I am a part of the central reservations team of a big hospitality company. I get a caller from one of our consolidated hotels.
Me: “Hi! Thank you for calling Reservations, [My Name] speaking. How may I help you?”
Guest: “Do you have a Lost & Found department?”
Me: “Yes, ma’am!”
Guest: “I just wanna let you know that I lost my virginity in room 203.” *Click*
I am doing an internship for a few months. I am living in quite a poor area and going to a very local gym. During my first days at the gym, I ask the coach there what the barbell weight is, as it doesn’t look like a standard fifteen or twenty kg.
Me: “Hey, how heavy is this barbell?”
Coach: “Oh, we don’t know; we don’t have a scale.”
I’m a bit confused because there is one just at the entrance.
Me: “What about that one there? It doesn’t work?”
Coach: “Oh, yes, it does, but not for that.”
Me: *Confused* “Why?”
Coach: “Because it’s only for humans.”
Me: “But…”
This was Manila; I didn’t speak English fluently, and neither did the coach, so I didn’t argue anymore, but he seemed rather confused when I weighed myself and then myself AND the barbell.
Related:
His Opinion Carries No Weights
I work at one of the top hotel reservation websites as a reservation specialist and accept over the phone reservations. I have a caller who says she want to book for a hotel in Las Vegas for her and her daughters. The lady is obviously in her fifties based on the tone of her voice.
Caller: “I want a hotel reserved for me and my two adult daughters in Las Vegas for three nights. I want the room to have an indoor pool, and I want to be close to the airport.”
Me: “Sure, ma’am. Do you have a hotel in mind? Or I can give you some suggestions here on our system that are within your preferences.”
Caller: “No, I have a hotel. It’s called Aladdin Hotel. I’m looking at your website right now; it says $12 a night.”
I am shocked; $12 a night with an indoor pool?
Me: “Oh, let me find that on our system, then.”
After a few minutes, and after thoroughly checking the whole of Las Vegas for an Aladdin Hotel, I can’t find anything.
Me: “Are you sure it’s called ‘Aladdin Hotel’? I can’t find anything on our system with that hotel name.”
Caller: *Irritated tone* “Yessss! I’m looking at it right now on my laptop.”
I search again, and I ask for the hotel’s address and zip code and everything I can use to filter my searches, but to no avail; there’s no Aladdin Hotel.
Me: “Ma’am, we can’t find Aladdin Hotel on our system. I’ll do my best now here; can you spell the name of the hotel?”
Caller: “Are you that dumb? It’s A-L-A-D-D-I-N. Aladdin, like the Disney cartoon, Aladdin.”
Me: “Ma’am, I’m really sorry, but I can’t find that hotel on our system or anywhere.”
Caller: “Oh, my gosh! Connect me to your manager! You are so dumb! Connect me now!”
I connect her to my manager, they do exactly what we did, and they can’t find Aladdin Hotel. My manager connects her back to me and she is now more furious than ever.
Me: “Ma’am, is it A-L-A-D-D-I-N hotel?”
Caller: “Yes, you idiot!”
She shouts to one of her daughters in the background and says, “How do you spell ‘Aladdin Hotel’? This idiot doesn’t know how to spell!”
Daughter: *In the background* “H-O-L-I—”
Me: “Oh, ma’am, is it the Holiday Inn?“
Caller: “Oh, finally! You get it! Somebody needs to get a more formal education, I see.”
I continued helping her. Unfortunately, it was not $12 a night. Ha!
Customer: “I want to return this bread. It’s supposed to be fresh, but the expiration date listed was a week ago! It’s starting to grow mold!”
Me: “Oh, I’m sorry. Let me take a look.”
I see that the printed date did, in fact, pass over a week earlier, and that the bread does seem to have some mold growing.
Me: “Hmm, that shouldn’t happen. If you could show me your receipt, I’ll process a refund.”
The customer hands me a receipt that does have the bread — brand and all — on it, but I notice the receipt is over two months old.
Me: “Ma’am, this is over two months old.”
Customer: “But the bread is expired!”
Me: “Ma’am, this kind of bread is good for about a month. If you had eaten it as soon as you bought it, it wouldn’t have made it to the expiration date.”
Customer: “But I wanted to eat it yesterday, and it was moldy! It should wait for me to want to eat it!”
Me: “Unfortunately, leaving bread out in the open doesn’t do much for its preservation. Next time, you could try putting it in the freezer.”
Customer: “No! You should make it so the bread stays fresh forever!”
Me: “Ma’am, that isn’t biologically possible.”
Customer: “Why not?!”
Me: “Because I’m not God.”
Several minutes later, a manager came over to see what the fuss was about. Naturally, he refused the refund.
This story is included in our Philippines roundup – part of the Not Always Right World Tour!
Read the next Philippines story!
Read the Philippines roundup!
I am a British-born Filipino. I am visiting family in the rural part of the Philippines for the first time. They are quite poor but run a fruit stand in their local marketplace, which they are very proud of. Not wanting to be dead-weight, and wanting to improve my Bisaya — local dialect — I spend time manning the market stall.
I spot some tourists one day, which is uncommon enough in this area, and I recognise the twang of the American accent. I decide to have a little fun.
Tourist: “How much for the bananas?”
I suddenly explode into my most stereotypical East-London cockney rhyming slang. Imagine Dick Van Dyke from “Mary Poppins” coming out of a Filipino face.
Me: “Gawdon Bennett, if it ain’t some lovely Yanks! Forget the Gertie Gitanas, my love, come and ‘ave a butchers at my Ungle Reg!”
The tourist just looks at me blankly, and I can’t help but smile. I return to my normal accent: neutral British.
Me: “Sorry, just having a laugh. The bananas are a hundred pesos for a bunch.”
The tourist is still just staring at me, as if I had two heads. Going on a hunch, I break down into a probably-offensive stereotype of the Filipino accent, like swapping Ps and Fs, the whole works.
Me: “Yes, ma’am. Saging por one-hundred.”
Tourist: “Oh, a hundred, cool! You should stick to English; I couldn’t understand your Filipino before.”
And that was when I learned never to joke with customers ever again.
