Unfiltered Story #113846

, , | | Unfiltered | June 6, 2018

(I work at a paint store. I wasn’t working, but one evening we got a call from a frantic lady saying we needed to tint some product we had never heard of. The only thing that employee said is that we can try it, but we can’t guarantee it.

I hear of this story the next morning when I come in for my shift. The lady calls again a little later and speaks with the assistant manager, who basically tells her the same thing: it’s a product we don’t know, it’s clear so we can’t tint it completely white like she wants, and we cannot guarantee it, even though she wants us to. My assistant manager says we can try it if they bring it in, but is sure to tell her we canNOT guarantee the product will come out the way they want or work the same way. The lady is angry but agrees.

The next day, a man comes in like he owns the place. He demands we tint all of the product he brought, orders us around like we’re his employees, and tries to tell us how to do our jobs. We go out to his car to get the product and find it’s in weird 3.5 gallon buckets, which we cannot tint reliably OR shake in our paint can shakers. We tell him we just can’t do it.)

Entitled man: I cannot BELIEVE you would tell us you would guarantee that this would work. I want your number, your manager’s number, your sales rep’s number, your regional manager’s number, and corporate’s number! You’re going to hear from me again!

(We awkwardly pack all of his product back into his car and he leaves in a huff. The rest of the day is spent in quiet, awkward stress, and randomly shaking our heads going “Geez. People!!”)

Doesn’t Take A Degree To Recognise This Stupidity

, , , , | Right | May 4, 2018

(In this case, I am a customer in line. As I wait for my turn, I see this play out.)

Customer: “Can I have a [burger] with extra pickles, mustard, mayo, and cheese?”

Cashier: “Sure, let me ring that up for you.”

Customer: *turns to friend* “Man, it is just sad that people have to work at places like this. I can’t understand why they don’t just go to college!”

Customer’s Friend: “But you never went to college.”

(After this, the customer didn’t say another word until they sat down.)

Paying Bills Is A Resident Evil

, , , , , | Working | April 18, 2018

(I apply to rent an apartment, only to realize a few hours later that I foolishly based my ability to pay rent on my total income rather than how much I have left after paying my bills, meaning the apartments are actually around two hundred dollars out of my price range. The complex’s website lacks any contact information aside from the application, and I have no intention of making a half-hour drive just to say “my bad,” but it’s such a minor issue that I figure I can just tell them what happened when they call, if they call me back at all. They do, and the following conversation takes place.)

Employee: “Hi, we’re calling to let you know that you’ve been approved as a potential resident. Can you come in for an interview on this date?”

Me: “Actually, I calculated my funds wrong, so I can’t afford your apartments after all. Sorry.”

Employee: “Okay. Are you still interested?”

Me: “No, I can’t afford it.”

Employee: “And why do you say that?”

Me: “Because I have other bills to pay.”

Employee: “I see. Would you care to come in for an interview, anyway?”

Me: *pause* “I would not. Thanks for calling.”

(I have to say I admired her persistence. Her performance, not so much.)

Aging Is A Terabyte Thing

, , , , , | Friendly | January 7, 2018

(I go in to a major retailer to buy a USB flash drive. I pick up the cheapest one and go to checkout. It’s only while the purchase is being rung up that I realize it’s a 16-gigabyte flash drive. I’m 30 years old, and the cashier who’s ringing me up looks to be about 18-ish.)

Me: “Woah, that’s weird.”

Cashier #1: “What?”

Me: “A 16-gig flash drive for seven bucks. I vividly remember when a 512-meg one was like, 30.”

Cashier #1: “I don’t remember that, but I remember when a 2-gig was $7.”

Me: “That was d*** near yesterday!”

Cashier #2: *next to us, who’s my age* “Or when floppy drives were the s***.”

Me: “When I was in elementary school, I was asked to bring in a floppy drive for computer science days. Heck, I remember when you had to put in one floppy to boot the computer up, then pull that out and put in the one for the program you actually wanted to use.”

Cashier #1: “I’ve worked with those! We were doing a ‘history of computers’ unit in school!”

Me: *whimpers a little bit internally* “DOS commands?”

Cashier #1: “Yep, learned those… What?”

Me: *whimpers a little bit externally*

(My fiancé’s reaction when I got home and told him this story? “Yep. Face it, honey: you’re old now.” He’s 29.)

Not Your Typical Psychic-Next-Door

, , , , , | Right | December 17, 2017

(I work in a coffee shop situated on a strip of psychic shops in a downtown “witch city.” It is one of our busiest days.)

Customer: *cutting to the front of the line* “I have a question.”

Me: *continuing to make drinks* “Okay, shoot.”

Customer: “What are the hours of the psychic shop next door?”

(Baffled because the hours of said shop are in enormous white lettering on the shop window, I just look at her.)

Customer: “Well?”

Me: “I’m sorry. I don’t know off the top of my head, but if you—”

Customer: *loudly* “What do you mean you don’t know?”

Me: “I’m s—”

Customer: “HOW CAN YOU WORK NEXT DOOR AND NOT KNOW?!”

Me: *fed up at this point and trying to finish orders and get other people served* “I just don’t! But if you look on the window, I’m sure the hours will be there.”

(The woman starts to storm off.)

Me: *calling after her* “I’m sorry, but I’m not psychic!”

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