Unfiltered Story #160950

, , | Unfiltered | August 29, 2019

Customer: So I just made an appointment for a tutorial, but I forgot to ask if I could bring in my screen, too?

Me: No, you don’t need to do that, we have a monitor we can hook your computer up to.

Customer: Yes, but I want to see how it will look exactly on my screen.

Me: It will look the same. The set up is based on your computer, not your monitor.

Customer: But last time they showed me how to do something by hooking my computer up to their screen, and when I got home and hooked it up to my own screen, it was different, so I didn’t know how to do anything.

Me: It was different, how? Were the icons smaller?

Customer: No, it was layed out differently.

Me: hmmm, that doesn’t really make sense.

Customer: I’m telling you it was different! I just want to see how it will look on MY OWN screen!

Me: ok. just bring your screen in.

I Sleep Really Well Earning The Minimum Wage Of A Teenager

, , , | Right | August 28, 2019

(I am a sixteen-year-old girl working the till at a small-town pet store. A lot of our food is natural and of high quality, so naturally, the price is quite high. This happens one afternoon when a man comes to buy our second-highest quality food, totaling almost $90 for a 13.5-kg bag.)

Me: “Your total is [total].”

(He gets his card out and completes the transaction.)

Customer: “Does your conscience let you sleep at night?”

Me: *confused* “Yeah?”

(I understand what he is getting at a moment later.)

Customer: *makes a comment about the price*

Me: *shrugs shoulders* “I don’t set the prices; I just work here.”

Customer: “But you’re an accomplice, like the driver in a bank robbery.” *glares at me*

(I kind of laughed it off and finished the transaction before telling him to have a good day. It is still one of the weirdest comments I’ve gotten!)

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Gotta Work For Those Dollars

, , , , , , | Working | August 28, 2019

Six months after my grandfather dies we receive a letter from a bank he had a credit card with. This is strange in more than one way, being that the estate lawyer has already closed down all the accounts my grandfather had and that the letter was not sent to the estate lawyer or to us but rather to my grandfather’s old address. We only receive it by chance, seeing as we redirected all his mail to our address for a full year after the fact.

We take the letter to the estate lawyer, and when he opens it we find out that my grandfather had overpaid this particular credit card by an excess of a thousand dollars — something that the bank did not mention when the account was being closed down. Instead of transferring the existing balance to the estate, they instead put it on a prepaid credit card in my dead grandfather’s name, saying in the letter that he can use it anytime at his convenience now that his account has been closed, despite the fact that they had to receive a copy of his death certificate in order to close down the account.

This is where the real craziness begins. The bank refuses to transfer the money off of the prepaid credit card. At first, they even refuse to accept any contact from the estate lawyer, saying they have no idea who he is and that they can’t prove he isn’t trying to scam them. They will only speak to my mother, who works full time and therefore has to take time off work to contact them during business hours. Finally, after much fighting, my mother telling them multiple times that she gives them permission to speak to the estate lawyer, and sending another copy of not only the death certificate but also the lawyer’s credentials, they agree to speak to our lawyer.

A few days go past and the bank calls our lawyer, telling him that they need my mother to come into our local branch to discuss this situation with one of their representatives. My mother has to leave work early to do this and when she gets there, armed with the specific representative’s name, she is told that this is something that cannot be done in branch but rather has to be done over the phone, with the billing department. My mother calls the billing department then and there and is told by them that no, this has to be done in branch. The people at the bank location refuse to call into billing to sort this out and the billing department refuses to call the branch, both of them stating it isn’t their responsibility. By this time, the bank location has closed for the day and my mother is ushered out the door. She leaves extremely frustrated.

For the next few weeks, the estate lawyer calls and emails the bank’s billing department multiple times a day. His emails are ignored and his calls are mostly hung up on. Finally, he manages to be escalated to a manager who sends my mother back to the same specific person at the local branch but with a promise that he will call this person first and tell them exactly what needs to be done. My mother leaves work early again and gets to the bank only to be told that person has already left for the day and that she will have to come back tomorrow. In a fit of rage, my mother yells at the person at the bank that she will be contacting a specific national news organization that runs a segment about regular people being scammed by big corporations. She then calls the bank’s billing department, gives her name, and explains the situation, and tells them the same thing she told the person at the bank branch.

An hour later — and nearly a month since this whole mess began — our lawyer is called by the bank and is told that the money is being sent by certified check and should be there the next day. The situation leaves me to wonder how often this bank has done this before and how much money they’ve made off of this because other people probably weren’t as persistent as we were and most likely just gave up partway through the whole rigamarole.

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Poop Beats Rock, Paper, And Scissors  

, , , , , , | Right | August 27, 2019

As I come into work at the department store where I’m head of maintenance, I am greeted by my manager telling me that this is a rock, paper, scissors type of incident, and then he leads me upstairs. I am very confused until I see a customer with his pants around his ankles, bent over, pooping.   

He methodically goes along a good distance… pooping. Then, security arrives on the scene. This man continues pooping. I observe that he’s been storing this up for a special occasion.  

Eventually, the police arrive. We all stand around until he finishes. I have to clean up. Not a great way to start my shift.

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Unfiltered Story #160936

, , | Unfiltered | August 27, 2019

A customer approaches me.
Customer: “Excuse me. Where do you rent wood?”