You Can’t Kill The Bill

, , , , , | Right | November 19, 2018

(I am working as a cashier. A customer says that they want to pay their bill for their in-store credit card before checking out. I process the payment and then begin their transaction.)

Me: “Okay, your total today is [amount].”

Customer: “No, I should get a discount for paying my credit card bill up front.”

Me: “Ma’am, it doesn’t matter where you pay your bill. You can pay it at any register, online, or even over the phone. I can’t give you a discount on your transaction for paying your credit card bill.”

Customer: “They have done it before! You just don’t know since you’re new.”

Me: “I am kind of new, but in the six months I’ve been working here, I have never heard of this.”

Customer: “You’re just lying to get more money out of me!”

(An assistant manager thankfully was nearby, and I pawned the customer off on her. I still have no idea why she thought she was entitled to a discount for paying her bill up at the front registers.)

Not Doing A B.A.M. Up Job

, , , , , , | Working | November 18, 2018

(I work at a franchise location of a national restaurant chain. After a looong renovation, it has finally reopened as a flagship store for the entire company. Because of this, our owner, district manager, marketing rep, etc. have been there every day during our busy period to help and to work out the kinks. Unfortunately, many of our old staff found other jobs during the six months we were closed, so most of our staff is new, and some are less than stellar employees. One morning, a newer employee calls to say he is going to be late, over two hours after his shift starts. He speaks to a manager with a common name, let’s say Dan. He keeps cutting Dan off and finally hangs up. He calls back a few minutes later, and our district manager — basically the highest authority other than the owners — answers. Our district manager is also named Dan.)

District Manager: “Thank you for calling [Store]; this is Dan.”

(Pause.)

District Manager: “Yes, this is Dan. What’s up, [Employee]?”

(Pause.)

District Manager: “No, you didn’t speak to me earlier… No, you really didn’t… No, I’m not messing with you,[Employee]; you didn’t talk to me… Yes, this is Dan, but I think I’d know if I’d spoken to you in the last ten minutes… You didn’t talk to me, man…”

(Pause.)

District Manager: *perfectly calm* “I’m sorry, but there’s no one here named B****-A**-Motherf***er.” *hangs up*

(The district manager walks over to the other Dan, still completely calm, and says in a conversational tone of voice:)

District Manager: “[Employee] no longer works here.”

Mother Expresses Shock As Family Bores Of Her 47th Apple Pie

, , , , , , , | Related | November 16, 2018

(For the holidays, my mother always makes an apple pie from her grandmother’s recipe. It’s a completely lovely pie, but she’s made the same one every year for Thanksgiving and Christmas since long before I was born. One Christmas, my brother and I decide to get on her case and tease her about it, asking why she never makes any other variation.)

Brother: “You know, you could mix it up a little, and make something different for once.”

Mom: *sassy* “Oh, like what?”

Me: “I don’t know; try a different fruit. How about blueberry?”

Mom: “No one likes blueberry pie!” *meaning she doesn’t like it, therefore no one does*

Me: “Um, [Brother] does…”

Mom: “Oh, please…” *turns to the rest of the family gathered in the living room, not paying attention to our conversation* “Who here likes blueberry pie?”

(Everyone reacted positively, raising hands or shouting, “Me!” or, “I do!’ My elderly, schizophrenic uncle turned around in his chair and started to shakily struggle to stand up, wondrously crying out, “There’s blueberry pie?!” My brother and I cracked up as my mother rushed to stop my uncle from standing. She had to explain to him that there was no pie but apple, and promised to make him one next time. That moment was the most alert my uncle had been in years, and sadly, my mother never followed through on her promise to make him his pie.)

This Interaction Is Directionless

, , , , | Right | November 15, 2018

(A customer comes in with a bracelet purchased from our store at another location. He has the receipt and is looking to replace it, since the one he bought has some scuffs.)

Customer: “I bought this at the store at [Sister Location].”

Me: “Okay, as long as you have your receipt, you’ll be fine.”

Customer: “I bought it at this store, though.” *begins tapping the receipt showing the location at the top* “Do you know where it is?”

Me: “Not really, although I do know we do have a store there.”

Customer: “What do you mean, you don’t know where it is?!” *begins listing off directions to the other store*

Me: “Sir, this is really not necessary. I know there is a store there; I just don’t know how to get there. I don’t really drive much, except for the town I live in and for coming to work.”

(He begins ranting about the directions to the store again and I interrupt him.)

Me: “Sir, once again, I don’t really drive much. I don’t recognize any of these road names or some of these cities. Even the names of interstates and major roads, I don’t really know. All I need to know is that you purchased this item. It doesn’t matter where.”

(In the end, he decided to keep the bracelet and left. I spent about fifteen minutes with him showing him different jewelry and getting told directions to a store I will never visit.)

Ignoring The Law Doesn’t Mean The Law Ignores You

, , , , , | Legal | November 14, 2018

(My mom and I are enjoying a girls’ day out, going from one store to the next. We hit some traffic so we have to stop. Then, we feel the car lurch forward and hear a thump sound. Mom looks behind us to see another car far too close.)

Mom: “Did she just hit us?”

Me: “I… I think so.”

Mom: “Seriously? And she’s just sitting there?”

(I get out of the car and walk back. The woman watches me intently. I look at the bumpers touching and look at her. She is now waving her hands like she is shooing me away. I point to the point of contact and she mouths, “It’s okay! It’s fine!” I walk back to her passenger window and knock. She looks straight ahead.)

Me: *knock knock* “Hello? Ma’am, could you please roll your window down?”

Woman: *ignores me*

Me: *knock knock knock* “Excuse me, you hit our car. I just want to see if there’s any real damage. Hello?”

Woman: *still ignores me*

(I shrug and take out my phone, taking a few quick photos of our cars and her in the driver’s seat before walking back to capture her license plate. When I do that, the woman gets out of her car.)

Woman: “Get away from my car!”

Me: “I could say the same to you!”

Woman: “Oh, don’t be such a baby. I barely tapped you.”

Me: “So, you admit there was a connection?”

Woman: “What? No! You tricked me! That’s entrapment!”

Me: “I have the photos I need to file a claim. If you don’t give me your insurance info, I’ll be forced to contact the police and report you for fleeing the scene.”

Woman: “This is ridiculous. There’s no damage!”

Me: “If you’re sure, back up your car so we can see.”

Woman: “No! I don’t have to do anything! You’re harassing me!”

(My mom has a few feet of space in front of her, so she moves forward. Sure enough, there is a softball-sized dent in her bumper.)

Woman: “Oh, my God. You can pop that out so easily. I’m done. I’m just done.”

(With that, she gets back in her car and goes back to ignoring me. I tell Mom to pull over to the side of the road, as traffic is starting to move up ahead. As soon as she has space, the woman darts out of line and flies down the shoulder.)

Mom: “What is she doing?!”

Me: “Leaving. She says she’s not at fault.”

Mom: *stunned* “Seriously?”

Me: “She kept ignoring me, too, like I’d just go away. But I got her info. We can file a claim.”

(We called the local police and explained what happened. The officer on scene looked at me in disbelief and rolled his eyes. After much back and forth between insurance companies, her insurance paid for a new bumper and she was charged with leaving the scene.)

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