I was shopping for cereal one day when I noticed something odd further down the row. Approaching it, I discovered that there was a bundle of asparagus that had been shoved behind a box of cereal on the bottom row.
Based on how low it was and the fact that it was obviously hidden, I can only surmise that some kid waited until their mother’s back was turned before ditching a hated vegetable.
(I have recently applied for an EBT card, aka food stamps. While we are not nearly as bad off as some people, and I do work full-time, my significant other has been out of a job, and money has been extremely tight. I complete all my interviews, and I am told to drop off a signed letter describing my income to the local Assistance Office. I start off by talking to the front receptionist.)
Me: “Hi! My name is [My Name], and I was told to drop off this signed letter pertaining to my case.”
Receptionist: “It’ll be a four- to five-hour wait before you can speak with a case worker. Have a seat and wait for your name to be called.”
Me: “Well, I really don’t want to wait that long, and I don’t really need to speak to a worker; I just need to drop this letter off.”
Receptionist: “It will take twice as long to process that if you don’t speak with a worker today.”
Me: “That’s fine; I was prepared to wait before getting my card.”
Receptionist: *looking me up and down* “If you can afford to wait an extra three days, then clearly, you don’t need assistance. Why are you even bothering to be here? You’re wasting everyone’s time!”
Me: *not wanting to explain my whole situation to this lady* “Look: can’t you just process this paper? I’ve already had all my interviews. I’m sorry I don’t have an envelope.”
Receptionist: *snatching the letter from my hand* “If you can afford food for the week, you can afford an envelope. No wonder people like you can’t get good jobs; you don’t even know how to be professional.” *to the line behind me* “Next!”
Me: *pause* “Have a nice day.”
(I just don’t understand how people whose job is to help those less fortunate can be so rude!)
Customer: “Are you telling me I need to put in my social security number to complete the application?”
(It is an online application, and socials are typically required for this sort of form.)
Me: “Have you tried to submit it?”
Customer: “Yes.”
Me: “What did you do?”
Customer: “I pressed ‘submit.'”
Me: “And what happened then?”
Customer: “I got an error message.”
Me: “What did it say?”
Customer: “It said I needed to put in my social security number.”
Me: “Then, yes, it sounds like you do need to put in the number.”
Customer: “Fine. I’ll try again tomorrow.”
Me: “Were you planning to put in your social security number?”
Customer: “I haven’t decided yet!” *hangs up*
(She later called my supervisor. Her complaint? I was making her give us private information before I would give her an acceptance.)
Related:
Social Insecurity, Part 3
Social Insecurity, Part 2
Social Insecurity
Me: *answering a phone call* “[Department]. This is [My Name] speaking. How can I help you?”
(Pause.)
Me: “Hello?”
Caller: “I can’t remember!” *hangs up*
(This is definitely unusual, and my coworkers and I have a quick laugh over it. Soon, though, my phone rings again.)
Me: “[Department]. This is [My Name] speaking. How can I help you?”
Caller: “I don’t remember her name.”
Me: “I’m sorry?”
Caller: “I don’t remember who I was supposed to call!”
Me: “Maybe I can help you out. What—”:
Caller: *interrupting* “It was [Department]. I can’t remember the name of the person I needed to talk to.”
Me: “This is [Department]. I’m [My Name].”
Caller: *gasps* “That’s her! How do you know who I was supposed to call?”
Me: “That’s me. I’m [My Name].”
Caller: “Wow, I sure got lucky that you picked up!”
Me: “This is my direct number.”
(I am at a fast food restaurant that calls out order numbers when they’re ready.)
Employee: “412.”
Customer: “Is this mine?”
Employee: “Are you order number 412?”
Customer: “No.”
Employee: “Then it’s not yours.”
(This conversation repeats verbatim for the next four orders and I can tell the employee is losing his patience.)
Employee: “What is your order number, ma’am?”
Customer: “I don’t know.”
(The employee is able to find her order, which is the next one up. When she takes her order and leaves, the employee sighs in relief.)
Employee: “418.” *my order*
Me: “Is this mine?”
(He got a chuckle out of that. Keep being awesome, service employees; we appreciate it more than you know.)
