No Underage Understanding, Part 2

| IL, USA | Working | July 21, 2017

(I’m the guilty party in this story. Our restaurant has a fairly loose policy with checking IDs. If they look 40 or under, we card, but I’m terrible with guessing ages. Two women sit down at a table. They’re both obviously over 21, one roughly in their 30s and the other in her 40s, or so I think. One looks much younger than the other, so when I take their orders I only ask one for ID.)

Customer #1: “I’ll have a Bud Light.”

Customer #2: “I’ll have the same.”

Me: *to [Customer #1]* “Okay, I just need to check your ID.”

Customer #1: *stares at me and rolls eyes, but starts to pull her ID out anyway, turning to her friend* “Ugh. Every. Time. I don’t look THAT young.”

Me: *I see this and am feeling embarrassed* “I’m sorry, I know. You’re obviously over 21.” *she shoots me another look and I feel even worse* “No, I mean.. uh… sorry! I just mean you don’t look like a child… erm… You look under forty, so we have to card anyone under forty to make sure. I mean, you could take it as a compliment… I’m sorry. I don’t mean… I’m going to go get your drinks now.”

Customer #2: *laughs* “That’s okay. It’s just a sore subject for her. She’s fine. You’re just doing your job!”

(Customer #1 however, still doesn’t look like she’s pleased.)

Customer #1: *grumbling more to herself than anything* “I’ve been over 40 for three years now…”

(I felt terrible about it for the rest of the night and learned my lesson — just card everyone at the table next time! Luckily after that, someone else served an underage kid alcohol with an officer present, so we had to start carding EVERYONE that didn’t look like they were ready to retire. Then I had an extra good excuse.)

No Underage Understanding

Shifting Away From A Decent Human Being

, | St. Thomas, ON, Canada | Working | July 20, 2017

(My grandmother had gone into the hospital at Christmas time and in early January we get the news that she has late-stage pancreatic cancer, and probably only has a few months to live. On my next shift, I go to talk to the general manager about it.)

Me: “I just found out that my grandmother has cancer. She’s in the hospital and they’re saying that she probably won’t have more than a few months. When that happens, what do I do about time off to grieve and go to the funeral?”

General Manager: “I’m sorry to hear that. The government does mandate bereavement leave, but only to immediate family members, so a grandparent wouldn’t count. But don’t worry, [My Name], when the time comes, come to me and I’ll help you get the shifts covered so you can have the time you need.”

Me: “Thanks, [General Manager]. I really appreciate it.”

(Fast forward to late March, and I get a terrible voicemail from my father asking me to call him back. I can tell he’s upset, and I just know that she’s gone. I leave one for him, but in case that’s not the problem, I head to work. I’m doing my best, but half my mind is on that voicemail, so I’m really not doing a great job at getting the store opened. Ten minutes after the doors open, my boyfriend comes in and he doesn’t even need to say anything. While he’s consoling me, I can hear the shift manager switching my till out with someone else’s and counting it off for me, and telling my boyfriend to take me home. I have a day off in between, so when I come in:)

Me: “Hi, [General Manager]. I assume you heard from [Shift Manager] that my grandmother passed away the day before yesterday.”

General Manager: “Yes, I heard she sent you home and covered your shift. She shouldn’t have had to do that. That is your responsibility.”

Me: *somewhat taken aback* “Yes, under normal circumstances, but the death of a family member can hardly be called normal circumstances. Either way, I came to ask for the help you promised me to find a replacement my shift for the day of the funeral, which is [date].”

General Manager: “But my stag do is this week. I don’t have time to be calling around for you; you’ll just have to do it yourself.”

Me: *speechless*

General Manager: “Oh, and I have a write up here for you leaving early the other day. It is not our responsibility to fill your shifts; you need to do that yourself. You’ll have to sign it.”

Me: *finally finding the power of speech* “Nope, not signing that. I refuse to sign a document that says I was in the wrong for having to take the time to grieve for my grandmother. And you’re seriously not going to fill my shift for me? Considering how understaffed we are, who am I going to find to replace it?”

General Manager: “Not my problem. And if you don’t sign it, I’ll have to take it up with [Owner]. We may have to let you go if you’re going to be insubordinate.”

Me: *balls up fists and walks away*

(I luckily did find some coworkers who were decent enough human beings to take the shift for me, for which I was immensely grateful. The kicker: I looked up bereavement a while later when another family member passed, and grandparents are absolutely included in bereavement policy, so she was required to give me three days off. She did take the write up to the owner, who made her destroy it. I’d like to say it was because he was a decent human being, but sadly I know him better than that. It was because my father was influential in the community, and he had political aspirations. He went on to serve for eight years as our federal representative, to my disgust. A week after my grandma passed, I got my acceptance letter for college and spent the next six months working at that place and silently reminding myself, every time they aggravated me, that my time there was limited by when I started college.)

Definitely In Need Of Some Closing Time

| Pierre, SD, USA | Right | July 20, 2017

(A customer barges through our front door.)

Me: “Hi, how ca—”

Customer: “QUICK! Tell me what year it is!”

Me: “Um… 2014?”

Customer: “My machine worked!”

(He runs out the door repeating “My machine worked!”)

Less Pick Up, More Put Down

, , | Related | July 19, 2017

(I am at dinner with my mum, grandma, and a bunch of my grandma’s good friends and their respective children (and grandchildren). I am the oldest grandchild at 21; there are also a 15-year-old boy, his younger sister, and a 6-year-old girl. My grandma and her friends are around their mid-70s or so. The boy has been talking about ‘pick-up’ lines with his mum and sister, and they ask him to ‘try it out’ on the elderly women for some laughs. Everyone at the table are close and have great senses of humour. Note that while I use the term ‘aunty’ they are not actually related to me; it’s a polite term in this country for anyone older than you by a significant amount of years.)

Boy: *to [Aunty #1]* “Do you have a map? I just got lost in your eyes.”

Aunty #1: *frowns* “Why do you need a map? Don’t you have GPS on your phone?”

(We all laugh, and he tries to explain it to her. She nods but is obviously confused. He turns to the second aunty.)

Boy: “Are you a keyboard? Because you’re my type.”

Aunty #2: *seriously and with a confused expression* “I’m not a typist.”

(Again, we laugh, and he tries to explain it to her.)

Aunty #2: “But I don’t have a typewriter.”

(He sighs and turns to the third aunty, which happens to be my grandmother.)

Boy: “Are you a camera? Because every time I look at you I smile.”

(She nods as though she understands but it’s obvious she has no clue what he’s just said. He tries to explain it.)

Boy: “You know when you look at a camera you have to smile?”

Aunty #2: *interrupting* “Why?”

(He gives up and tries one last time, this time saying it to all three of them.)

Boy: “You’re so sweet, you give my dentures cavities.”

(At the word dentures, despite none of them actually using any, their faces light up in comprehension.)

Aunty #1: “Awww, that’s so sweet.”

Aunty #2: “That’s nice.” *she pauses* “I don’t think dentures can get cavities.”

Aunty #1: “If you have cavities you should probably stop eating sweets.”

(It’s clear that the meaning of this one has also gone over their heads. There is laughter all around and then a pause, during which Aunty #1 pipes up with this gem.)

Aunty #1: “So… these pick-up lines. Do you just use them on your phone, or do you actually talk to people?”

(He gave up and called it a night while the rest of us laughed so hard we cried.)

Holy Guacamole!

| FL, USA | Working | July 17, 2017

Me: “Hi, I would like one turkey and guacamole BLT without the turkey and guacamole, please.”

Employee #1 & Cashier: *gives me a confused look*

Me: *to Cashier* “Just a regular BLT. please.”

Employee #2: “Wait. You said you didn’t want the guacamole, right?”

Me: “Yes.”

Employee #2: “Oh, man, that’s awesome!” *does a little victory dance*

Me: “Why?”

Employee #2: “The guacamole is the hardest part!”

(The rest of the transaction is normal.)

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