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Not Much Assurance About The Insurance, Part 13

, , , , , | Right | October 10, 2020

I’m an optician working in a large warehouse store. Since glasses and contacts are medical devices, some insurance companies will cover the cost of them, but we don’t have contracts with every provider for direct billing.

Customer: “I just have a quick question.”

Me: “Yes, sir?”

Customer: “Do you take my insurance here?”

Me: “Who’s your vision care provider, sir?”

Customer: “I don’t know.”

Me: “Okay, how about your medical provider?”

Customer: “I don’t know.”

Me: “Okay, is the insurance through your employer or your wife’s employer perhaps?”

Customer: “I don’t know.”

A beat or two passes between us.

Me: “Okay… with respect, sir, if you don’t know, how am I supposed to know?”

Customer: “Maybe I should go call my wife.”

Me: “Yes, please, sir. I need at least something to go off of.”

The man never came back with any more info or questions. My coworkers were all baffled, but sadly, we’ve all had exchanges like that.

Not Much Assurance About The Insurance, Part 12
Not Much Assurance About The Insurance, Part 11
Not Much Assurance About The Insurance, Part 10
Not Much Assurance About The Insurance, Part 9
Not Much Assurance About The Insurance, Part 8

Maybe He Didn’t Have Any Other References?

, , , , , , | Working | September 29, 2020

We have a rule at my office that if another company asks for references for a former employee, we can say all the good stuff we want but can never say anything bad. We have one guy that I liked, but he is fired for incompetence. I get this phone call.

Employer: “How did you like working with [Fired Guy]?

Me: “Oh, yeah, he was a great guy!”

Employer: “Did he do quality work as an engineer?”

Me: “Um, I’m going to have to refer you to our company controller in Little Rock.”

Employer: “Oh, I see. Well, thank you very much.”

Later, [Fired Guy] storms into the office.

Fired Guy: “You guys left me with egg on my face! [Manager] wouldn’t talk to him, either! He said he had to go catch an airplane!”

Me: “Sorry, company rules!” 

I couldn’t help thinking, “Why would you use us for a reference after getting fired?”

Give Them No Credit; They Haven’t Earned It

, , , , , , | Working | September 24, 2020

When I was a child, I had a “Trust CD” account set up for me at a credit union, which contained money that I obtained as the result of a personal injury lawsuit my dad won. It is a two-hour drive to the credit union, so a four-hour round trip. It is not exactly useful to have an account that way, and this credit union is behind the times and cannot be accessed via Internet or ATMs. 

When I turn eighteen in 2008, I go to get the account cleared out to be placed into a bank that is closer to where I live.

My first visit:

Me: “Hi. I’d like to check on my trust account—” *gives information* “—and see about getting it moved into a different account.”

Teller #1: “I can confirm the account is here, and it’s [amount]. But I can’t access this without your parent or guardian.”

Me: *Pause* “Yeah, you can. It’s my account and I’m eighteen now. I just showed you my ID. My birthday was yesterday.”

Teller #1: “Your age doesn’t matter. [Father] is still on the account, too.”

Me: “As the trustee, yes, but not as the account owner. It says that he is the trustee until [my eighteenth birthday]. We have passed that date. I am now, legally, the account owner. Additionally, my dad can’t come here because he’s disabled and the trip would be too far for him to do safely. He lives in [Faraway City].”

Teller #1: “Well, I can’t help you.”

The teller then just looks away like she can’t even see me anymore and stares into space pretending to wait for the next customer. Frustrated, I leave and call my dad. Despite knowing it’ll cause him a lot of pain from being in a vehicle that long due to his back injury, he agrees to come help me a few days later.

My second visit:

I’m tense but as polite as I can manage to be.

Me: “Hi, I’m here with my legal guardian. I’ve just turned eighteen, and he and I are the only names on this trust account. I want it to be released into my care, as I am a legal adult.”

I give them my information. The teller reads something on their screen.

Teller #2: “Sorry, I can’t do that.”

My dad is grumpy from being in pain.

Dad: “Why the h*** not?”

Teller: *Slightly intimidated* “B-because it’s a trust account.”

Dad: “Not since [my eighteenth birthday]; that’s the release date. Now release it!”

Without another word, the teller suddenly leaves her station. We wait. And wait. And wait. It is clear she wants us to just leave, but we decide to stay until formally trespassed, in which case, they’ll be forced to give us all the money from the account anyway.

Eventually, a manager comes to see us, and she has a super irritating fake smile.

Manager: “How can I help you?”

Me: “You can give me access to my own account. The information should be up on the screen already. As you can see, I’m now eighteen, the trust date has passed, and the account legally belongs to me. Your employee refused to release the account on [day after my birthday] without the trustee. Here he is. Now give us the account.”

The manager shakes her head “no,” still with that fake-smile plastered on her face.

Manager: “That won’t be happening today. If you won’t leave, I will call the police.”

My dad puts his feet up on the desk between us and the manager, in part to intimidate and in part to relieve his back pain.

Dad: “Okay, then. Call the cops. [County Police Chief] still works in this area, right?”

The manager looks like she’s just sucked on a lemon. The cops here are incredibly corrupt, so my dad smartly made friends with them so that if he were involved in trouble, it’d be easier for him to get out of it. My dad actually hates cops, but he does what he has to so he can keep our family safe, since he is often mistaken for being black and I am often mistaken for being white.

Manager: *Resumes the fake smile* “You won’t be getting this account. You’ll have to come back with a court order. By then, late fees will basically wipe it out anyway, so you may as well not bother.”

My dad chuckles at the idea of the challenge.

Dad: “Oh, we’ll see about that.”

So, we go to court to get a judge to force the credit union to give us the money. In the paperwork, we include the demand that no fees or deductions may be applied to the account since this issue was caused by the credit union’s mishandling of the account. I also prepare a court summons document, in case they refuse the court order.

My third visit:

My dad comes with me again despite the pain it causes him. Thankfully, he is able to take something for the pain this time so he’s not nearly as grumpy.

Me: *To the teller* “Hi. You need to close my account and issue me a cashier’s check for the entire balance. No fees are permitted to be applied, by court order.”

I give them my information.

Teller #3: *Looking scared* “Uh, I’ll just get the manager.”

This teller flees to the back room. Guess who comes out? It’s Miss Manager Sue Me! My dad speaks up before either the manager or I have a chance to say anything.

Dad: *Seriously* “If we have to tell the story to one more person, I’m going to make this a serious problem for you. You know who we are. Do what the court demands of you.”

The manager attempts to take the court order and turn to walk away, but my dad grabs her arm.

Dad: “No, you can read it right here. I don’t want any chance of you messing it up, like you did with the trust account in the first place.”

The manager reluctantly sits down and my dad lets her go.

Manager: *Fake smile* “Well, it looks like this matter is settled. Now, after fees and penalties, you’ll get—”

I speak louder so other customers can hear, genuinely getting angry.

Me: “You are refusing the demands of a court order right now. Stop trying to steal my money with your bulls***!”

Her fake smile turns into a furious scowl, and she starts being really short with us.

Manager:Fine! I will issue you the cashier’s check—”

Dad: *Interrupting her* “For the full amount, right?”

Manager: *Growling under her breath* “Of course.”

Finally, we close the account and she produces the cashier’s check. She holds it over the table and I attempt to grab it, but she turns it toward my dad to keep it out of my grasp.

Dad: “It isn’t my account, dingbat. How many times do we have to repeat ourselves? Give. It. To. My. Daughter.”

The manager reluctantly turns to hold it out toward me again. I grab it but she doesn’t let go, and I am literally forced to play tug-of-war with her. She clearly hopes to “accidentally” destroy it. My dad slaps her wrist like one would a toddler reaching for the stove, which shocks her into letting it go.

Manager: *Aggressive, but fake-smiling again* “So, would you like to open a checking account with us?”

Dad & Me: *In unison, loudly* “NO!”

She looked genuinely surprised by our response. I took the cashier’s check to a different bank closer to where I live.

The next year, we found out that the credit union had actually failed to give us the whole amount! It was found during an audit. Thankfully, the IRS took that money, and we just had to fill out some quick paperwork to get the last of it instead of having to go to the courthouse again. The IRS was way more reasonable about the whole issue and they were happy to help us finish our association with the credit union, which included closing the trust account without penalty, since the credit union hadn’t actually closed my account that day.

His Loss As It Just Became Boxed Wine

, , , , | Right | September 15, 2020

I’m working the express lane during the tail end of the lunch rush. I see the customer is purchasing four bottles of wine, which means he gets a free wine bag, so I get one before starting his transaction.

Customer: *Rudely* “Can I get a wine carrier?”

I hold up the wine bag.

Me: “That’s what this is, sir.”

Customer: “No, they’re usually cardboard.”

He looks around and spots one of our old boxes that was brought in by a customer earlier in the day and snatches it from the other register.

Me: “Sir, we’ve changed over to these new ones now; we don’t use those anymore.”

The customer begins loading wine into the box before I’m able to even scan them. He is pissed off.

Customer: “Can I just buy these and get the one I want?”

Me: “Uh… okay.”

We finished out the transaction and I offered him a new bag, which was free, despite his rudeness. He leaves and I turned to help the next customer. The next two customers tried to cheer me up, one suggesting that I should’ve carded him just to piss him off.

Maybe The Employees Need Glasses, Too

, , , , , | Working | August 31, 2020

All throughout my life, I have worn glasses. But when I start working on cars, I am able to wear contact lenses so I may wear more comfortable safety glasses and even sunglasses.

When I am dating my girlfriend — now wife — at times I will either wear contacts or just wear glasses. One weekend, we happen to walk by one of those stores that sell only sunglasses and I notice that one of the brands that I really like is on sale.

After browsing and seeing one that I like at a reasonable price, I take it to the register to pay for it. Please note that this is one of the times I am wearing glasses, not contacts.

The cashier hands me my purchase in a bag.

Cashier: “Here are your sunglasses and receipt.”

Me: “Thank you.”

Cashier: “By the way, would you like me to show you how to properly clean those sunglasses?”

I look at her, through my glasses, then at her coworkers standing next to her, and then back at her. I am thinking that it is a joke considering that I am currently wearing glasses in front of her.

Me: “No, thank you. I can properly clean them on my own. See, my own glasses are very clean!”

The cashier just gave me a blank stare, still not realizing I was wearing glasses, and I just walked away.