Doesn’t Understand The Prints-iple

, , , | Right | March 27, 2018

(This takes place in the self-serve area of our copy shop, where we have little tablet-like computers beside the copiers, where you can pay, insert a memory stick, or print from a few online sources.)

Customer: *pointing at the tablet screen which says “the copier is now ready to use”* “It’s not working! How am I supposed to get the files on my memory stick to show up!?”

Me: “It looks like you selected ‘Make Copies.’”

Customer: “Yeah.”

Me: “If you’re printing from a USB, you need to select ‘Make Prints.’”

Customer: “That’s the same thing.”

Me: “Um… No, it’s not. ‘Make Copies’ would make photocopies at the copier. ‘Make Prints’ would mean you are printing something… from a digital source.”

Customer: “Well… I’ll give that to you… but they’re the same thing!”

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Analogies Stick Around After Dessert

, , , , , , | Related | March 27, 2018

Years ago, when I first started dating my now-husband, we were together with his kids: a five-year-old daughter and a seven-year-old son. I don’t know how this conversation got started, but we were discussing relationships boundaries. As far as “looking” went, I said that my philosophy with my significant other was, “It doesn’t matter where you get your appetite from, as long as you come home for dinner,” meaning that I can’t stop them from “looking,” but it is not something that I am insecure about. I didn’t even think about the kids being there, figuring they wouldn’t understand what I was talking about.


Months later, we were all in the car driving somewhere. While stopped at a light, I noticed a nice-looking guy walking by and started checking him out — not ogling or drooling, just looking — when suddenly from the back seat, his daughter screamed out, “[MY NAME], STOP CHECKING OUT THE MENU!”

I laughed so hard, then. Thirteen years later, I still kid her about it.

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Unfiltered Story #107803

, , , | Unfiltered | March 26, 2018

Me: “Hi how, are you toda-”


This happened far too often.


Assault By Battery

, , , , , | Right | March 21, 2018

(I am in the middle of helping a customer find a picture light to hang above her painting.)

Me: “Were you looking to power it by batteries, plug it in, or hardwire it?”

Customer: “Definitely not batteries. I can’t have batteries. I’m allergic.”

Me: “You’re… allergic? To batteries?”

Customer: “Yes, one of them split open on me once, and I got a horrible rash from the stuff inside!”

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Getting Owned By The Owner, Part 11

, , , , | Right | March 21, 2018

(The owner of our boutique is a therapist, with her legal name and info on our website. In training, and in our manual, she outlines the procedure where patients who want product must go through her office for confidentiality and ethical tracking requirements, and a form she only fills out for friends. Everyone in her personal life, including us, calls her a completely different name, so we can quickly identify who knows her or may be a stalker by proxy. The public does not know this name.)

Me: *at cash* “Did you find everything you were looking for today?”

Customer: “Yes. Well, no. I expected to see [Owner’s Legal Name], but I guess she’s not in.”

Me: “She’s providing therapy this afternoon.”

Customer: “That’s too bad. It’s been too long.”

Me: “That’ll be [price].”

Customer: “What?! I’m a friend. Don’t I get a discount?”

Me: “You’re not her friend.”

Customer: “Of course I am! What makes you say that?”

Me: “Aside from my never having seen you at her annual birthday party, you don’t even have her name right.”

Customer: “Oh, gosh. I always forget.” *mispronounces owner’s legal name with “foreign” pronunciation* “She never holds me to that, you know.”

Me: “Riiiight. There’s also this little tidbit.” *pulling out manual and quoting* “’My friends and family will always have the proper paperwork for discounts, not only for legal reasons but because—’” *emphasis* “’—my loved ones have too much professionalism and class to put underlings on the spot. When they want discounts, they will ask me.’”

Customer: *flabbergasted* “Well, I never! I was just saying friend because I was too embarrassed to say client! Yet you shame me.”

Me: “I was just quoting my rule book, ma’am. As for clients, all of them know they aren’t supposed to come to the store, and that they receive catalogues so they can order through her, confidentially. If you were a client, you wouldn’t have even needed to leave your house, and your order would be at your next appointment.”

(The customer is telling me off as the owner comes in. The customer is claiming I’m rude when the owner looks over and sees the manual open to the discount page.)

Owner: *in her compassionate yet stern therapist voice* “Did you lie to my employee and tell her we knew each other?”

(The customer looks scared. I am not sure, but she may have barely nodded.)

Owner: *tone still serious* “Why did you lie?”

(The customer seems to only gag and stutter. The owner holds up her hand in stop signal.)

Owner: “It doesn’t matter if you are a pathological liar, or of such weak moral character as to put her job in jeopardy to save—” *picks up her order to look* “—a measly $2. Either way, we do not reward bad behaviour in my establishment. Please leave.”

(The owner puts her things behind the counter and lets out a big sigh. She then pulls out her wallet and hands me a $10.)

Owner: “Why don’t you walk it off and, when you come back, bring us both some drinks?” *takes back $10 and gives me $20* “On second thought, go buy yourself some cake. I can see you stood your ground, and I’m proud.”

(I love my boss!)

Getting Owned By The Owner, Part 10
Getting Owned By The Owner, Part 9
Getting Owned By The Owner, Part 8

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