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CopyWrong, Part 5

, , , , , | Right | January 4, 2023

I develop film and print digital photos from photo kiosks at a drug store before smartphones are ubiquitous.

Customer: “I want copies of these pictures.”

Me: “Sir, these are copyrighted photos; I can’t copy them.”

Customer: “Bulls***. They’re pictures of my kid.”

Me: “These are senior yearbook photos that are copyrighted by the photographer your child’s school paid to take the pictures. You have to contact them to get more copies.”

Customer: “But my b**** of an ex-wife only gave me one copy!”

Me: “I’m sorry to hear that, sir, but I am not losing my job over your child’s photo.”

Customer: “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Me: “A $10,000 fine.”

Customer: *Pauses* “F***!”

I guess the fine was cheaper than buying the copies legitimately?

Related:
CopyWrong, Part 4
CopyWrong, Part 3
CopyWrong, Part 2
CopyWrong

Nowhere Is It W-R.I.T.-Ten That Retail Employees Don’t Know Anything

, , , | Right | September 13, 2022

I worked in a one-hour photo lab in the early 2000s. People loved their disposable cameras. They also loved the junky souvenir disposable cameras, which were made out of used disposable cameras.

We had one of these lovelies come in that was “waterproof” and had the pre-exposed sayings on the bottom. We were slammed and I was prepping the film, developing the film, and printing. The rest of the staff took turns between the counter and packing and pricing the orders.

I struggled to get this camera out of its so-called waterproof casing, only to see that it was taped together with about a foot of black electrical tape, which promptly fell apart. This roll of film was going to be all messed up. It finally came out of the developer and it was bad. There were light leaks all through the roll, and the frames didn’t match up with the pre-exposed banners that were to be at the bottom of each frame. There were about two good pictures out of the whole roll. Since we don’t want to charge customers for junk pictures, we wrote a note on the envelope to have the customer only keep what they wanted.

A while later, I was at the counter helping customers when a guy picked up this roll of film.

Me: “Hi, sir. Take a look at the roll and let us know which ones we can print.”

He began looking through the pictures, and then he started yelling at me.

Customer: “You ruined my film!”

Me: “Sir, there was a light leak in the camera. We have no control over that.”

Customer: “I went to R.I.T.!”

I was the only one there besides this guy who knew that R.I.T. was the Rochester Institute of Technology, a school known for its amazing photo program. It was my dream school, but I never made it there. I did go to my local community college which had an amazing photo program, and the instructors were known at R.I.T.

I pulled the film out of the envelope and showed him that I knew what I was talking about.

Me: “If we had ruined the film during processing, the light leak would be consistent throughout the film.”

He looked shocked that a big box store one-hour photo employee would actually know what happened to his film.

Me: “I can show you the disposable camera that your film came in if you want.”

Customer: “I’m not going to pay for the prints!”

So, I simply removed all of the prints that were there, put the photo sleeve back in the envelope with just his negatives, and slammed it on the counter.

Me: “Here you go. No charge.”

And I went on to the next customer. He simply tucked tail and left.

Never assume that someone with an hourly job at a big box store doesn’t know what they’re talking about just because of where they work. You might just get your a** handed to you.

We Hope This Newbie Takes The Regular’s Regular Spot

, , , , , , | Right | CREDIT: Electronic-Pie-6645 | August 16, 2022

About twelve years ago, I was working the photo counter at a pharmacy with a corner store attached. On this chilled early spring day, my photo counter is greeted by a regular customer. He is a stern-faced gentleman in his late sixties. He is also a little bit of a paranoid. However, it isn’t unwarranted; he did work as a security officer before retirement.

So, as usual, he comes in to drop off and collect a roll of film. I go into my Corporate Prerecorded Procedure.

Me: “Can I get your phone number, please?”

He responds with his own prepared line, which is said far more angrily.

Regular: “I don’t say my phone number out loud. Look me up by my name.” *Spells out his name*

I then do the far more tedious lookup-by-name method. And there is more than one [Regular] in the system. I would sigh and roll my eyes, but my soul has already left my body and I lack the energy to even be apathetic.

Me: “So, is your phone number [number]?”

He gets angrier.

Regular: “I don’t say my phone number out loud for a reason, you fat butthole.”

Ah, “fat butthole.” Changing it up, I see. Last time it was “oversized moron”.

Me: “So, that’s a yes.”

We go through the now-standard procedures of drop off and pick up — information, photos, and currency exchanged. Being [Regular], he MUST check all twenty-seven of the photos in the pack before leaving, so he steps aside.

From behind him in line appears a customer I’ve never seen before or since. She is a short woman with dark hair and a genuine, honest-to-god smile on her face.

She spills onto the counter a half-dozen rolls of film and disposable cameras. And because the corporate training is so ingrained, I ask:

Me: “Can I get your phone number, please?”

She begins. Halfway through, [Regular] realizes that someone is committing the deadly sin of vocalizing numbers! He reaches over to her, puts a hand on her shoulder, and turns her to him. He looks her dead in the eyes and says, in his angry grandpa voice:

Regular: “Don’t tell him that!”

That was probably the “wrongest” thing he could have done, because the woman SNAPS. First, she slaps his hand off her shoulder. And then, in a rapid-fire assault of words, she cuts into him.

Customer: “Dontyoutouchme! Didn’t your mother raise you to not interrupt? He is just doing his job!”

[Regular] just sputtered and wandered out the front door, tail between his legs.

[Customer] turned back to me and continued giving me her number as if the last forty-five seconds had never happened.

I hate to admit my pettiness, but someone got the employee discount on like a half-dozen rolls of film.

PowerPoint! Office! Reader!

, , , , , | Right | June 13, 2022

A woman walks up to the counter with an old picture showing a group of people.

Customer: “I need you to take everyone except me out of this picture.”

Me: “You mean digitally remove them? Ma’am, I don’t think that’s possible with a picture like this. We’d have to remove nearly all of the photo.”

Customer: “But… Photoshop?”

Me: “I’m sure someone with a lot of time and talent could give it a go, but we’re a humble photo lab. We can do basic manipulation but nothing like what you’re asking.”

Customer: “But… this is a photo… shop?”

Me: “Well, yes. But we can’t do—”

Customer: “Adobe?”

Me: “Well, that’s the company that—”

Customer: “Microsoft?”

Me: “… Ma’am. Are you just saying computer words hoping it will work?”

Customer: “…”

Me: “…”

Customer: “Excel Photoshop?”

Me: “…okay, I don’t think we can help you, ma’am.”

A Godly Glitch

, , , , , | Right | June 6, 2022

I worked in the photo department of a pharmacy store chain a few years ago. Our card machine randomly spat out three pamphlets for a funeral service that had been ordered about ten days prior. It was weird because our orders only stayed in the system for three days. Neither my manager nor I could figure out how it had printed these pamphlets, but we finally shrugged and I threw them on top of our waste pile.

About an hour later, a woman came up to my counter.

Woman: *Quietly* “How long are orders stored? My brother’s funeral was last week, and I wasn’t able to get one of the pamphlets.”

I just stared at her for a second, then walked over, grabbed the mysterious pamphlets, and placed them in front of her. They were for her brother’s funeral.

Me: “Our machine randomly printed these three copies out for no reason.”

The woman started crying.

Woman: “How much do I owe you?”

I just laughed.

Me: “We don’t charge for acts of God.”

It was the only explanation I could come up with.