Had To Search Card And Wide

, , , , , | Right | January 31, 2019

(My hotel recently upgraded to key cards instead of old-school keys. Instead of getting the standard, cheap magnetic cards, we opted for more expensive cards with a chip and antenna in them that prevents them from deactivating. Because these cards aren’t cheap, we do charge for them when they are taken, and this notice is printed on each of the key cards to let guests know. One morning at checkout, I have a particularly difficult time with several guests yelling at me about the missing card charge. This interaction is the best, though.)

Me: *talking to the guest checking out* “So, you’re at a zero balance, and I’ll just need your key card, and you can be on your way!”

Guest: “I left it in the room.”

Me: “Are you sure? Because if our housekeeping staff cannot find it in the room, there is a charge for missing keys.”

Guest: “Are you serious? How much?”

Me: “£5. They’re not the cheap magnetic cards. They have a chip and antenna in them to prevent them—“

Guest: *cutting me off* “This is ridiculous! £5? You should be ashamed of yourself! I stay in hotels for business three times a week and I’ve not ever been charged for a key card!”

(He then starts to unload his things at the desk; he hangs his coat on the edge of the desk, takes out his phone, takes out ANOTHER phone, takes out his wallet, takes out his car keys… and then magically PULLS THE KEY CARD OUT OF HIS POCKET and slams it on the desk.)

Me: *trying to be as nice as possible, even though HE is the one who should be ashamed!* “Oh! Looks like it wasn’t in the room after all. Thank you sooo much for returning it, and I hope you have a nice day!”

A Sterling Example Of Culture Shock

, , , , | Right | January 29, 2019

(I’m the idiot customer in this story. When I am 18, my dad takes me to Scotland for a vacation. While there I decide I want a kilt because they look awesome. We go into a clothing store.)

Me: *looking through a rack of tartan skirts on hangers* “How much are these kilts?”

Sales Lady: *looking at me like I’m insane* “I’m sorry, sir… but those are ladies’ kilts.”

Me: *confused* “But… what’s the difference?”

Sales Lady: “Ladies may buy their tartans off the rack if they choose, but gentleman’s kilts are always custom-tailored. You choose your tartan pattern and have a fitting, and then a tailor makes it for you. It usually takes several weeks, and 100 or 150 pounds.”

Me: *amazed* “150 pounds of wool?!”

Sales Lady: *disgusted with this ignorant American* “No, sir. 150 pounds sterling. That’s our money.”

(The worst thing is, I knew the British used pounds as money. I just got confused!)

Brain Freeze

, , , | Right | January 29, 2019

(I work at my local cinema. This day my till is the furthest away from the ice cream counter but ice cream can be sold at any till. I sell a guest a two-scoop tub of ice cream.)

Me: “All right, I’ll meet you down at the ice cream counter so you can choose your ice cream.”

(I walk down to the ice cream counter and get the scoop ready just to see the guest still standing at my till. I wait a few moments and she finally realizes.)

Guest: “Sorry, I didn’t realise I needed to come down as well.”

Me: *internally* “Sorry, I haven’t quite mastered telepathy yet.”

They Refuse To Meat You In The Middle

, , , , | Right | January 22, 2019

(I am sixteen years old, working on the delicatessen counter. A lady comes over.)

Customer: “Hello there. Can you show me your beef joints?”

Me: “Sure. Right this way, ma’am.”

(I leave my station to head ten feet away to the raw beef. In the meantime, an 80-year-old woman approaches the deli.)

Me: “So, ma’am, these are all our beef joints.”

(The deli bell rings.)

Customer: “I want a bigger one.”

Me: “I apologise, but this is, unfortunately, all we have.”

(The deli bell rings again.)

Me: “I’m very sorry, ma’am, but I must tend to my station. Please, will you excuse me?”

Customer: “Don’t you walk away. I want a large beef joint!”

(The deli bell rings again, while the woman ringing stares at me.)

Me: “I’m extremely sorry, but I cannot help anymore; this is all our stock and I can’t summon more at will!”

Customer: “I will be speaking to someone cleverer than you.”

(I return to my usual deli workstation, as she wanders away, moaning about my intelligence! I return to the old lady who has been ringing.)

Me: “Hello there! Sorry for your wait; how can I help you?”

Old Lady: “You know, I have a good mind to walk away from you!”

Me: “I’m very sorry; however, I—“

Old Lady: “It was extremely rude of you to leave me unattended. You’ve cost your company money you know!”

Me: “Oh, well, I’m extremely sorry I couldn’t sell you anything today. Have a lovely weekend.”

Old Lady: “But I still want my sandwich meat!”

Me: “Oh, I’m very glad, ma’am. What can I get you?”

Old Lady: “A single slice of your [cheapest ham], thank you!”

Periodically Bloated

, , , , , | Working | January 21, 2019

(I’m having really bad back pain so I ask my Mum to drop a hot water bottle to work for me in the hope that it will help. I go down to the canteen there to fill it up and grab some chocolate while I’m there. Another woman is making tea at the same time and she sees my hot water bottle and chocolate.)

Worker: *sympathetically* “That time of the month, huh?”

(I laugh and gesture to my stomach.)

Worker:Wow! You get really bloated on your period. Does that not hurt?!”

Me: “Uh… I’m seven months pregnant!”

Worker: “I know they say you shouldn’t ask a woman if she’s pregnant, but I really should have copped that one, shouldn’t I? I’m so embarrassed!”

(For the next couple of weeks I seemed to pass the same woman a lot and she always jokingly pretended she didn’t notice I was pregnant. It really amused me.)

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