Spells Something Else Entirely

, , , , , | | Right | May 19, 2018

(I’m the customer in this story. I’ve just seen my doctor for the first time, and she’s sent down a prescription for me to the pharmacy downstairs. I make it up to the window, and there are a ton of people down there, so it’s a little noisy.)

Clerk: “It looks like your prescription isn’t ready yet, but I’m going to write down your name so we can call you when it’s ready. Can you give me your name?”

Me: *gives name*

Clerk: “And who’s your doctor?”

Me: “Dr. Fu.”

Clerk: “Sorry, it’s a little loud, I didn’t quite hear that. Can you spell your doctor’s name for me?”

Me: “Sure. It’s F-U.” *pause* “Oh, my God, that’s not what I meant!”

Clerk: *laughs*

They Can’t Keep Pace With The World

, , , , | Right | April 23, 2018

(I answer phones to take sales and have a greeting I use every time I answer without ever having any issues, until I answer this creepy call:)

Me: “Hello, thank you for calling [Company]. My name is [My Name]. How may I h—”

Customer: “Wow, that was too fast. You need to speak slower. All I heard was [unintelligible gibberish sounds]. Say your name, the one your lovely mother gave you when you were just a little baby being born, and say it slowly rather than just throwing it out of your mouth like you’re ashamed of it. Be proud of your name. My name is [Customer], and I’m here in lovely little downtown [City] in Utah, and it’s soooo lovely out here. Now, what is your name? And say it slowly this time, not just letting it fall off your tongue. Now, try that all again, child.”

Ultrasound Taking Ultra Long

, , , , , | Healthy | April 17, 2018

(I am 37 weeks pregnant and am having an ultrasound on my baby to monitor his kidneys, which are enlarged, but otherwise healthy. A very nice student tech is doing the ultrasound under the watchful eye of the attending OB/GYN and the supervising tech, who are viewing the video in the next room. The student is being very careful and thorough, trying to get good pictures of every structure, and is taking a LONG time. Finally, the supervising ultrasound tech comes in, cackling, and addresses the student.)

Supervisor: “Dr. [OB] says if you keep her in here much longer, she’s going to have to deliver her right on this table.”

(She wasn’t too far off; I went into labor shortly afterward!)

Giving New Meaning To The Graveyard Shift

, , , , , , , | Working | March 26, 2018

This incident took place in 1973. I was employed at the time as an answering service operator in a small answering service located in the downtown area. I was also attending the local university, and this job fit in well, because I could work swing and graveyard shifts. This incident took place on a Sunday, early in the morning.

The answering service I worked at had two units in a small office building on the first floor: the answering service office, and behind it, the switchboard room. We had four PBX work stations, each station with 80 accounts. The switchboard room was situated at the back of the building and faced a narrow alley. Outside the switchboard room, at the end of the hallway, was a back door that led to the alley. On weekends and after hours — 6:00 pm to 8:00 am — this was the only way to enter or exit work.

On this Sunday, I was the day shift relief for the graveyard operator. I was working overtime that Sunday. Part of the “benefit” for working overtime on a Sunday was that the covered parking — only four spaces — in the alley was available.

I parked my car in the covered parking, and then walked over to the back door and knocked to let the graveyard operator know that I was there to relieve her.

I knocked for one minute. No answer. I moved away from the door and stepped to the left a few paces. There was a “transom” window set high in the back wall of the switchboard room, and it was open. So, I yelled out that I was back there, waiting to be let in.

No answer.

I went and got my car, and parked alongside the back wall. Then, I climbed onto the trunk, and then up onto the hood. I could just barely see into the switchboard room. There was no one inside. I yelled some more and then climbed back down and honked my car horn

Now I was very concerned. I drove over to the nearest payphone down the block (no cell phones in those days), as I had the phone number for the office manager. I explained what was going on. I told her I was going to call the police, and she said was going to contact the owner of the building to have someone respond with a key.

The police showed up. If I remember correctly, they had the fire department make entry into the building. Around the corner from the answering service office was the first floor bathroom. My coworker was found inside, passed out from an overdose, with her baby inside the stroller next to her.

Fortunately, she survived the overdose, but she was immediately fired. She was only 19 or 20 and had taken the job because she would be working graveyard, and could have her baby with her.

Rated R(iech)

, , , , | Right | March 24, 2018

(A new policy has been in effect for only a couple weeks about children under six years old not being allowed in rated-R movies. A lot of people don’t know the policy. Corporate had us put up a small sign alerting customers to the new rule.)

Me: “Hi there! What can I do for you today?”

Customer: “Hello. I’d like 11 tickets to [R-rated movie], please.”

(I spot a small child in his group.)

Me: “Okay, sir. How old is your little one?”

Customer: “He’s five.”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but children six and under aren’t allowed in rated-R movies.”

Customer: “Oh, it’s okay; he’ll be with me.”

Me: “I understand, but he’s still not allowed in.”

Customer: *angry* “That’s ridiculous! I’m his father, and I decide what he can see! He’s six.”

Me: “I’m sorry?”

Customer: “He’s not five; he’s six. I forgot he had a birthday recently.”

Me: “The policy is that those six and under aren’t permitted. I’m sorry, sir, but no.”

(He comes inside. My co-assistant manager is next to me; I am also an assistant manager. My coworker has heard the whole conversation.)

Customer: “I want to talk to your manager now!”

Me: “I’m an assistant manager, and so is she.”

Customer: *to my coworker* “Why can’t my child see this movie?!”

Coworker: “As she has stated, the policy states that children under six can’t see R-rated movies. I’m sorry, but we don’t make the rules; we simply enforce them from corporate.”

Customer: *now yelling* “You guys are Nazis! You are just like the townspeople who did nothing when Nazis were burning bodies!”

Coworker: “I’m not listening to this.” *walks away*

Me: “Sir, please don’t call us Nazis.”

Customer: “That’s what you are! I want your names, and the corporate phone number! This is outrageous!”

Me: “No problem.” *hands him paper with all the info asked for* “Again, please don’t call us Nazis.”

(He left and never contacted corporate.)

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