You’ll Pay For That Holiday

| Sydney, NSW, Australia | Working | June 11, 2014

(I work for a store manager who never lets me have time off, even though her friends get all the time off they want. We get a new store manager who has a crack down on unused vacation time. I have almost three months owing to me. We get told that if we don’t start using the time up that they will simply order us to take month off with no notice. I put in for four weeks off, two weeks so I could look after my children on their school break, and two weeks to get neglected things done and a little time just for me. My husband has only recently started a new job after two years unemployment, so I cannot afford to go away. I get back to work and get asked what I did.)

Me: “Oh, nothing much. Just stayed home. Took the kids out a couple of times.”

(The next day store manager comes up to me at the end of day.)

Store Manager: “I’ve spoken to head office about you. In future if you are only ‘just going to stay home’ on your holidays you cannot take four weeks off. You can only take four weeks off if you are going overseas, or something like that.”

(I am so livid that I cannot even answer her. My coworker has overheard.)

Coworker: “Did you just get into trouble for not going away on your holidays?”

Me: “Yes. I am so angry! I can’t believe that they think they can dictate what I do on my holidays. I’m handing my resignation in tomorrow.”

(I give two weeks notice and after leaving I notice I haven’t been paid my severance pay. I call up and speak to my department manager about it.)

Department Manager: “I spoke to [Store Manager]. She didn’t submit your resignation to head office because she thought you were joking.”

Me:  “Well, the past week that I haven’t turned up should have told her that I wasn’t.”

Department Manager: “You realise that if you don’t get paid out before Friday that the company has to pay you extra money? Just leave it at that. Serves her right for treating you like that.”

(My pay came through at 11.45 pm on the Thursday night. I bet someone in head office wasn’t too happy with having to work late to pay me.)

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Taking A Swipe At Common Sense

| PA, USA | Right | June 10, 2014

(I am working as a cashier during Easter weekend at a popular retail shop. I have a long line but am getting people rung out quickly. A customer in her early 30s is next in line.)

Me: “Hi, how are you doing today?”

(The customer puts her items on the belt, and doesn’t say a word to me.)

Me: *rings up her order* “Okay, that will be [total].”

Customer: *swipes her card very fast* “Why isn’t this working?!”

(She swipes the card back and forth quickly. All the while the machine beeps to inform us that it cannot read her card, because she is swiping it too fast.)

Me: “Oh, you need to swipe it slower so the machine can read your card.”

Customer: “Oh.” *continues swiping too fast, back and forth* “Your machine is broken! It won’t accept my card!”

Me: “You just need to swipe it a little slower.”

Customer: “I AM SWIPING IT! YOUR STUPID MACHINE WON’T TAKE MY CARD!”

(She proceeds to keep swiping it back and forth just as fast as before and is getting a bit rough with the machine.)

Customer: “SEE!? IT WON’T WORK!”

Me: “Would you like me to try and swipe the card back here? Sometimes the front one doesn’t work but mine will.”

Customer: “All right… Wait, you’re the store who got hacked, right?”

(I get asked this a lot. During last year’s Christmas shopping season a bunch of credit and debit cards were hacked. People are still cautious about the security breach.)

Me: “Yes, but we have taken care of the issue and your card is safe to use now.”

Customer: “I don’t want my card hacked.”

Me: “As I said, your card is safe.”

Customer: “I don’t want my information stolen!”

Me: “Yes, I understand, but we took care of the issue. I’ve used my card here plenty of times since it was fixed and no one has stolen money from me.”

Customer: “Well, that is because you are an employee. They wouldn’t steal money from someone who works for them.”

Me: “What?”

Customer: “[Store] wouldn’t steal money from the people who work for them.”

Me: “Oh, no. It wasn’t [Store] that hacked into people’s accounts. It was a hacker.”

Customer: “But I bet you got a huge paycheck during that time when you were stealing money.”

Me: “Yes, my paycheck was bigger but that was only because there were more hours to go around. [Store] didn’t steal any money.”

(My manager comes over to see why I was taking so long.)

Manager: “Is something wrong, [My Name]?”

Customer: “I’m just making sure your employee doesn’t steal my card information. She asked to swipe it in the card reader behind her because the front one isn’t working. I don’t want my information stolen!”

(I explain to my manger why I asked to swipe her card with my card reader and why she thinks I am trying to steal her information.)

Manager: “As my employee said, [Store] didn’t steal anyone’s money. It was a hacker. I myself was a victim of the breach.”

Customer: “But you work here! They couldn’t steal money from you! You’re just lying so you can get away with stealing more people’s money!”

Manager: “I assure you, we are not trying to steal your money.”

Customer: “But your employee is trying to take my card!”

Manager: “Why don’t you try swiping your card again in the front card reader?”

Customer: *swipes her card fast again, then a few more times violently* “See?! It won’t work! Your employee must have broken the machine so she could copy my card information into the database!”

Manager: “Try swiping it a bit slower.”

(My manager motions over the card reader at the right pace. The customer slides her card again and it goes through.)

Customer: “It worked! Thank goodness you were here to prevent your employee from stealing my information!” *looks at me* “All you kids are thieves. I hope you get fired for this!”

Me: “Er… have a nice day.”

(I hands her her bags and she leaves.)

Manager: “Don’t worry. You aren’t going to be fired for her ignorance.”

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Don’t Grow Up To Be A Grown Up

| AB, Canada | Working | June 9, 2014

(We’ve had a really long week of trying to get parts out on time and most of the problems are with the machine I run. While waiting for the machine to reboot for the fifth time that day my boss strikes up a conversation.)

Boss: “What do you want to be when you grow up?”

Me: *thinking he’s just joking as we’re currently working an ideal job for a career and trying to joke in response* “I still don’t know.”

Boss: “What about a unicorn? I want to be a Volkswagon.”

Sorry Doesn’t Seem To Be The Hardest Word

| AK, USA | Right | June 9, 2014

(I’m ringing up a customer and giving her her bags. I forget to give her the light jacket she bought and don’t notice until she drives off. Hoping she’ll come back, I put it next to myself for safe-keeping and keep checking customers. Twenty minutes later, she returns.)

Customer: “Where’s my jacket?!”

Me: “Right here, ma’am.” *I give her back the jacket* “I’m sorry about the inconvenience, I—”

Customer: “You should be ASHAMED of yourself! This is very poor service!”

Me: “I’m very sorry, ma’am—”

Customer: “I had to get out of my car, bring in my things, see my jacket missing, get my walker, get BACK in my car, and drive all the way back here, and it was very difficult! What’s your name? I’m calling corporate about you, and they’re gonna write you up!”

Me: “I’m sorry about—”

Customer: *wry laughter* “Oh, and of course, you never ONCE said sorry!”

Me: “But I, just— I’m very sorry, ma’am.”

Customer: “Oh, yeah, you apologize NOW, after I TELL you to!”

(I return to my line, shaken and a little upset, and continue ringing up the customer I was helping earlier, who witnessed the whole thing.)

Next Customer: “But you said you were sorry FOUR times. I counted!”

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Can’t Get The Transaction To Zip Along

| Mexico City, Mexico | Working | June 8, 2014

(I go to a sewing supply store to get a separating zipper. The store is not self-service; you have to ask for your items at the counter. There are displays on the wall behind the counter with examples of all the items they sell.)

Me: “I’d like a separating zipper, please.”

Clerk: *brings ordinary zipper, the kind joined at the bottom* “Here you are.”

Me: “No, a separating zipper, please.”

Clerk: “This one separates, see?” *pulls tab up and down to show me that it opens and closes*

Me: *points at one of the zippers on the wall behind her* “I meant a zipper like that one.”

Clerk: *turns to her coworker and asks wonderingly* “Do we sell those?”

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