A Slave To The Form

, , , | Working | March 17, 2016

(I order a free credit report from one of several companies in Canada. When I receive the report, it is very obvious that they have mixed my report with another person’s, so I call them to inquire. Understandably, they have to ask several security questions to ascertain my identity.)

Company Rep: “Can I have your age?”

Me: “I’m 55.”

Company Rep: “That’s not correct.”

Me: “I’m 55. How can it not be correct?”

Company Rep: “The forms say you must be between 66 and 72.”

Me: “I cannot be between those ages; I know for certain that I am 55.”

Company Rep: “I’m sorry, but that’s what the forms say.”

Me: “Do the forms not have my date of birth?”

Company Rep: “Yes, they do.”

Me: “And I was born in 1956, correct?”

Company Rep: “That’s correct.”

Me: “And it’s now 2011. 2011 – 1956 = 55, would you not agree?”

Company Rep: “Yes, but the paperwork says you have to be between 66 and 72.”

Me: “So you can’t figure out for yourself that the paperwork that your company has generated has made a mistake. Not only do you have my credit report mixed up with someone else’s, but you can’t do a simple bit of math and see that your answer is wrong?”

Company Rep: “I’m sorry. sir, but your age has to be between 66 and 72?”

Me: “Oh, for Christ’s sake!” *hangs up*

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Has Some Holiday Daddy Issues

, , , | Right | July 9, 2015

(The store I work at has multiple signs advertising for Father’s Day promotions, which is next week.)

Customer: “Is tomorrow Father’s Day? I don’t want to miss it.”

Me: “No, I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure it’s next week, but I’m not 100% sure.”

Customer: “You don’t know?”

Me: “No, I’m sorry, but I can check for you if you’d like?”

Customer: *very snidely* “How can you not know? What, don’t you have a father?”

Me: “No. Actually, I don’t.”

(He blushed, apologized, and left quickly.)

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Not His Best Light-Bulb Moment

, , , , | Working | April 13, 2015

(A delivery driver arrives at our fairly small office, and I’m the one who was free to go to help bring in the shipment.)

Delivery Driver: “So what’s in all these boxes anyway?”

(As he asks, he grabs the first box and SLAMS it down on the tailgate of the truck.)

Me: “…that would be light bulbs.”

Delivery Driver: “…oh.”

(Luckily for both of us, we deal with LED lights – which are made of plastic, not glass!)

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Good Customer Service Is Saving The Girl

, , , , , , | Right | June 18, 2014

(I am working the cash register at a fast food restaurant when a girl no older than 15 comes up to order.)

Girl #1: “I’ll have a number three with a [Soda], please.”

Me: “Sure. Will that be everything?”

Girl #1: “Umm… no, actually. I think I was followed here. If you see some girls come in and bother me, can you ask them to leave?”

Me: “I’ll see what I can do.”

(The girl takes her food over to the only table where she can be easily seen by all of the front counter staff, and she takes out some homework. Less than five minutes later, three girls come in, go straight to [Girl #1]’s table, and start talking to her. In the 30 seconds it takes to ask my manager for permission to kick the group out, [Girl #1] has started crying.)

Me: *to the group* “You guys are harassing this girl. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Girl #2: “It’s okay. We know her.”

Me: “No, it’s not okay. You can’t be harassing paying customers.”

Girl #2: “We can buy something. We’ll be paying customers, too.”

Me: “Too late. I won’t just stand back and watch while you harass this girl. If you don’t leave right now, security will be called and you’ll be banned from the property.”

(As our restaurant was located in a mall parking lot, being banned from the property also meant being banned from the mall, so they left pretty quickly with no more argument. Since [Girl #1] was still extremely upset, my manager let me give her a free milkshake and sit with her for a bit until she calmed down.)

Me: “So, what was that all about? Do you know those girls?”

Girl #1: “They go to school with me. I live in a group home. Ever since they found out, they’ve been following me around and making fun of me for it. I’ve been looking for a quiet place to do my homework for weeks. I can’t do it at the home; it’s too noisy, and I get no privacy there. And I’ve been to a few different coffee shops, and restaurants, and even the library, but they follow me everywhere, and no one has ever kicked them out, because they’re never loud or disruptive. This is the first place to help me.”

(I let [Girl #1] get back to her homework. After that, she came in a few times a week to do homework. I let the managers and other staff know of her situation, so there was always someone there for [Girl #1] to talk to or someone to threaten the bullies with banishment from the mall if they ever came back, which they didn’t.)

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Always The Same Old Song

, , , , , | Right | March 13, 2014

(I am DJing an office Christmas party. A guy who had made tons of requests, most of which I’d played, approaches my workstation.)

Guy: “Where’s my request?”

Me: “I’ve been playing your requests where they fit.”

Guy: “Well, play [Specific Song] next.”

Me: “I’ll get it in soon, but I don’t think it’ll be next. I’ve got a lot of requests coming in, so I have to play them where they fit.”

Guy: “Don’t worry about anyone else’s requests. I’m the boss. Just play my requests.”

Me: “Oh, good. You’re the boss? Then where’s my cheque?”

Guy: “What?”

Me: “Well, since nobody’s bothered to come over and introduce themselves to me yet, I didn’t know who to come find to collect payment.”

Guy: “So, just play my request whenever you can…”

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