Get Out

, , , | Right | January 27, 2019

(I’m in line to pay for the parking garage at a self-serve kiosk in the lobby of a hospital annex building. Each person’s ticket has a barcode that the machine scans, then you pay, and the payment is registered to the barcode and you scan your ticket to get out of the garage. There are five people waiting in front of me. Each person swipes their credit card and the machine gives an error message that it’s unable to print a receipt. It’s finally the turn of the woman in front of me. The screen still shows the transaction of the previous person.)

Customer: “Oh…” *studies the machine and screen* “It’s not working.”

Me: “I think you just have to scan your ticket, that’ll probably trigger it to start over.”

Customer: “Oh…” *waves ticket in front of screen*

Me: “No, where it says to scan ticket.”

Customer: *waves ticket in front of the little platform that says to lay your ticket here to be scanned*

Me: “No, you have to put it there–” *points* “–where it says to.”

Customer: *successfully scans her ticket* “Oh! You were right!”

(Now she has her credit card out and it trying to decide where to put it. She inserts it in the correct slot and leaves it there. The machine eventually gives a message that it will time out, so she taps “continue” on the touch screen. And then waits.)

Customer: “It must not be reading my card!” *she takes the card out, and slowly puts it back in, and leaves it, and the machine times out* “Why is this not working! This machine doesn’t work!”

Me: “I think you need to insert your card and take it right out.”

Customer: “What? No, that’s not how you do it.” *again the machine times out, again she removes her card, again she puts it back in slowly and leaves it*

Me: “No, I really think you’re supposed to do it fast.”

(Finally her card is accepted, as she is turning to me for help so she doesn’t see it, but luckily I notice and tell her it worked. Then she gets the same printing error message everyone’s been getting. I expect her to just go, since we’ve seen this come up for everyone else.)

Customer: “What? Oh, no! It didn’t work!” *she turns to me* “It didn’t work! What do I do now?”

Me: “I think it worked. It said it accepted your payment. That just says it can’t print a receipt; it’s probably out of paper.”

Customer: “But what do I do? I can’t get out now!”

Me: “You only need your ticket to get out; the receipt’s just for your records, if you want it.”

Customer: “No, I won’t be able to get out! What do I do?”

Me: “You have your ticket; that’s all you need.”

Customer: “No, it won’t give me my ticket!”

Me: “The ticket in your hand is what you need. It says to see an attendant, so go see the person in the parking garage if you need the receipt.”

Customer: “Who?”

Me: “There’s always somebody on duty out there, they can probably help you.”

(FINALLY, she steps aside and lets me scan my ticket. I was waiting to pay longer than my appointment took, so the machine tells me my parking is free, and I quickly leave. As I’m walking out the door…)

Customer: “Wait! What about me? I can’t get out!”

(I have no idea if she got out or not. I hope she did!)

Gangbangers Have To Use The Overflow Parking

, , , , | Romantic | January 27, 2019

(My husband and I took our nine-month-old daughter to the doctor’s for her booster flu shot. We drive into a spot that’s labeled “patron parking,” and my husband observes something to the effect of:)

Husband: “Yep, we’re allowed to park here.”

(I turn and get out of the car, while telling him:)

Me: “The label is probably for game days; the lot is rather close to the [Local College Stadium].”

(He gives me a funny look, and comes around to get the baby out of the car.)

Husband: “What did you say the label was for?”

Me: “Game days!”

Husband: *a massive look of relief rests on his face* “Oh, good. I thought you said they were for GANGBANGS.”

(I was laughing so hard that I barely made it to the building in a straight line.)

It Can Be Costly Being A B****

, , , , , , | Right | November 26, 2018

I work as a valet for a parking garage downtown. All of our parking spaces are reserved, and we do not offer self-parking at this location, as every space either belongs to a tenant for the office building above — they pay monthly for their own guaranteed space — or is reserved for us, as we valet customers for [High-End Business] in the building above us.

Time after time, even though it clearly states that we do not offer self-parking — in three spots, including as you grab your ticket from the machine as you enter the garage — I get people who ask where the self-parking is. I explain that either I park their vehicle for them in this garage, or they can use the self-parking lot, which I direct them to. Since valet is complimentary, most customers don’t mind.

Today, some lady comes in as I am manoeuvring vehicles around to let someone leave, and she parks in a reserved spot. She steps out of her Porsche and starts getting some things. I roll down the window and tell her she is parked illegally and needs to move her vehicle. She scoffs and goes back to her things. I finish moving vehicles around, and tell her again that she’s illegally parked and if the tenant comes back — which I know he is going to, since I literally spoke to him about twenty minutes ago — I will have to boot her vehicle.

She scoffs at me again, shouting that she doesn’t give a f*** and, “I only have thirty minutes to do my project; I’m already late,” and walks away.

So, guess who’s coming back out to a boot on her vehicle? And guess who’s going to pay the $100 fine to get it off?

And to think, I had a valet ticket in my pocket. All she had to do was give me her last name and the keys and I could have taken over from there so she could get upstairs.

But, you wanted to be a b****; I hope it was worth your $100.

Putting All Your Groceries In Someone Else’s Car At Christmas Can Be Misconstrued As Gifting

, , , , , , | Friendly | November 14, 2018

My mom is known for being absent minded at times, especially when tired. It is after work during Christmas time, and she rightfully is a bit more stressed and tired than usual. On her way home this evening, she stops to buy groceries at the local market. When she emerges from the store, everything is covered by a light snow. She gets to her car, fumbles a bit with the key and opens the trunk. She is in the process of emptying her shopping cart in the back of the car when she hears a faint cough.

She freezes. Silence. Ever so slowly, she raises her eyes up to see four people, all seated and buckled up, looking at her in shock. She looks at them, they look at her. She checks the car and it looks the same. She then checks the number plate and notices it is not her car. She turns her head and sees that her car is the one right next to it.

Without a word and without breaking eye contact with the family, she gets all of her groceries out of their car, slowly closes the trunk ,and walks a few meters to hers. They leave while she is still filling her trunk with the bags, and they still look shocked. From now on, she always checks the license plate before touching any car!

Driving Yourself Into A Dead End

, , , , | Legal | August 7, 2018

(My office has a parking lot straight across the road from us, where my coworkers and I park our vehicles. Since my office is at the front, I can see the vehicles that come and go through the day. It’s late morning when I notice a red Mercedes parked beside my car, and the owner is apparently waving their hands around, gesturing between vehicles. I hurry out to see what’s going on and see there’s a large red smear on the back of my car, and my bumper has been dented.)

Me: “Oh, God, what happened?”

Owner: “I’ll tell you what! When you parked your d*** car, you hit my Belle!”

Me: “Your… what?”

Owner: “You hit my f***ing car!!”

Me: “That is practically impossible. When did you get here?”

Owner: “I got here over an hour ago. Look at this. Look what you did! I want your insurance information now!

Me: “Fine. And I need yours. However, it’s obvious you hit my car.”

(By this time, a coworker has come out to see what is going on. I give her my phone to ask her to take pictures while I trade information with the car owner.)

Me: “I’m not pulling my insurance information out until you get yours.”

Owner: “I shouldn’t have to! You hit me!”

Me: “Buddy, I’ve been here since 7:30. I have been in my d*** office over there this whole time. How else do you think I saw you standing out here, waving your arms around like a loon? Either get your papers out, or I call the cops. Since I have witnesses to prove where I was, I’m pretty sure you’re going to be the one getting in trouble.”

Owner: *splutters* “How dare you?! Do you know who I am?”

Me: “The a**-hole who hit my car. I’m calling the police.”

(Funny how me saying that introduced the insurance card. I still called the cops, because his insurance paperwork was outdated. He still didn’t understand why he was getting a ticket. When I called his insurance, I had to fax them a copy of the police report, because he’d told them it was my fault.)

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