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A Bird-Brained Request

, , , , , | Right | November 24, 2017

(A gentleman storms in angrily through the door.)

Guest: “I am furious! I parked my car under the tree and birds s*** all over it!”

(I almost start laughing but I realize he is serious.)

Me: “I am so sorry, sir.”

Him: “You need to put signs on the trees warning about the birds pooping on cars.”

Me: “Sir, you want us to put signs on every tree warning not to park there because there are pooping birds in the trees?”

Pray They Have The Ability To Change

, , , , , , | Working | September 21, 2017

(I am a supervisor. My employee at the attraction booth is relatively new, but by 2 pm, I’ve been called to assist him six times, once every 30 minutes or so. I end up going to his registrar to troubleshoot a nearby computer and observe the following:)

Guest: “Oh, my change is $0.85? Can I give you a quarter and you give me $0.10 back?”

Employee: “Uh…” *looks to me for assistance*

Me: “Yeah, go ahead, [Employee]; just give them a dime back.”

(He processes the change and opens his drawer. He deposits the quarter, but then stops.)

Customer: *catching on that he is rather slow on the draw* “I just need a dime, dear.”

(Because of regulations, I can’t reach into his change drawer, so I can only give him verbal directions.)

Me: “It’s all right; she just needs a dime.”

(His hand hovers over the coin slots; he looks extremely confused.)

Customer: “Just a dime.”

(He hesitantly reaches for the nickles.)

Me: “No, a dime.”

(He moves his hand down into the pile of five cent pieces, then looks to me for assurance.)

Me: “Not a nickel, a dime.”

(He picks up a nickel, and shows it to me.)

Me: “That’s a nickel; you need a dime.”

(He hands the nickel to the customer, who is trying her best to hold in laughter.)

Me: “Okay, fine; just give her another nickel.”

(He reaches for the dimes this time.)

Me: “No, see she needs another nickel like the one you gave her.”

(He picks up a dime and hands it to her.)

Guest: *stifling laughter* “And I owe you this dear.” *she hands him back his nickel*

Employee: *with the greatest look of confusion upon his face* “Uh, all right, I guess…”

(The guest leaves and [Employee] looks at me.)

Employee: “Hey, [My Name], do you think I’ll be off in my drawer? She gave me her change back.”

(Later that day I went to my manager and told her to either retrain him or never give him another register shift. He was nearly $40 off that day.)

That’s One For The Books

, , , , , | Learning | August 21, 2017

(This happens when I am in fifth grade. At my school, we keep our textbooks in cubbies in the back of the classroom unless we are taking them home to do homework. We also rotate classes with two other classes. My teacher teaches math, and two other teachers teach my class history and science, and we move classrooms. I was out sick one day, and when I come in the next day and go to get my book, my math textbook is no longer in my cubby.)

Me: “[Teacher], my math book isn’t here.”

Teacher: “Are you sure that you didn’t leave it at home?”

Me: “I’m sure.”

Teacher: “Well… we have a spare. Use that one for now, and look around the classroom. When you go home, try to find your math book and bring it in. Otherwise, you’ll have to pay for it before you can go to sixth grade.”

(I don’t find my math book at home or in any of the cubbies at school, and all the other students in all three rotation classes deny seeing it. I’m worried, because the math books had been bought that year and would therefore be pricey to pay for. Finally, on the second-to-last-day of school, my mom relents and writes a check for the book. During class, I turn in the rest of my textbooks.)

Teacher: “[My Name], did you ever find your math book?”

Me: “No. I have the check; I’ll give it to you at the end of class.”

(A student from the science rotation class comes in holding a math book in their hands.)

Student: “Hi, [Teacher]… I had two math books. One at home; one in my cubby. I just used them both all year, but this one has [Teacher] and [My Name] written inside the cover.”

Teacher: “[Student], are you telling me that I blamed [My Name] all year for losing her math book when really you ‘borrowed’ it, pretended you didn’t, and never gave it back because you didn’t want to carry your book between school and your house?”

Student: “Yes… I’m sorry.”

Teacher: “Sorry is not enough. Sit down here. Here’s a piece of paper and a pencil. You’re going to write [My Name] an apology letter.”

(He did sit down next to me and write me the apology, though I felt very embarrassed by this. On the other hand, it was very satisfying to rip the check up and tell my parents the book had been found and we didn’t have to pay!)

Frozen Yoghurt For Warm Hearts

, , , , , , | Right | June 5, 2017

(I work at a small self-serve frozen yogurt store. One night, a man and his young daughter come in, the daughter clearly excited about getting frozen yogurt. I chat with them, help them out, and everything goes fine until it’s time to pay. He reaches into his wallet to pay, and pulls out a $100 bill. Because $100 bills are so easily faked and because we have so little in our change drawers, our store policy won’t let me accept it.)

Me: “I’m afraid I can’t accept a $100 bill, sir; it’s against our store policy. Do you have another method of payment, like a credit card?”

Customer: “No, this is all I have. Are you sure that you can’t take it?”

(He shows me the entire wallet, which, true to his word, only has $100 bills. By this point, from his accent and the contents of his wallet, it’s clear to me that he and his daughter are foreign tourists out for a late night treat, and as she has been so excited, I don’t have the heart to make her give the yogurt back.)

Me: “In that case, I’ll just let you have the yogurt for free.”

Customer: “Oh! Thank you — but I’ll come back to pay you. I’ll go to the bank and get smaller bills.”

Me: “You don’t have to do that; it’s all right. Have a good night!”

Customer: “No, no, no. I will come back!”

(The two of them start to head out with their yogurt.)

Customer’s Daughter: “Where are we going, Daddy?”

Customer: “To the bank, so that I can pay the lady. Go ahead and eat your yogurt.”

(They leave, and I leave the check open and go back to tending to the store. About fifteen minutes later, I notice a truck pull up in front of the store, and to my surprise, it’s that customer and his daughter!)

Me: “Hello, I see that you are back!”

Customer: “Yes, I went to the bank to get money you can take. Here you are!”

Me: “Oh, thank you!”

(He hands me a $20 to pay. Since I’d left the check open, I was able to give him change and hand it to him.)

Customer: “They closed the exit to here so I had to drive all the way around to the other exit — but I was going to get you your money!”

Me: “Thank you very much for coming back, sir. A lot of people wouldn’t have bothered.”

Customer: “No, thank you for letting us take the yogurt. Have a good night!”

(That girl is lucky to have such a great father!)

Oil Try Again Somewhere Else

, , , , | Right | July 23, 2016

(I’m selling my car to raise money for a move to Japan in 2011. I’ve found a prospective buyer and let her have a test drive. We’re getting to the time to change out money and car and she brings her husband who takes his time to go around the car.)

Husband: “We can’t pay your asking price for this.”

Me: “Why not?”

Husband: “It’s leaking oil, see?”

(Points under the car to where a small amount of liquid has discolored the pavement.)

Husband: “It’ll cost is too much to keep it running.”

Me: “That’s funny. It doesn’t use that much oil.”

Husband: “Well, we’ll still have to ask you to drop the price to [amount way lower than what will get me the money I need for the move].”

Me: “I’m sorry, but I can’t afford to go that low. I wouldn’t have enough money to get to my new job.”

Husband: “Well, the highest I can go would be [price that is still way too low].”

Me: “No. I think I’ll have call this off and find someone else, then.”

Husband: “Are you sure? You’re not going get it sold to anyone with that leak.”

Me: “Yeah, I think so. Sorry for wasting your time.”

(Husband and Wife look bewildered that I’m not willing to haggle but leave anyway. I take my car back to my parents’ home where I’m staying before heading to Japan.)

Father: “They were trying to scam you.”

Me: “It kinda felt like that, but how can you know?”

Father: “There’s no oil stains on our driveway. If you were leaking oil there’d be at least one.”

(I later had my mechanics look for leaks and they found none, saying the only liquid was coming from condensation. I took the car to a used car place and got about 90% of my asking price… more than double the best price the husband offered me. The used car place’s damage report only found cosmetic damage and found the engine and car itself to be in excellent condition. I am still in Japan.)


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