Literally Doesn’t Know Where To Start

, , , , , | Right | August 19, 2020

I work in IT for a retail company. I freely acknowledge that the users I support don’t have the technical knowledge or experience that I do — that’s how I keep my job — but it amazes me the number of people who don’t know even basic stuff about computers. I get variations on this a lot.

Me: “Okay, it looks like I’m going to have to remote in. Can I get your computer name?”

User: “It’s [employee number].”

Me: “No, the workstation ID so I can remote in?”

User: “Oh! It’s a Dell.”

Me: “No… the name of the computer so I can connect to it. I need to connect to the computer to assist with your issue. It’ll be in either [format] or possibly [other format].”

User: “Where is that?”

Me: “If you don’t have a sticker on the tower, you can pull up your start menu and type [NAME].”

I spell it out phonetically.

User: “What’s a start menu?”

Me: “In the lower left-hand corner of your screen; you’ll see either four different colored boxes or four white boxes.”

User: “Where’s the start menu?”

Me: “Do you see the clock in the lower right-hand corner of the screen? Opposite that.”

User: “Start menu… Okay, where am I supposed to click?”

Me: “Just type [NAME].”

User: “Where?”

Me: “Once you’ve pulled up the start menu, just type [NAME].”

User: “Okay, now what are you looking for?”

Me: “There should be something that says either [Device Name] or [Computer Name].”

The user proceeded to read me all the system information for the computer.

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Unfiltered Story #205675

, , , | Unfiltered | August 17, 2020

(I’m a cashier, often in charge of the self-checkouts. Alcohol can’t be purchased at the self-checkout, and there are signs stating this at each register, between each register, and at the front of the self-checkout line. Yet, still, every day I’m on self-checkout, someone tries. The register flags me that there’s a problem:)
Customer: (holds their ID in my face)
Me: I’m sorry, but alcohol can’t be purchased over here. You’ll have to go to a regular lane or Guest Service.
Customer: There should really be a sign.

Unfiltered Story #205673

, , , | Unfiltered | August 17, 2020

*(For context, I am a larger young woman. Not ridiculously obese, but I am bigger and I know it.)*

*Passenger walks up to my line wearing a cute black and white dress*
Me: Oh wow, that’s a really cute dress!
Her: Thank you! It’s from [Store]
Me: *smiling and shrugging* Aww well, unfortunately they don’t carry anything in my size.
Her: *smiling back* Unfortunately, yeah.
Me: *staring in shock as she walks away, totally oblivious to the blatant rudeness of her comment.*

That’s One Way To Do It…

, , , , , , | Related | August 15, 2020

When one of my cousins got married, she and her husband had a “Generations Dance” at their reception: the dance started with all the married couples on the dance floor, and then anyone married less than an hour — that is, the newlyweds — is told to leave, then anyone less than a year, five years, ten years, and so on, until one couple is left, usually the bride’s or groom’s grandparents.

My grandfather had been married three times, having outlived one wife and gone through a divorce with another before marrying the woman he’d been with — at the time of the wedding — almost thirty years. When the generations dance was announced, he joked to me, “If they count up all of my marriages, I might win!”

My cousin’s other grandparents won, though.

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Class Clown On His Way To Steal Your Girl

, , , , , , , , | Learning | August 15, 2020

I take driver’s ed at a local high school with other teenagers. One is committed to being the class clown, and we all think he is doing pretty well at it. For example, after our teacher stresses that a green traffic light means go WHEN CLEAR, he asks what red means. The class clown calls out, “Stop when clear!”

One day, the classroom phone rings. The class clown is sitting closest and offers to answer it. The teacher obliges.

Class Clown: “Hello, [Teacher]’s room; this is [Class Clown]… Yes, that’s me. Oh, [Teacher] has mentioned me?”

Teacher: “Who is it?”

Class Clown: “Your wife.”

He continues the conversation with the teacher’s wife. The teacher walks over to the phone.

Teacher: “Here, let me have the phone.”

Class Clown: “She said she wants to talk to me.”

The teacher rolls his eyes and grabs the phone.

Teacher: “Right. Hi, honey, I— What? Um, okay.”

He then hands the phone back to the class clown.

Teacher: “She wanted to let me know what she was making for dinner tonight… and now she wants to talk to you again.”

The class clown and the teacher’s wife ended up talking another five or ten minutes. From the side of the conversation we could hear, it sounded like a pleasant one!

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