Their Lack Of Professionalism Is An Eye-Sore

, , , | Healthy | October 27, 2017

(My eye insurance changes when I got a new job, so I need to find a new doctor for my contacts exam. I choose one in the same building as my previous job at a pharmacy, as I’ve met [Doctor], who is a really nice guy, and call to make an appointment.)

Me: “Hi, before I make an appointment, I want to confirm that you take my insurance?”

Receptionist: “Oh, the plan offered by the local hospital? Of course we do.”

(I’m scheduled for the next open appointment, three months away. Fast forward to the day of the appointment. She copies my insurance cards, and I wait for my exam.)

Nurse: “[My Name]. Good afternoon, the doctor will be in to see you shortly.”

(In walks a short, bald, bearded man, not the tall, thin, bespectacled fellow I knew from the pharmacy, but I figure perhaps [Doctor] has expanded his practice or has a fill-in today. He proceeds to do my exam and tells me my script will be up front, no niceties, no introduction.)

Me: “Thank you! And I’m sorry, but I didn’t catch your name.” *primarily so I know not to schedule an appointment with him again*

Doctor: “[Doctor], of course!”

Me: “Oh, I apologize. I mistook the taller gentleman with glasses for you.”

Doctor: “He’s just the optician.”

(Cue the end of the awkwardness, and I go up front to pay my copay and get my script.)

Receptionist: “That will be [amount nearly $300].”

Me: “What? Shouldn’t it be $50 with my insurance and deductible?”

Receptionist: “Oh, we only take your insurance for eye emergencies.”

Me: *pays with mouth agape*

(She knew they only took my insurance for emergencies and scheduled me for an obviously non-emergent appointment. Then she copied my cards, again not pointing out that it wouldn’t cover my visit. And the doctor was an unfriendly, cold fellow to boot. Needless to say I never went back, even though my insurance has now changed to something they universally accept.)

The Working Dead

, , , , | Working | October 26, 2017

(My place of work is very laid back, so things like this are a normal occurrence.)

Female Coworker:  “Why is there a framed photo of Norman Reedus shirtless with the caption ‘Ladies, you’re welcome’ at the front desk?”

Boss: “You’re welcome.”

An Idiotic Gift

, , , , , | Right | October 26, 2017

(I work at a movie theater. An older gentleman comes up and buys six tickets for himself and a group of friends for the upcoming weekend. He’s a bit cranky while selecting his showtime and seats, but otherwise the transaction goes smoothly. When it comes time to pay, things take a turn. He pulls out a wad of papers and throws them at me without even making eye contact.)

Customer: “Use these.”

(I unfold the crumbled papers to find about a half-dozen receipts.)

Me: “Um, these are receipts.”

Customer: “Gift card receipts. Use ‘em.”

(I look again. They’re receipts for gift cards he’s purchased for the theater from the local [Retailer]. They literally just say “Gift Card” and the amount he paid — no card number, no scan bar, nothing that I can use.)

Me: “Do you happen to have the cards that you purchased? I can’t just use a receipt like this.”

Customer: “I’m not an idiot.”

Me: “I didn’t say you were.”

Customer: “Use ‘em.”

Me: “Unfortunately, I can’t. I either need the gift cards themselves or the sixteen-digit serial number from the back of the cards to redeem them.”

Customer: “Look. I’m not an idiot.”

Me: “I didn’t say you were.”

Customer: “Use ‘em, then!”

Me: “Sir, I have no way of using your gift cards with just these receipts. I either need the cards themselves or the serial number from the back.”

Customer: *deep sigh* “It’s always a different story from you clowns! Out to get the little guy while you line your pockets.”

Me: “Sir, the way the gift cards work has never once changed in the seven years I’ve worked here.”

Customer: “I. Am. Not. An. Idiot. If I couldn’t use these receipts, why would I have thrown out my gift cards, then? Huh?”

Me: “Wait, what? You threw out your gift cards?”

Customer: *after a pause, looking concerned* “I didn’t say that! I’m not an idiot! Just use the receipts!”

Me: “Sir, I can’t.”

(This back and forth continued for another two minutes. The customer kept insisting that he “wasn’t an idiot” and becoming angry that we couldn’t use his receipts. A nearby manager even got involved, and it just continued on in the same circle of idiocy. The customer ended up throwing some cash at me for the tickets and leaving. So, he bought gift cards, immediately threw them away, and then threw a hissy fit when he couldn’t use the gift cards he threw away… but don’t worry, he made sure to let us know he “wasn’t an idiot.”)

Pogo Bounce Out Of That Marriage

, , , , , , , , | Related | October 25, 2017

I’m the lead singer in a metal band that does both original songs and covers. When my brother got engaged, his bridezilla fiancée asked my band to perform at the wedding. At some point she realized that they were going over budget, so her solution to cut back on costs was to tell us at the very last minute that she expected us to work for free because I was family and therefore “obligated,” even though we had already agreed to work at a discount because we were playing for a family event. I was furious, and the only reason we didn’t cancel was because it would have been too late for them to find a replacement and I love my brother and didn’t want to ruin his wedding.

Between her refusal to pay us, her constant treating of my brother and our family members like crap, her refusal to make me a bridesmaid solely on the grounds that I wasn’t “pretty enough”, meaning I’m tomboyish, and several underhanded insults she levied at one of my bandmates for being a transman, we were all very displeased with her come the morning of the wedding. She was either oblivious to our displeasure, or she just didn’t care.

While we were setting up, an hour before we were supposed to play, the bride came up to us, stood in our way, and suddenly announced that she didn’t like our chosen set because it wasn’t “romantic enough,” even though she and my brother both approved of it in advance. She was apparently under the impression that musicians can learn songs on the fly without practice or having ever performed them before, and asked us to play the Celine Dion song from Titanic, to which our drummer replied, “You realize we’re a f****** metal band, right?”

Our bass guitarist suddenly had a light-bulb moment and told her that he knew a love song we could play for her. She got excited and told us to play that one first. When she walked away and he told us what song he had in mind, we all agreed it was a great idea.

When it came time for our set to start, we opened up with a cover of “Bounce” by System of a Down, which is technically a love song. I don’t think I ever saw my brother’s fiancée run so fast, in heels, and my brother was dying of laughter.

After the wedding, we found out my brother didn’t even know that she had decided not to pay us, and he made sure we got paid, even though his new wife insisted that we didn’t even deserve it for ruining her wedding with our stunt.

They got divorced just two months later, because it turns out that when you marry someone who’s controlling and abusive, they don’t stop being controlling and abusive. No one was really surprised at the divorce, and my brother cited our spontaneous song choice as his only good memory of the wedding, anyway.

1 Part Bleach To 100 Parts Stupidity, Part 2

, , , | Healthy | October 25, 2017

(I am a pharmacy technician, not qualified to recommend drugs or dispense advice. Any questions about actual medicine, I am required to pass off to a pharmacist, even if I think I know the answer.)

Me: “Hello, how may I help you?”

Customer: *mumbling* “Um, I think I—” *mumbles* “—contact with bleach…”

Me: “I’m sorry, what? Could you repeat that?”

Customer: “I think I might have swallowed some bleach and was wondering if the pharmacist could recommend anything.”

Me: *trying not to look alarmed* “Well, if I were you, I would call the Poison Control Center, but I’ll check with the pharmacist.”

(I go back to the counter where the pharmacist is working.)

Me: “This guy says he might have ingested bleach and wants to know if you can recommend anything. I told him he should call the Poison Control Center.”

Pharmacist: “Yeah, that’s about it.”

(I go up to the front counter and repeat this advice to the customer.)

Customer: “Well, I drank some fluids and I’m feeling better now. I had some [soda], and some water, and some lemonade. My chest was hurting before but now it’s better. Do you know if bleach can make your chest hurt?”

Me: “Um… probably. If you swallowed bleach, it could hurt on the way down. You should probably call the Poison Control Center.”

Customer: “Eh, maybe I’ll call them tomorrow. If I’m not feeling better then, I can go to the emergency room, too.”

Me: “I would call them tonight if I were you, just to be safe. Do you want their number?”

(I write it down on the nearest piece of paper and hand it to him.)

Customer: “Yeah, thanks. I might call them tomorrow.”

(He wanders away, but comes back later. My coworker is an intern, studying to become a pharmacist, and gets to the counter first. I overhear their conversation.)

Customer: “I was wondering about water pills. What do they do?”

Coworker: “Um, they make you urinate.”

Customer: “Can I get some of those?”

Coworker: *realizing why he’s asking* “They don’t flush out your system; they’re used to lower blood pressure. And you would need a prescription.”

Customer: “Can I get one of those?”

Coworker: *bewildered* “We don’t give prescriptions here; we just fill them. You would need to go to a doctor.”

(The customer wanders away, apparently still confused about a lot of things.)

Me: “I hope he’s going to be okay.”

Pharmacist: “If he had really swallowed bleach, his throat would be burned. I don’t know what’s wrong with him, but there’s nothing else we can do.”

Related:
1 Part Bleach To 100 Parts Stupidity

Page 5/22First...34567...Last
« Previous
Next »