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This Will Help You (Tomato) Paste A Smile On Your Face

, , , , | Right | CREDIT: SmalltimeDog | September 26, 2021

I was doing my weekly grocery shop and was in the canned vegetable aisle when I heard a quiet “Excuse me” behind me. I turned around and there was an older woman easily under five feet tall.

Me: “Yes, ma’am? Can I help you?”

Woman: “I can’t find the tomato paste. Can you show me where it is?”

I knew it was two aisles over with the pasta sauce, and I knew it was on the second shelf from the top and that she would never be able to reach it, so I walked her over and grabbed it for her.

Me: “Is there anything else you need help with?”

Woman: “Yes!”

She showed me her list. I proceeded to walk around the store with her and take her to the items she needed. When we were done:

Woman: “I’m going to ask for the manager to tell them how helpful you’ve been and what a kind lad they have on hand!”

Me: “Oh, I don’t work here. I’m just getting my shopping done.”

I had not taken my cart into the aisle with me as I needed a can just a couple of shelves in.

Woman: “Why did you help me shop, then?”

Me: “We all need to help each other. Otherwise, what’s the point?”

When I went to check out, I saw her in the parking lot. She pulled the tomato paste out of her bag and shook it in the air as she waved at me and gave me an ear-to-ear smile. 11/10, would help her shop again.

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Kind Strangers Make It Worth “Working Here” Even When You Don’t

, , , , | Right | CREDIT: Mossemannen | September 25, 2021

I was in a liquor store pacing the aisles for a bottle of adult juice. I like dressing in black: shoes, jeans, leather jacket, and mask, all black. All employees in this store were wearing red/maroon jackets. As I was browsing the shelves, this older woman came over to me and asked in a really soft, but still disappointed tone:

Woman: “You don’t work here, do you?”

Me: “I sure don’t, but can I be of any assistance?”

Woman: “I need a bottle of [Brand] and I can’t find it. Getting old is hard; my eyes aren’t as good as they once were.”

Me: “Of course, I’ll help you. That will be my pleasure.”

I had a look and browsed up and down and side to side, but I couldn’t find it.

Woman: “That’s okay. I really wanted it for my son, but they might not have it in stock; it’s kind of expensive and special.”

Me: “Hold on. I’ll ask someone who actually does work here; they might have a look on their computer and check their stock on it.”

I went over to the till and asked the man sitting comfortably on his chair and asked him. He looked it up.

Employee: “Yes, we have one bottle in stock, but that probably isn’t the one you’re looking for; it is an extra special edition and extra expensive.”

Then, he pointed toward where it should sit on the shelf. He couldn’t leave his till, of course, because of customer flow. I went over to where he pointed and grabbed the bottle and showed it to the sweet old lady and told her what I just had been told. She brightened up.

Woman: *Happily* “That’s exactly what I was looking for!”

Me: “It’s [price].”

Woman: *Nodding* “That sounds about right. Thank you so much! I’m sorry for having to bother you.”

Me: “Actually, this made my day! These days, I hardly talk to anyone, and helping someone as nice as you has been a pleasure.”

Then, we went to the till and paid and went our separate ways. I couldn’t see her smile because of her mask, but I’m sure she had one; I sure did.

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The Moral Of The Story: Never Be Helpful In Public

, , , | Right | CREDIT: chaosqueen73 | September 25, 2021

One day at the local store that I shop at often, I run into a lady who politely asks me if I know where something is. I turn around and point her in the right direction. She thanks me and walks away.

I continue my shopping, and another lady who must’ve overheard our conversation comes up to me and asks me where something else is.

Me: “I’m sorry, but I don’t know what that is. It isn’t something I use or buy.”

Lady: “You should know the products in the store you work at!”

Imagine a redheaded woman wearing a skull mask, black pants, and a maroon shirt. I don’t resemble any of the employees at this store.

Me: “Ma’am, in what world would an employer allow me to wear this getup?”

Still pissy with me, she huffs.

Lady: “Well, you helped that other woman.”

Me: “Yes, ma’am, I did. I knew what she was looking for and knew where she could find it. However, I don’t work here, obviously.”

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Do You Ever Wish You Could Fire A Customer?

, , , | Right | CREDIT: redheadactress | September 24, 2021

I work in a furniture store as the office manager. A woman recently placed an order with us that is over $12,000. She is moving into a new home, but it won’t be ready until September at the earliest. She didn’t have the address at the time of purchase but knew the area was close to her mother’s house, so we used her mother’s address for a place filler. That’s fine; we can hold the items up to a year, and as long as the new address is on the same route, we can change it fairly easy. Her mother has been a customer of ours before and has always been known for being a little crazy. The salesperson put both of them under the same account. Ugh.

One day, I get a call from the mother. We are exchanging a table base for her. She starts yelling at me.

Mother: “Your delivery drivers won’t pick up my table base because someone at your company is a moron. Why the h*** would you send a separate truck to pick up? D*** it, I just want to be done with your company!”

Me: “Okay, let me lo—”

Mother: “Is anyone there competent at all?”

OH, H*** NO!

Me: “Let me see what is going on, then.”

I look up her account and see that my boss put it on the delivery for her daughter.

Me: “Okay, let me reach out to distribution and—”

Mother: “D*** IT, I AM DONE WITH YOU G**D*** COMPANY! I DO NOT WANT THEM HERE ANYMORE…”

She proceeds to go on and on.

Me: “Ma’am, the longer you keep me on the phone, the longer it is going to take me to resolve the issue.”

Mother: “AND ANOTHER THING! WHY THE H*** ARE YOU DELIVERING MY DAUGHTER’S FURNITURE TO MY HOUSE IN JUNE?! I DON’T WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN! CHANGE THE D*** ADDRESS. MY GOD, YOU ARE INCOMPETENT! SHE’S NOT EVEN CLOSING UNTIL SEPTEMBER!”

Me: “At the time of purchase, your daughter didn’t have an address, so we used yours. Second, we can only schedule out three months in advance. The system prevents that. Third, the table base will be picked up today, but only if I can get off the phone with you and call distribution.”

Mother: “UGH… FIIIINE! JUST AS LONG AS I DON’T HAVE TO SEE YOUR TRUCKS AGAIN! YOU KNOW, THIS IS THE FOURTH TIME THEY HAVE DELIVERED THIS JUNK! I HOPE MY DAUGHTER DOESN’T HAVE THE SAME ISSUE I DID! UGH!”

Me: “I’ll call you back.”

I hang up and get on the phone with distribution; they pick up the base. I call the mother again to tell her.

Mother: “They already left, okay?” *Hangs up*

Me: “Okay…”

The next day, the daughter calls. I brace myself, but I never expected this.

Daughter: “My name is [Daughter] and my father’s wife called the other day and then texted me all freaked out about a delivery that’s going to her house in June.”

I start mentally beating my head against the wall.

Me: “Ah, yes. I informed your mother — sorry, your dad’s wife — that we are only able to schedule things three months out at a time. The system literally will not let us schedule any further. I also informed your mom at the time — or your father’s wife — that at the time you purchased you never provided us an address so we just used hers.”

Daughter: “Ah! Okay, that makes much more sense.”

She gives me the information I need, I change it, and everything is good.

Me: “All right, we are good to go now. And the reason we are scheduling a date and pushing it out is that the supplies and the merchandise are being delayed significantly due to the health crisis; we are holding any items that we can to make sure that by the time you do need them, you will have them. I know that you are not closing until September, so we will keep pushing the date back until September, and we’ll check in with you then.”

Daughter: “Thank you very much. I am so sorry about my dad’s wife. She’s a batty nut job. She drives me nuts. She’s been married to my dad since I was ten and she and I have had our issues over the years.”

She goes on for another fifteen minutes. A customer approaches the desk, thank God.

Me: “I am sorry to cut you off, but I do have another client I need to assist. I am glad we could get that taken care of.”

Daughter: “Thank you, [My Name]. And don’t pay attention to what that crazy woman says. There was nothing wrong with the other tables; she’s just insane.”

She hung up, and all I could do was laugh.

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A Berry Amusing Way To Deal With An Awkward Situation

, , , , , , | Right | CREDIT: Publandlady | September 24, 2021

For my family friend’s sixteenth birthday, we went to see Alfred Ellis play at an open garden concert. It was a casual picnic-style affair, but due to certain members of the five families being extremely culinary, it turned into a buffet, to the point that we needed tables, which we brought. During the first intermission, the ten teenagers were ready to descend on the food like wild animals, but we were raised better than our instincts, so we each grabbed a plate and lined up.

We then realised that we had a longer line than expected. About thirty people had lined up behind us. The sweet little old lady behind me asked where the till was, so we had to explain to people that it was a private meal for someone’s birthday.

Most were very understanding — and were given a plate of what we had not touched later — but one woman decided that, because we had set it up the way we had, we were wait staff, we were liars, and we would be comping her food for the trauma she had suffered. We were middle-class white kids in Somerset in the early 2000s. You could not get sadder or more diverse in clothing. We did not look like waitstaff. If she had called us vagrants, hippies, or gangsters, she may have been closer.

During her rant, a strawberry landed on her hat. She didn’t notice. But we sure did. So now she had something to scream about, as we were laughing at her FOR NO REASON, HOWDAREWEVERYMUCH! Then, another strawberry hit her, hard enough for her to notice. She looked up and a raspberry got her in the chin.

Unfortunately for her, the emotional infants of the group — two of the dads, mine included — had decided that the pile of strawberries and raspberries for pudding could be sacrificed in order to put her in her place. It took a few tries for her to get it, but every time she opened her maw to carry on, they would chuck a strawberry at her. She left when we all moved to join in.

The best part was when we spotted her far away, over-gesturing at what was clearly a manager. He gave the excellent response of a “What do you expect me to do about it?” shrug. He didn’t come over.

I also got to meet Alfred Ellis when he became a doctorate at my university some years later. My friend was extremely jealous.

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