Seriously Stupid Administration

, , , , , , | Working | March 30, 2020

I was 21 when my Grandma died. I’d watched her slowly decline over the preceding two years, so I was not “grieving” publicly, which allowed me to keep my head.

My grandma, being the stubborn woman she was, had to die at 11:00 pm on a Friday. She wanted to be cremated, and this was about four or five days from the end of the month. By the time the cremation was done and we finally had the death certificate, her last Social Security payment had gone through.

Before her mind had gone too much, I’d had her put me on her bank account, as she lived with me and my dad and uncle, her two oldest sons. This made it easier if we needed something from the store with her card. On the first available day after we got the death certificate, I went to close out her account.

I was told that they were waiting for the SSA to pull the money, and I had to take them the death certificate, as it wasn’t our money.

I spent three months driving between my house, her bank, and the SSA across town before they pulled the money and I could get the last five dollars out of her account to close it.

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Could Be Worse; You Could Be Bronze

, , , , , | Related | March 22, 2020

(I’m on the phone with my nana, and we are discussing a cat that I recently lost to renal failure.)

Me: “She was my soulmate, my gold star.”

Nana: “Huh.” 

Me: “Don’t worry; you’re my silver star.”

Nana: “Oh, thanks. I fall behind a cat.” 

Me: *laughs*

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I Yam Dead

, , , , , , , | Related | March 2, 2020

(My dear grandfather has died quietly in his sleep of old age. We are hosting a wake for a whole week in my grandparents’ home, hosted by my grandmother. Local custom states that we have an open casket in the living room, which was a bit unnerving at first, but we get used to it. Despite protests from family members, my grandmother insists on being an impeccable host, cooking and serving drinks and snacks to my many, MANY aunts, uncles, cousins, and over a dozen great-grandchildren. I have just been served a homemade local dessert — Ube Roll — as I am chatting with my cousins.)

Me: *takes a bite* “Hmm. I think something is off with this roll.”

Cousin #1: “Yeah, it’s hard as a rock!”

Cousin #2: “I think she might have left it out too long and it’s gone stale.”

Cousin #3: “And it’s really heavy! Did she actually make it with rocks?”

Me: “I can’t eat this.”

(The dessert really is bad; it is basically a paperweight.)

Cousin #1: “Me, neither.”

(We all look around at the many relatives struggling with their “rock cakes.” A few have discretely tried to leave the room with their dessert to “eat it outside,” but Grandmother is keeping a vigil on everyone. Disposal is going to be tricky.)

Cousin #1: “Poor [Grandmother]. She’s been through enough without spending the next few weeks finding half-eaten stale ube roll wedged behind cupboards and hidden in drawers all around the house.”

Cousin #2: “Wait a minute. [Grandmother] served all the great-grandkids first, and they all had empty plates when they ran outside to play. They couldn’t have eaten them, could they? They must have stashed them.”

Me: “But where? I can’t see where.”

(We look around for a while to see if we can find any cleverly-hidden half-eaten cakes but to no avail.)

Cousin #1: “Where could the little idiots have put them? There’s no way they ate them!”

Cousin #3: “Unless…”

(All of us look over towards the open coffin.)

Me: “Oh, no…”

(We slowly approach Grandfather with trepidation. Being the closest, I am silently volunteered to “pay my respects” one more time. I bend down and check the lower half of the coffin, which is closed. I turn back towards my cousins.)

Me: “Well, let’s just say that if Grandfather is accidentally buried alive, he won’t go hungry for a while…”

Cousin #1: “You mean those little b*****ds stuffed their cakes into poor Grandfather’s coffin?!”

Cousin #2: “No wonder all the kids wanted to pay their respects to Grandfather for so long! I was surprised that kids that young would be so thoughtful!”

(Luckily, we were able to remove the evidence without Grandmother noticing. One of us took her upstairs to “reminisce” while the rest of us collected the alarmingly heavy cakes from all the relatives and threw them out without her noticing. Wouldn’t have wanted to see what would have happened had the stash been discovered later on by poor Grandmother!)

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Mothers Die, But Oedipus Complexes Live On

, , , , | Right | February 25, 2020

I work at a housing company. We have over 50,000 houses, so it happens once in a while: tenants die on us.

Me:
“Good morning, this is [My Name]. How can I help you?”

The caller is an adult male.

Caller:
“My mother died.”

Me:
“I am so sorry to hear that, sir, my condolences. What can I do for you?”

Caller:
“I want to cancel her contract.”

Me:
“Of course, sir, let me pull up her contract and help you. What was her name?”

Caller:
“Mom.”

Me:
“Yes, but I mean her name on the contract.”

Caller:
“Mom.”

Me:
“I see… and where did she live; what was her home address?”

Caller:
“[Address].”

Me:
“Thank you. I see that the contract was under the name of Mrs. [Tenant], is that correct?”

Caller:
“Yes, but that was not her name.”

Me:
“I have the wrong address?”

Caller:
“No, it’s right… but her name was Mom! I keep on telling you that!”

Me:
“All right, I understand now. Now, to cancel her contract I need a [form] and a death certificate. Could you send that to me?”

Caller:
“Yes, but they listed the wrong name!”

I have a feeling where this is heading.

Me:
“Did they list [Tenant] as a name?”

Caller:
*Sounding upset* “Yes!”

Me:
“That is exactly the one I need. Please send it to me and we’ll cancel your mother’s contract for you.”

This issue gets dealt with and the contract ends nicely for both us and her son. I think this situation is an exception and think nothing about it. However, two weeks later, I get a call from another adult male:

Other Caller:
“I want to cancel my mother’s contract because she died.”

Me:
“I’m so sorry to hear that, sir. What was her name?”

Other Caller:
“Mom, her name was Mom.”

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Cat People (Putting Out Crazy Customers)

, , , , , | Right | February 14, 2020

(This occurs shortly after David Bowie’s passing. We are playing his music over the speakers. A woman comes in and heads straight for the checkout.)

Me: “Hello! How can I help you?” 

Customer: “Turn that music off.”

Me: “Oh, is it not to your liking?” 

Customer: “It upsets the cats.”

Me: *looking around* “Cats? We only allow guide dogs in the store. You’ll have to leave if you have cats with you.”

Customer: “They’re at home.”

Me: “They aren’t with you?” 

Customer: “No.” 

Me: “How can they hear the music if they aren’t here, then?”

Customer: *narrows her eyes* “If my cats are upset when I get home, I’m complaining!”

(With that, she left. An hour before closing we did get a call from her. The manager listened to her for half a minute before bursting out laughing saying he hadn’t heard that one before, and he hung up. We haven’t heard anything from her or her cats since.)

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