Putting The “Cock” Into Cocktail

, , , , , | Right | December 19, 2019

(I’m 19 and this is my first job in a bar. I’m competent and friendly but I struggle sometimes with complicated drinks or orders, meaning I go a little slower. This customer in question has been making nasty comments about me all evening, refusing to let anyone else serve him, and demanding complicated cocktails whilst berating my speed.)

Customer: “Given the last screw up, just get me a f****** Guinness.”

Me: “Sure.” *starts pouring*

Customer: *smirking* “If there’s no clover, you’ll be wearing it! It’s a lucky clover for a lucky guy!”

Me: “Let’s see what I can do.”

(I hand over his drink; cue spluttering and outrage.)

Customer: “How dare you?! I’ll have your f****** job! Don’t you know who I am?!”

Me: “Well, yes, that’s why I drew you a [man’s private region], as you said lucky clover for a lucky guy, or a d**k for a d**k-head.”

(My coworkers and the rest of those at the bar laughed so hard, the customer turned bright red and stormed off. He didn’t pay for his Guinness, but on a positive note, he never came back when I was on shift, either! And no, I wasn’t fired; my boss laughed and gave me a Guinness pint glass as a memento. It’s been eleven years and I still have it.)

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No Pants, No Job!

, , , , , , | Working | December 18, 2019

Our call center has a posted, albeit relaxed dress code. We are encouraged to wear “business casual” attire during the week, although we are allowed T-shirts. One girl has decided to come in wearing a button-up shirt called “a boyfriend shirt.” It is essentially an oversized button-up shirt with a cinched waist. She also has neglected to wear pants with it, claiming it’s actually a dress, despite the fact that it barely covers her butt and exposes her underwear on the side when she sits.

After getting numerous complaints, our site director insists that she put on pants or go home. She comes back with bicycle shorts under the dress… until about six pm when the managers leave, at which time she takes them off. I can’t say for sure if she is fired or quits, but the next day she is arguing with management in the office and she’s gone by week’s end.

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We Know What He Likes More Than He Does  

, , , , | Right | December 16, 2019

(I work at a sex shop in Israel. In Israel, the word “gay” as a synonym to “homosexual” hasn’t sunk in among the elderly. An elderly customer walks in looking for a DVD. I see he has picked up a gay film.)

Me: “Erm, sir, this is a gay film.”

Elderly Customer: “What’s a gay film?”

Me: “Homosexuals, you know.”

Elderly Customer: “Well, I’ll give it a shot.”

Me: “Are you sure, sir?”

(He starts to get agitated.)

Elderly Customer: “Sure! I know what I like! You think you know me better than me?!”

Me: “All right, sir, whatever you’d like.”

(The next day, I see him again.)

Elderly Customer: “What the f*** is wrong with this film? There are only men in it!”

(How he missed that, considering the very detailed cover, is beyond me.)

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The Wrongest Number Got You

, , , , | Right | December 13, 2019

(I spend several years taking in-bound calls for infomercials. Every day is an adventure. We have a lot of people who write an infomercial phone number down at two in the morning and the next day can’t remember what the product was.)

Me: “This is [My Name]. How may I help you?”

Caller: “What the… Who the h*** is this?”

Me: “This is [My Name]; how may I help you?”

Caller: “Uh, what number did I call…?”

Me: “Well, I’m not sure. There are several thousand possibilities of products that lead to my phone; were you watching something on TV?”

Caller: “Well, yeah, but isn’t this where the ‘me so horny’ girls call you back?”

Me: “Uh… No! We take orders off of infomercials you see on TV. You must have written it down wrong.”

Caller: “F***! That just ruined my whole morning.” *click*

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Children Should Know The Condom-Minimum

, , , , , , | Working | December 13, 2019

(I am on summer vacation in Southern Italy to visit family and go to the beach. One day, two of my aunts entrust me with three cousins to go visit the nearby city. After a long day spent visiting a few attractions and window shopping, we are about to head home, but the youngest cousin really wants some soda, so I decide to stop at a tiny convenience store to buy him his drink, as well as a few things for me. As I pick up the items, the other two cousins, a boy and a girl of roughly the same age, patiently wait for me at the checkout. The cashier notices that their eyes have been attracted by a small rack of condoms. Note that my cousins are nine or ten years old at the time.)

Cashier: *in a sweet voice* “Oh, looking at those pretty boxes, eh? But do you know what are they for?”

Female Cousin: *proudly* “Of course! They’re for when you don’t want babies!”

Male Cousin: “Or if you want to prevent AIDS.”

(The cashier’s face crumpled up like a used tissue as she recoiled, before raising her head to shoot daggers at me, just as I’m putting down my things.)

Me: “All right, [Female Cousin] and [Male Cousin], you get back to the car with [Younger Cousin]; I’m going to come soon.”

Male Cousin: “Roger!”

(As [Female Cousin] takes [Younger Cousin]’s hand and follows [Male Cousin] speeding off to the car, I start bagging things. The cashier is glaring at me.)

Cashier: “Are they your children?”

Me: “No, I’m their cousin. Why do you ask?”

Cashier: *grimacing* “Ugh, their parents must be really f****** revolting; kids shouldn’t know what a condom is.”

Me: “As long as they don’t get first-hand experience… why not?”

Cashier: “Oh, so you think there’s nothing wrong with children screwing? Is that what you’re telling me, you disgusting piece of trash?”

Me: *taken aback* “I don’t know what the f*** you are trying to say. I just said that nothing’s wrong with children knowing what a condom is.”

Cashier: “If they know what a condom is and what it’s for, they know how to use it. How can you think it’s not sick that their parents taught them how to put condoms on?”

Me: “Look. I don’t have time for this. They just said what a condom is, not how to use it. Now let me just pay for this before I lose my s***.”

(The cashier grumbled loudly about my uncles being “disgusting child rapists” and blatantly did the “I’m watching you” gesture at me as I left the store. Nothing came out of it, and I sincerely doubt anyone at the police station gave her the time of day, assuming she even cared enough.)

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