Unable To Disable Nana’s Thinking

, , , , , | | Related | July 18, 2019

(I’m disabled. I have a disability permit that is displayed in my car for parking, but I’ve had car issues so that’s at the garage. My nana has given me a lift to do the food shop. She stops to park in a disability spot.)

Me: “Oh, Nana, we can’t park here.”

Nana: *sweet nana voice* “But you’re disabled.”

Me: “Yes, but I don’t have my permit with me to display.”

Nana: *confused nana voice* “But you’re disabled?”

Me: “But Nana, this spot is for blue badge holders only, and I don’t have my blue badge.”

(Nana considers this, and then pulls into the spot.)

Me: “Nana! You’ll get a fine!”

Nana: *angry Nana voice* “But you’re disabled!”

Smoking Will Kill You

, , , , , , | Right | March 30, 2019

(So far, the refund of a faulty petrol-powered hedge trimmer has been going normally. The item has been deemed faulty by an expert, and the customer has his receipt and has been pleasant throughout. However, there is a problem: for legal reasons we cannot accept the hedge trimmer until the petrol has been drained out it. This has to be done by the customer offsite and into a fuel can for safety reasons. I explain this to the customer, and he appears to understand and walks off. I’m just serving the next customer when, out of the corner of my eye, I witness this customer pouring petrol into a PAPER CUP, which is in turn balanced precariously on top of the cigarette bin at the entrance to the store.)

Me: “Stop! Stop! For the love of God stop!”

Customer: “Why? What am I doing?”

Me: “I said for you to empty that offsite into an appropriate container! And look what it’s on!”

(The customer begins to slowly read the words, “Please extinguish your cigarette here.”)

Customer: “Oh. I didn’t realise what you meant.”

(After this, we now make sure that customers take such items away before serving the next customer.)

Cause For Pregnant Pause, Part 20

, , , , , | Legal | February 27, 2019

(I park in the disabled bay in front of the office like I do every morning. I’m disabled and have a blue badge on display in the car. I notice a laminated sign someone has stuck on the end of the space saying, “Pregnant employees ONLY.” Figuring it has blown over from one of the regular parking bays I just put it carefully to one side and go into work. Coming out later that afternoon I find a parking ticket on my car! I take it into the security office and say this is obviously a mistake.)

Me: “Okay, think you got the wrong car, mate. I’m in the disabled bay with a disabled permit, so I’ve not done anything wrong.”

Security: “Did you see the sign this morning? ‘Pregnant employees only.’ You’re going to have to park in that disabled bay over the road.”

(It’s a four-lane dual carriageway.)

Me: “Is someone in the office disabled due to being pregnant or something?”

Security: “No, but she wants a guaranteed parking spot close to the building, so we’re using the disabled bay for now.”

Me: “I’m not paying this fine, you know, and I’m going to keep parking in that bay unless someone else has a disabled permit. If they do, then we can talk and work something out about sharing the car space.”

Security: “You keep parking there and we’ll tow your car. We’ve blocked it off for her use only.”

Me: “Let’s see how well that goes when I get the police involved for illegally towing a disabled person’s car. Just block off one of the regular bays if you really have to!”

Security: “No. We’ve chosen this one. You need to park elsewhere.”

Me: “Up yours!”

(Yeah, kind of lost my temper at the end there. I’m not paying the fine, and I will raise absolute chaos if anything happens to my car. We’ll see how this goes.)


Cause For Pregnant Pause, Part 19

Cause For Pregnant Pause, Part 18

Cause For Pregnant Pause, Part 17

Pawn Shop Prices Are A Steal But The Stock Isn’t

, , , , | Legal Right | December 4, 2018

(Our particular location is in one of the poorest cities in the US, so we act as more of a pawn shop. Our store takes trades on iPads, iPhones, etc. On a pretty slow day, a young couple comes in:)

Male Customer: “Hey, I wanted to trade some of my stuff for cash. Y’all do that here?”

Me: *motioning toward the cases of used iPhones, iPads, and iPods behind me* “Yes, sir. What do you have for me today?”

Female Customer: “He got a bunch of phones.”

(The man puts a garbage bag on the counter and dumps it out, revealing what has to be about 25-30 phones. Some of them are flip-phones, a few are Apple products, and others seem to be low-end smartphones. We can only take Apple products, so I make two piles; one with iPhones, and the other phones in a separate pile.)

Me: *pointing to the six iPhones in a pile* “I can only trade these phones today, because we can only take Apple products, but check back with us in a month or so and we might be able to trade the others then. Also, I can only trade one phone per transaction. Were you trading these for store credit or for cash today? You’ll always get more store credit than cash.”

Male Customer: “Um…”

Female Customer: “He don’t play video games no more! And you mean you gotta ring each one, one-at-a-time?!”

Me: “Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry, but it’s store policy. I have to make a copy of the driver’s license or state ID of the person trading it each time for our records. So each phone has its own transaction.”

Male Customer: “You gotta have an ID to trade this s***?! That’s f****** stupid, man!”

Me: “Well, that’s actually state law, sir. Whenever you trade an item that can be insured, you have to show identification in case the property is reported stolen or missing. Phones can be insured. And our store policy states that if we trade anything for cash, an ID copy is required. Do you not have an ID?”

Male Customer: *to his girlfriend* “Babe, just use your ID. You know I can’t use mine.”

Female Customer: “H***, naw! I ain’t puttin’ my info in his system for your stolen-a** phones!”

Me: “Excuse me, did you just say these were stolen phones?”

(They both look at each other and back at me. In unison, they both say, “No, no, no. We bought them from my brother in New York, and they were stolen at one time, but the cases were dismissed.)

Me: “I can’t take these, then.”

Male Customer: “C’mon, man, don’t be a b****. Just ring ’em up; why’s it matter what they are?”

Me: “Because if they’re stolen then I’ve given you money for something that will be seized by the police when they come in this week to pick up our ID copies and serial numbers of the phones we traded. So [Store] would have paid…” *I look down at the phones and guess their total value* “…[total], for absolutely zero inventory. That’s why.”

Female Customer: “I told you, fool!”

Male Customer: *putting all of the phones back in his garbage bag* “Man, f*** this place! This is some bull-s***!”

(They then stormed out of the store and got in their car, of which I could see the license plate from the front windows. I wrote down the plate number and called the police, because I know how much it can suck to have your phone stolen. They were arrested at another location of the same company I worked for that same day, trying to trade in the same phones.)

Unfiltered Story #119685

, , | Unfiltered | September 8, 2018

I have recently started a weekend job, working in a supermarket, performing whatever useful jobs I am tasked with, while I complete my A-levels at grammar school.

One day this couple approach me while I’m restocking some shelves. Both of them are fat. He has a beard, and is wearing open toed sandals, an ill-fitting T-shirt and tatty “cargo pants”. She’s curled her hair and dyed it purple, and is dressed just as scruffily as he is. They have a trolley loaded with unhealthy, pre-cooked meals which you just shove into the oven, and eat in front of the television, no doubt.

Man: “Excuse me, can you tell me where the plawn clackers are?”

Me: “I beg your pardon?”

Man: “Plawn clackers. To go with our flied lice.”

Woman: “He means prawn crackers! He’s being silly.”

Me: “Yes I know what he meant. We have a zero tolerance policy towards racism, and I’m afraid I can’t help you. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Man: “Seriously? Oh come on …”

Me: “Seriously. Please leave. We don’t cater for people like you. Leave now, before I call security.

The couple looked at each other, then he shrugged, and they both walked off, hand in hand, leaving their trolley behind.

Unfortunately, when I told my manager what had happened, he was in a very grumpy mood, and did not seem to be all that pleased. I was then tasked with the job of putting everything back on the shelves.

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