Unfiltered Story #116454

, | Unfiltered | July 12, 2018

We’re getting towards the end of our winter sale stock, and all the sizes we have of slippers are now out.
A young couple browsing ask me for sizes…

Lady: “Do you have this in a size 8?”
Me: “No, I’m sorry all our sizes are out.”
Lady: “So do you not have this in a size 8?”
Me: “Afraid not.”
Lady: “So I can’t see any more of these (she says, holding a size 7). What about a size 9?”

Me: *facepalm*

(imagine this conversation going on for the next 20 minutes)

First Lady Served, Last Lady Respected

, , , , , | Right | May 3, 2018

(I am a banquet server at a large “public ivy” college that is particularly known for its high economics rating, because they’re usually cheap and/or selfish, and cater to their donors instead of their employees. On this day, I am catering to the president of the university, his wife, and the donors and retirees of the university, and they have pulled out all the stops. Having encountered them before, I know it is mandatory not to serve my guests until the president and his wife has been served, or else the president’s wife will pitch a fit; she’s not known for being a pleasant person. We take our trays of food out, and I wait patiently as my coworker goes to serve the president of the university, then his wife.)

Wife: “Excuse me, miss?”

Coworker: “Yes, Mrs. [Wife]? Is there something wrong?”

Wife: “Yes, you should know something.”

(I watch in horror as she then THROWS her plate of food to the floor — the plate alone was worth more than $50 — and it shatters into a million pieces as food goes everywhere. Her husband, the president, doesn’t react.)

Wife: “You always serve the lady first! LADIES ALWAYS COME FIRST!”

Coworker: *stunned silence* “I… I’m sorry, Mrs. [Wife]. Would you like me to bring you out another plate?”

Wife: “NO! You’ve ruined this entire dinner! I’ll be talking to the head of your department! You will never work here again! I hope you kill yourself, you uncultured pig!”

(The wife then crosses her arms and pouts. As my coworker walks away to get a broom, one of the donors at my table nudges me.)

Man: “Is she always like that?”

Me: “Yes, I’ve encountered her before. She told me that my dreams of being a writer are stupid and I should expect nothing more of myself than working at [Fast Food Place], because I’m too incompetent for anything else.”

Man: “Well, if that’s the case…”

(He proceeds to hand me two $50 bills, which is almost half of what I make per paycheck.)

Man: “Split that between yourself and the young woman who served [Wife]. You both are lovely young ladies, and I promise to you both that [University] won’t get a penny more from me until that wretched woman is gone!”

Me: “Thank you, sir.”

(The president’s wife proceeded to sit and pout for the rest of the evening and refused everything we brought to her. Less than a week later, Mr. [President] announced that he was stepping down at the beginning of the spring semester. Needless to say, all of catering had a party on that day, happy to finally be getting rid of that horrible woman.)

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[Citation Needed]

, , , , , | Learning | March 21, 2018

(Midway through my dissertation, I have to submit an interim report. I do so, and get the following email back from the markers.)

Markers: “We are unable to process your submission, as our automatic plagiarism scanners flagged up more than the 15% plagiarism allowance. Please make an appointment to see your tutor.”

(They’ve attached a link to their automated report. I have a look at it, and laugh.)

My Email Back: “The report says more than 15% of it was plagiarised from [My Name]. I am [My Name]. I copied and pasted some sections from my introductory report into this one, as the guidelines told me to do.”

Markers: “We’ll let this slide this time, but make sure to check in future.”

(Some time later, I tell this story to someone who works in a different university and marks papers there.)

Other Marker: “Yeah, that happens a lot. Most of the others don’t bother looking at the paper itself; they just say, ‘No, don’t waste time. Just look at the report!’ I had one student who had to write a paper analysing the lack of references in Wikipedia articles. He posted the article he was using as a case point in his paper. The lack of references in there got flagged by the system. If I hadn’t taken the time to read it through, they’d have thrown it out.”

On The Rocks Hits Rock Bottom

, , , , , | Right | December 6, 2017

(I am serving a woman and I’m about to make her drink for her meal.)

Customer: “Please, can I just have a little bit of ice? I don’t like too much ice.”

Me: “Of course; I’ll just sprinkle a little in the bottom.”

Customer: “Oh no, I prefer me ice at the top of the cup; could you please put it there instead?”

Me: “Umm, sure, I think I can manage that…”

Bouncing Around The Club Tonight

, , , , , | Working | June 22, 2017

(The dance floors of this club are ringed with chairs and counters. I’m sitting out a couple of songs when I spot a bouncer whom I’m convinced has it in for me and is now staring at me. I shrug it off and look elsewhere. But seconds later, I feel him grab my shoulder. I turn to see what he wants and gently lift his hand off, but he grabs me again.)

Me: “Can I… help you?”

Bouncer: “Why are you sitting there?”

Me: “I was a bit tired, so I sat down for a while.”

Bouncer: “You need to go home.”

Me: “I’m not breaking any rules.”

Bouncer: “We can discuss this outside.”

Me: “Er… fine.”

(I follow him out.)

Bouncer: *to the doorman* “I caught him sleeping on the dance floor. He needs to go home.” *marches off*

Me: “What? No. I was just sitting down, because I was a bit tired.”

Doorman: “If you’re feeling tired, you need to go home.”

Me: “No, I mean… fatigued from dancing. I wasn’t sleeping; I don’t know why he got that impression. Look, I haven’t broken any rules and I’m not that drunk.”

Doorman: *considers* “All right. Go back in.”

(I go back in and order another drink (only my fourth) and sit down to drink it. The same bouncer comes my way.)

Bouncer: “I told you to go.”

Me: “The doorman let me back in.”

Bouncer: “But you’re sitting down again. If you’re tired you need to go home.”

Me: *gestures at 20 other people sitting round the dance floor* “Do you do this with everyone who sits down in here?”

(He went off to get another bouncer. By the time they got back, I’d finished my drink and got up to dance again, looking nicely energetic. I saw them next to where I was sitting with him gesturing my way and the other bouncer laughing at him.)