Did A Number On You

, , , , , | Right | September 8, 2017

(I’m 18 years old and work in a local grocery store. In order to get deals and sales on items, customers usually give us a card or their phone numbers. One evening as I’m checking, a customer who looks to be in his late 30’s comes through my line.)

Me: “Hi, how are you tonight?”

Customer: “Good!”

Me: “Glad to hear that! Do you have your grocery card or phone number with you by chance? You’ll save some money.”

(The customer decides to give me his phone number.)

Customer: “Okay, now since I gave you my number, you give me yours.”

(I’m a little startled by this comment, but I decide to not say anything and just keep checking him out. I get done and put my hand out to give him his change and receipt.)

Customer: “Oh, you can just write it on the receipt.”

(Since he speaks while I am counting his change back, I don’t understand what he says at first. I almost don’t say anything, until I notice he hasn’t taken his change out of my hand yet. I then realize that he wants me to acknowledge what he said.)

Me: “I’m so sorry; I didn’t catch that. What did you say?”

Customer: “Your number. You can just write it on the receipt.”

Me: *in the friendliest customer service voice I have ever used* “…thank you, have a nice day, sir!”

Dress Down For Lunch Or You’ll Get A Good Dressing

, , , , , , | Right | September 8, 2017

(I’m on a 30-minute lunch break at the grocery store where I work. I’m still in my apron, I am standing in a checkout line holding food and a drink to buy, and I am on my phone. A customer approaches me.)

Customer: “Excuse me, do you work here?”

Me: “Yes, I do, sir.”

Customer: “Do you know where salad dressing is?”

Me: “Of course, it’ll be to your left on aisle one.”

Customer: “Come show me!”

(I decide not to tell him that I’m on a lunch break, and decide that it’ll be easier to just lead him to the aisle. I show him to the correct spot, and am about to leave and go get in line again when he says:)

Customer: “I need you to pick some salad dressings out for me.”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Customer: “I’m on a fast and can’t have eggs, cheese, or dairy. I need you to pick some out for me and read me the ingredients.”

(By this point I’m a bit alarmed and confused, but I decide to help him further. I pick him out a lovely balsamic vinaigrette and read the ingredients.)

Me: “This one doesn’t have any eggs, milk, or dairy in it.”

Customer: “Really? No eggs?”

Me: “No.”

Customer: “No milk?”

Me: “No.”

Customer: “No dairy?”

Me: “Nope.”

Customer: “Okay, pick me out another one.”

(I do, and after reading the ingredients again, I hand the bottle to the customer and make sure that the back of it with the ingredients list is facing him. He briefly looks over it.)

Customer: “Okay, I’ll get this one.”

Me: “Great choice, sir. Have a wonderful day.”

(Needless to say, I practically inhaled my lunch when I got up to the break room. That’s the last time I’ll ever wear my apron/name tag on a lunch break again.)

The Excuses Are Just As Overboard

, , , , | Related | September 3, 2017

(My dad and I have been jokingly accusing my mom of going overboard for my dad’s 50th birthday party. The day before the party, my mom’s two friends, whom I refer to as aunts, come over to help her get ready. That evening I walk downstairs, and there are decorations up everywhere.)

Mom: “How does it look?”

Me: “Looks like you and your friends had fun.”

Mom: “It’s not my fault! I just bought those few things from [Store], and then I called [Aunt] and asked if she still had things from [Cousin]’s casino-themed party.”

Me: “Sounds like you still instigated.”

Mom: “I didn’t expect her to bring EVERYTHING, plus things from her own 50th, plus some other things! And then while we were putting stuff up, she starts going ‘Oh, you shouldn’t use this one. Here, let me make you this, and make you this while I’m at it.’ It’s her fault, not mine.”

Me: “Are you practicing on me for when Dad gets home?”

Mom: “Yes, does it sound convincing? It’s really not my fault, though.”

Unfiltered Story #92601

, , , | Unfiltered | September 2, 2017

(Background: I was shopping for a car. I foolishly allowed myself to be put through a high-pressure situation that ate up most of my Saturday as I was slowly guilted (yes, guilted) into nearly buying a car that was WAY outside of my budget. I didn’t have the self-confidence to control the situation, nor the knowledge of my options and power as the consumer, and the salesman took full advantage of it. He also, through the course of conversation, learned that I was (am) a Christian and in an attempt to connect with me he mentioned that he “goes to church, too.” I came to my senses regarding the sale and walked away when I was able to get away from him for about 30 minutes and was about to sign the financing. I booked it out of the dealership before the salesman could find out what happened and catch me in his claws again. However, he proceeded to call me and leave me no less than 8 voice mails over the next day and a half trying to get me to come back in and rework the sale. I did call him back once–after probably the fifth voicemail–to try to put an end to it but he wasn’t taking “no” for an answer. The following Monday I’m browsing around other car lots and hear my phone ring. I answer the phone reflexively before I can think about it. As soon as I accept the call, but before anyone says anything, I know who it is.)

ME: “. . . (sigh) . . . Hello?”

SALESMAN: “HEEEEEEEEEEEEEY [MY NAME]! How you doing? This is [Salesman] over at [Dealership] and I was thinking about our DEAL–”

ME: [hangs up]

(The phone rang again about 10 seconds later and I let it go to voicemail. I listened to it later.)

SALESMAN: (very calm) “Hey there, [my name]. This is [Salesman] down at [dealership]. Hey I’m just so sorry that you feel so bad . . . in dealing with me . . . that AS A CHRISTIAN you think it’s okay to just hang up on me and not even give me the day of time [sic]. But you know what? That’s fine, man. I hope you have a nice life and that you find the car that you’re looking for. Bye.”

(Never heard from him again, thank goodness. Important car-buying lessons learned, and a great story gained, as a result, though).

This Hold Time Is A Joke

, , , , , | Working | August 25, 2017

(On behalf of the company I work for, I call an office furniture company.)

Me: “Hello, this is [My Name] from [Company]. Can you quote me some prices on drafting tables?”

Receptionist: “One moment while I transfer you to that department…”

On Hold Message: “You have been put on hold. Being on hold is a lot like trout fishing, in that it allows you to do absolutely nothing with a clear conscience. Enjoy!”

(Followed by soft jazz…)

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