Sorry But I’m Write About This

, , , | Right | February 26, 2021

I’m working at a thrift store when a call comes in.

Caller: “Do you happen to have bed frames?”

Me: “Unfortunately, no. We had to stop taking them in after a bedbug scare.”

My skin still itches from this nightmarish memory.

Caller: “Do you know any other thrift stores that do?”

Me: “I’ve heard that [Other Thrift Store] does. You could try them. I have their phone number here.”

Caller: “Oh, no, I have mobility issues. It would be easier if you would just transfer me.”

Me: “Ah, no, ma’am. I can’t transfer you.”

Caller: “Why not?!”

Me: “They aren’t affiliated with us. They are an entirely different chain, and they exist two miles down the road from us.”

Caller: “Then you’re just going to have to text me their number.”

Me: “I’m on a landline, ma’am. I can’t make texts.”

Caller: “Fine, fine. I will hold while you go get your personal phone and text me the phone number.”

Oh, heck no! I’m not letting a strange woman get a hold of my personal cell phone number! I’ve seen enough creepy stories on websites to know better than that!

Me: “Ma’am, I have a flip phone. You’re just going to have to pick up a pencil and write it.”

Caller: *Angry* “Do you not understand that I have mobility issues?! Writing is physically painful for me!”

I am annoyed but trying to be sympathetic.

Me: “I do understand, ma’am. Now, do you not understand that writing down the number is your only option unless you look it up on your own phone?”

She huffed and she puffed, but finally, after a lot of clattering and scrabbling, she begrudgingly wrote down the number I gave her. I went slowly and made double sure that she had the number correct before wishing her a good evening.

The last thing I heard before she hung up was, “Customer service is really lacking.”

Unfortunately, even if she was telling the truth about her mobility, she really didn’t have much in the way of options.

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He Has A Real Problem

, , , | Right | February 25, 2021

I’m working at a booth in an indoor farmer’s market when a customer comes to the table and stares at me. There’s a few moments of silence.

Me: “Um, can I help you?”

Customer: “Can I speak to someone real?”

Baffled, I redirected him to the owner, who apparently sufficed.

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What A Fowl Prank

, , , , , , | Right | February 22, 2021

Working in a grooming salon, we tend to get some strange requests. One day, my coworker comes to the back and says she has just been talking to a “crazy” man in the lobby.

An older man came into the lobby and stood for a few minutes before talking to my coworker

Man: “My kids brought me a pet and I want to get it a bath.”

Coworker: “Certainly, do you have a dog or cat?”

Man: “It’s about this big by this big.” 

He held his hands about two feet apart and then indicated about a foot and a half high.

Coworker: “All right, sir, what breed of dog is it?”

Man: “It’s a turkey.”

Coworker: “Oh, um, sorry, sir, we don’t do baths on turkeys.”

Man: “How about raccoons?”

I joked with her that he was a little confused; prank calls work better over the phone.

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Object Permanence Is Hard

, , , , | Working | February 19, 2021

I started babysitting for a family during the health crisis, so I’ve always worn a mask around the kids. One day, I’m hungry, so I back six feet away and take off my mask to eat.

Three-Year-Old: *Amazed* “You have teeth!”

I clarified what he meant and yes, he really didn’t know I had teeth because he had never seen them.

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Beyond The Mountains Of Madness Lie The Plains Of Ignorance

, , , , | Right | February 15, 2021

I’m shopping. I’m wearing a black shirt with a dragon breathing lightning on the front. In no way, shape, or form is this like a uniform in the big box store I’m in. I’m browsing through some shirts, which are stationed across the walkway from the registers, and it’s a quiet time; there are no major crowds, and as per usual for big box stores, there are only a couple registers open.

Shrill Woman: “I’m ready to be rung up now!”

None of my business. I figure it’s probably someone who feels they must announce their presence to the world. I smirk to myself, thinking that this person also announces, “I have to go potty now!” before they walk to the public restrooms.

Shrill Woman: “Helloooo! I’m ready to be rung up nowww!”

I’m digging through the display. Do they have this shirt in blue? All I’m seeing is black or white or tan.

Shrill Woman: “Hello! Hello! Excuse me! Hello!”

Oh, they have it in red, but… meh… I walk around to the other side of the display.

I have a cart with me. This is fully visible to the registers. When I go to the other side of the display, I push my cart, with my purse and a few other purchases in it, to the other side of the display.

I hear the dainty sound of a T-Rex in flip flops come stomp-flapping my way.

There’s the blue! Awww, I don’t like the blue in this style AND they don’t have my size. Darn.

Shrill Woman: “HEY!”

This feminine Randy Savage bellow could have blasted the shirts off the top of the display.

Shrill Woman: “I’m trying to get your attention! I’m ready to be rung up now!”

I slowly look up and meet this person’s gaze.

Me: “That’s nice. Go to any open register you like.”

Shrill Woman: “I’ve already unloaded my stuff onto the conveyor belt. I’m not moving. Get your a** over there and ring me up.”

I stare at her. She stares right back. I break the gaze, grab the bottom of my shirt and stare down at my lightning-breathing dragon on my front. I look back up, slowly, slowly, stretch my face into a huge grin, and then laugh in her face.

Me: “Ha! That’s a good one! Have a lovely day, ma’am!”

She looks outraged, but then she stares at me a little more closely.

Shrill Woman: “You don’t work here.”

Not even a question. The dawn has broken over the Plains of Ignorance.

Me: “Obviously.”

I pushed my cart deeper into the jungle of shirt displays and left her behind. When I looked back a short time later, peering through the tangle of clothes racks, all of her things were back in her cart and she had slunk to the end of the line of an open register.

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