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Now We Know Why She Needs A Psychologist

, , , , | Right | January 17, 2021

I’m at my psychologist’s office waiting for my appointment. This clinic has two locations that are about twenty minutes apart. A lady walks in.

Lady: “I have an appointment for [Psychologist].”

Receptionist: “Oh, we seem to have you booked for [Other Office].”

Lady: “Well, no one told me!”

Receptionist: “I’m sorry, you should have received a text message confirmation. Did you get one?”

Lady: “No! I don’t have my phone; this is my husband’s phone!”

Receptionist: “Oh, I’m sorry. Well, we did send a reminder. I’ve just checked and your other appointments are booked for this office, but today’s appointment is booked for the other office.”

Lady: “Typical! I just drove over three hours to get here!”

Receptionist: “I’m sorry; would you like to head over to the other office? I’ll let them know you’re coming. It’s only about twenty minutes away.”

Lady: “Yes! I know! I just came from there!” *Storms out*

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Time And Fried Wait For No Man

, , , , , | Right | January 13, 2021

I have been working at this chain for a few years, so I am quite proficient at my job and am usually commended on my customer service.

I am on the dinner shift taking orders for drive-thru. As it is a busy night, they have rostered enough people on so that I can just take orders and I have a coworker next to me taking the money. There is already a long line of cars waiting to have their orders taken.

This particular fast food chain has timers for how long it takes from the customer arriving at the speaker box to when they pull out of the drive-thru. These will vary slightly depending on the length of your drive-thru. Our particular store has a three-minute timer that we are supposed to meet consistently to stay in the green.

Me: “Hi, welcome to [Restaurant]. Please place your order.”

The customer is in a van and is taking orders from various people in the car. Any time when it sounds as if she has finished her order, I ask:

Me: “Is there anything else I can get for you today?”

I have my managers talking over my headset, giving me updates on the timer, as they have cleared all of the drive-thru customers before her. The timer is over five minutes, and the line of cars is blocking most of the small car park. As we have two speaker boxes, one behind the other, the managers have already taken the order for the car stuck behind her, which is a singular meal.

This whole time, I have been as polite as possible and not said anything rude, but all of us in the store are getting frustrated, wishing she had come into the store to order. Around the seven-minute mark, I ask her:

Me: “Is that all tonight?”

Customer: “Yes.”

Finally! There is an audible sigh of relief from everyone listening in on the headset.

Customer: “For my second order…”

We do allow split orders in the drive-thru, though only usually two per car.

This order didn’t take quite as long, but I politely tried to hurry her along as she was well over the timer and had ruined our times for the night. We are ranked against all the stores in the country, and occasionally, the managers will offer free meals if we don’t go over the time on any cars.

She finally pulled up to the window at about the ten-minute mark. I was taking the next customer’s order and my frustrated coworker, who has less patience than I, was still polite but quite short with her trying to hurry her through the drive-thru.

After she finally left, my manager came down to tell me that she had complained about me, saying I was rude and rushing her through her order. Fortunately, my managers know I am always polite and listened to the whole conversation on the headset.

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Didn’t Listen Property Properly

, , , | Right | January 8, 2021

My roommate and I have applied to rent two different properties but prefer [Property #2] to [Property #1]. Because we put in for [Property #1] first, we have been expecting to hear back from them first.

Real Estate Agent: “Hello, this is [Real Estate Agent] from [Company]. I’m calling to let you know that you have been approved for [Property #2]. It’s yours if you still want it.”

Me: “Thank you so much! I’ll get back to you after I check with my roommate and the other rental we’re waiting to hear from. Thanks again. I’ll let you know soon.”

I speak to my roommate.

Me: “So, we’re approved for [Property #1]. I’m just going to give [Property #2]’s real estate a call to find out where they’re up to with our application.”

I call the number and the same real estate agent that I have just been speaking to answers.

Me: “Hi, this is [My Name]. I have a rental application pending with you and I was just wondering whether you could tell me if it has been processed.”

Real Estate Agent: “Um, as I just told you, you’ve been approved. That means it’s yours if you want it. Have you checked with the other real estate yet?”

Embarrassed, I pause while I hope for the ground to swallow me up.

Real Estate Agent: “You thought I was from the other real estate the first time, didn’t you?”

Me: “Yes.”

Real Estate Agent: “Do you still need to check with them or your roommate?”

Me: “No, yours was the one we wanted. We’ll definitely take it. Thank you.”

After getting off the phone:

Me: *To my roommate* “So, we got [Property #2], but I made a huge fool of myself.”

Roommate: *Excited* “We got [Property #2]?!”

Me: “I’m too mortified to be happy.”

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Whatever Happened To Simply Screaming For Ice Cream?

, , , , | Right | January 5, 2021

I work in a popular fast food joint. There’s an ongoing joke about how often our ice cream machine is broken and we get a fair bit of crap for it.

One day, our machine is broken as usual when we get three cars coming through the drive-thru looking purely for ice cream. They are okay with it being broken to varying degrees; one is fine and the other two are a bit angry.

A fourth car drives up and asks for four chocolate sundaes and two soft serves. I reply with our normal:

Me: “I’m very sorry, but our ice cream machine is unavailable right now. I can offer you anything else on our menu.”

Normally, a customer will reply with either, “That’s okay, thank you,” or just start yelling, but whatever.

This customer stays silent for a few seconds and then just screams into the speaker.

Customer: “WELL, I SHOULD JUST CUT MY OWN THROAT, THEN!”

Then, she just drove off, still yelling out of her car window, with two kids no older than ten in the back.

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As If Her Burden Wasn’t Heavy Enough

, , , , | Working | December 27, 2020

I have an incredibly hard to find bra size — 34JJ — and grew up in a city that, for many years, had no options available for larger cup sizes.

When I have just finished university, I desperately need some new togs — swimwear — and I need them to be supportive. I go into a local combination bra and swimwear shop and start browsing. An enthusiastic saleswoman approaches.

Saleswoman: “Hi! Can I help at all?”

Me: “I think I’m okay. You don’t appear to have my cup size so I’m just looking for a swim shirt.”

Saleswoman: “Oh, but we go up to a G cup in a few styles!”

Me: “I’m a 34JJ cup, but I promise I’m happy browsing.”

Saleswoman: “Oh, no, I’m sure we have something that will fit you. Here—”

The saleswoman shuffles me off to the dressing room. At the time I was less confident than now and was very shy about clothes shopping, so I didn’t manage to say no before she’d pulled the curtain behind me.

Saleswoman: “Now, I’ll be back in one moment for some things for you to try!”

Within twenty seconds she is back.

Saleswoman: “I just went up a few sizes at the back; I’m sure it will fit!”

She thrusts a size 42F bikini top into my hands and pulls the curtains shut.

Saleswoman: “Just try it on!”

Me: “But I know this won’t fit.”

Saleswoman: “Of course, it will! Try it on and let me see.”

I pull aside the curtain and attempt to leave only to find that she is actually blocking my exit from the changing area.

Me: “I really want to go now.”

Saleswoman: “Just humour me; I think you’ll be surprised!”

I try it on. The fit is horrific.

Me: “It doesn’t fit.”

Without warning, the saleswoman pulls open the curtain and steps in to start pulling at it.

Saleswoman: “It’s not too bad, if you just tighten this here and here.”

Me: “It doesn’t fit. The cups are way too small and there’s no support at the back.”

Saleswoman: “Just let me grab some other options.”

She then leaves, and before I can finish getting changed, she has come back, another three or four sets of bikini tops in hand.

Saleswoman: “Don’t worry! We’ll find something, I promise!”

Me: “No, it’s fine; nothing here is going to fit.”

Saleswoman: “Now, now, I know what I’m talking about.”

And she refuses. To let. Me leave. She keeps blocking the doorway and touching me without asking, and she makes me try on several more swimwear sets until finally I snap and start to cry.

Me: *Crying* “Please, enough. Nothing fits and I just want to go.”

Saleswoman: *Suddenly cold* “Well, you’re never going to find something that fits with that attitude. I just have a few more here; they’re a slightly different style that I think will work—”

Me: “No! I just want to go!”

Saleswoman: “There’s no need to be so rude about it. I’m just trying to help.”

Seriously, lady. I don’t know if she got paid commission, but it took me more than a year to finally work up the courage to shop for swimwear again, and I never went back to that store.

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