have to be out of your home at least overnight, and not just the normal four hours.”

(Later on that same day, the resident comes into my office to pick up the “preparation list” of what to do. As he’s reading it over, he says to me:)

Resident: “About my mother, it says we only have to be gone for four hours?”

(I stare at him for a puzzled moment, and then I remind him that the exterminator asked him is anyone in his family had respiratory problems. He looks frustrated and repeats to me:)

Resident: “No, she just can’t go anywhere without her oxygen tank!”

(I stayed calm, did not laugh, and told this 47-year-old man, father of two, that the reason his mother has an oxygen tank in the first place is because of respiratory problems.)

This Caller Could Not Be Roached

, , , , , | Right | April 6, 2018

I manage a large apartment complex. One Friday a resident calls and informs me that he has seen a couple of cockroaches in his home, in his kitchen. I inform him that our professional exterminator will be there this coming Wednesday, and he will go in and treat the apartment to get rid of any bugs, including roaches.

I arrive to work on the following Monday, before his apartment is to be exterminated. The same resident has left me a voicemail on my answering machine. He says that he made a pecan pie for the staff and myself, but he had to go to work before our office opened, and would I please go to his home to get it. He said he left it sitting out on the kitchen counter.

I think I’m going to tell him that I never got his message.

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