Unfiltered Story #109187

, , | Unfiltered | April 22, 2018

(I’m working the closing shift at a frozen yogurt shop. At around 7 pm, the phone rings, and I answer with my usual greeting.)

Me: “Good evening, [Shop Name] [Location], this is [My Name] speaking, how can I help you?”

(The caller sounds like an adolescent or young adult woman.)

Woman: *loudly* “Is this [Shop Name]?”

Me: “Yes, this is [Shop Name] [Location].”

Woman: “Is it healthy there?”

(While people like to consider frozen yogurt and sorbet a healthiER alternative to ice cream, I would hesitate to call our products “healthy”.)

Me: “…Healthy in what regard?”

Woman: “Like, healthier than CC Swirls?”

(CC Swirls is another Canadian frozen yogurt shop, but up to that point I’d never heard of it.)

Me: “Than…what, sorry?”

Woman: “CC Swirls.”

Me: “I’m afraid I don’t know what that is, so I can’t offer a comparison.”

Woman: “How dare you.”

(I assume she’s joking, and laugh. I’m starting to suspect this is a prank call, but since she isn’t doing any harm and I have nothing better to do, I stay on the line.)

Woman: “I guess it’s probably a bit better.”

Me: “Well, you’re always welcome to come in and check everything out, if you’d like.”

Woman: “Is this Oakville?”

Me: “Yes, we are located in Oakville, at the intersection of [Street Name] and [Street Name].”

Woman: “Good for you.”

Me: “…Thanks?”

Woman: “So are you hiring?”

(We have literally just hired a new employee, and are probably not looking to hire more just yet.)

Me: “I think we may have just hired someone, but we are always happy to take resumes.”

Woman: “Okay. How old do you have to be to work there?”

Me: “I’m not sure how old you have to be to actually work here, but to be given a key for opening or closing you have to be 16 years old.”

Woman: “Okay. I’m 21 –”

(I wonder to myself if she honestly thinks there’s any normal job, let alone a job selling frozen yogurt, whose minimum age requirement is that high.)

Woman: “– and I used to work at –”

(The call suddenly cuts out. Since I’ve known this phone to give us trouble, I don’t know if it was a problem on either of our ends, or if she hung up.)

Me: “Hello? Are you there? …I’m sorry; if you’re there, I’m afraid I can’t hear you, and you’ll have to call back.”

(There is the sound of the call being dropped, and then a dial tone. There were no more calls the rest of the night. I don’t know if it was a prank call or if that woman was just very strange, but it was certainly amusing!)

Last Year, Year Last

, , , | Right | April 18, 2018

Customer: “I have an extended warranty for my shredder here.”

Me: “Okay.” *I look at receipt* “Um, this is from 2006.”

Customer: “No, it’s from 2009.”

Me: “Nope, this is from 2006. See the date here, how it says, ‘09/01/06’? That means it was purchased on September 1, 2006.”

Customer: “No, the ‘09’ is the year. The year is listed first.”

Me: “No, the year is last.” *I grab a recently-printed receipt to show her* “See?”

Customer: “Then it must have changed.”

Me: “It didn’t change. But, either way, even if this was from 2009, it’s still too long ago; the extended warranty is only good for an extra year.”

Customer: “No! This shredder is warrantied for five years, so this gives me six years total! So, even if it was purchased in 2006, you can still use it! It’s good for six years!”

Me: “2006 was nine years ago. It’s 2015.”

Customer: “It doesn’t matter! It’s from 2009!”

Me: “Well, I’m sorry, but it’s not. It’s from 2006. I haven’t even actually seen these warranty pamphlets, and I’ve been working here for seven years.”

Customer: “Well, that’s weird, because it’s from 2009!”

Me: “I don’t know what else to tell you… because it’s from 2006.”

Customer: “I don’t know what else to tell you, either, because it’s from 2009! The year is listed first!”

Nearby Associate: “No, the year is always last. I’ve actually never seen the year listed first. Anywhere.”

That Is The Other Question

, , , , , | Related | April 18, 2018

(My six-year-old son is flipping through the channels when something catches his attention. It appears to be a French production of the play Hamlet, which my son is familiar with.)

Son: “This is weird.”

Me: “Remember when we watched that play last month?”

Son: “Yeah!”

Me: “I thought you liked it.”

Son: “I do, but this is weird. They don’t speak French in Denmark.”

Me: “It’s in French, because this is a French channel. Do you know what language people actually speak in Denmark?”

Son: “Yeah, they speak English.”

(I would have thought nothing of this had it not been for the fact that we are Danish. Granted, he did speak to several Danish relatives on the phone in English, but still…)

GPS: Great Practitioners Of Stupidity, Part 5

, , , , , | Working | April 17, 2018

(It’s my first year at university and I am still getting used to the new buses I have to take. The bus app is malfunctioning, so I have to remember my bus times from memory. I get on one bus and ask the driver a question.)

Me: “Does this bus go to [Intersection]?”

Bus Driver: “I only follow the GPS.”

Me: “I know, but it should be a stop. I just want to make sure I’m on the right bus.”

Bus Driver: “I just follow the GPS. I don’t know.”

Me: “Really?”

Bus Driver: “I just follow the GPS.”

(Since I was 90% sure I was on the right bus, I stayed on, and I was right, but what bus driver doesn’t know intersections?)

Related:
GPS: Great Practitioners Of Stupidity, Part 4
GPS: Great Practitioners Of Stupidity, Part 3
GPS: Great Practitioners Of Stupidity, Part 2

An Uncomfortable Level Of Lunch

, , , , , , | Working | April 15, 2018

I was promoted about a year ago to be general manager for all of our branches in the city. One of my duties is to chair a supervisors’ meeting twice a year. These are usually long and tedious affairs, so to make them bearable, I have all the supervisors over to my house and feed them lunch before having the meeting. This way, everybody gets a good meal, and the meeting can be done on comfortable couches, instead of hard boardroom chairs.

Most of my supervisors are great, or at least good at their jobs, but one of them I have constantly had to speak with about her lousy customer service and basic lack of people skills.

A few weeks after I have had to have another talk with my shoddy supervisor, I receive an email from the union. The email says that they have received an “anonymous” complaint from a member that the supervisors’ meetings are held at my house. They can’t give any reasons for the complaint beyond that it makes the complainant uncomfortable.

So, from now on, all supervisors’ meetings will be held in the windowless boardroom, on hard chairs, and with no food. All in the name of making one supervisor “comfortable.”

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