Men Get Heated Quicker

, , , | Right | September 16, 2019

(I am sitting by the counter in a quiet little Asian restaurant in my small town, waiting for an order that my father called in a few minutes before for my family’s dinner. Another customer comes in and orders a moment before my family’s order is ready.)

Female Employee: “Your order is ready, ma’am.”

(She begins to hand me the two bags.)

Male Customer: “Hey now, I just ordered! She’s just sitting on her a** and gets handed food before the man who just ordered!”

Female Employee: “I’m sorry, sir, but this order was called in before the customer arrived, so it was prepared before what you just ordered a moment ago. Your order is cooking and will be ready soon.”

Male Customer: “This is absurd! I demand she wait until the men are—”

Me: *interrupting him* “Sir, pardon me, but are you married?”

Male Customer: *hesitates* “Yes. What does that have to do with anything?”

Me: “When your wife cooks dinner, does your portion magically cook faster than everyone else’s meal?”

Male Customer: *grumbles, but doesn’t say anything further*

(To my surprise, the employee then opens the door to help me, as I have a bag in each hand.)

Me: “Thank you, ma’am. Have a good evening!”

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An Alarming Rate Of Alarming

, , , , , , | Learning | August 30, 2019

I am a resident assistant in a hall occupied almost entirely by freshmen; in essence, I am a poorly-paid babysitter. A few days into the fall semester, the fire alarm goes off at around 11:00 pm. I usher all the sleepy freshmen out of the building and across the street, and we wait for the firefighters to give us the all-clear.

Eventually, we are able to go back inside, but that’s not the end of it. We have to check the student ID of every. Single. Person. Mind you, 650 students live in this building, not counting overnight guests. It takes a long time, but it’s necessary to keep students safe and prevent strangers from entering the building. 

Finally, everyone is sorted and the RAs can go back to bed. I’ve just fallen into a blissful sleep when I am awakened again by the sound of a fire alarm. I look at my clock and see that it is 3:00 am. Grudgingly, I get out of bed and we do the same song and dance. It takes the firefighters less time to do this round, and we end up going to bed within the hour.

I am appalled when, just before dawn, the fire alarm goes off again. I notice that far fewer people are outside than the previous two alarms, which I later learn is because many students elected to just stay in bed and endure the ear-splitting alarm — and make it that much harder for the rest of us, since we can’t get the all-clear until everyone has left the building. Finally, finally, we get back inside and I get a couple more hours of sleep before my 9:00 am class.

Later, I’m talking to my boss and discover the reason we had so many alarms in one night. There is a dining hall on the first floor of the building, and it was being renovated all summer. They had finally finished construction that week, but somehow messed up the wiring such that it repeatedly triggered the fire alarm. After the third alarm, they finally fixed it.

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Another Day In The Hogwarts Janitorial Department

, , , , , | Learning | August 29, 2019

(I am a resident assistant in a building that was constructed on the site of an orphanage that burned down during WWI. Unexplainable incidents are not unusual, but this is one of the stranger ones.)

Student: “So, uh… A cross just fell off my wall and flew across the room.”

Me: “Put in a work order?”

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Surveying All The Lies

, , , | Right | August 26, 2019

(Working in fast food, sometimes there are rushes where lots of people come to the drive-thru at once. This can make everyone in the line have to wait longer, especially when several people in a row have large orders. We put together most of the food on the spot so it’s not ready immediately and can take a couple of minutes. One woman comes through during one of these rushes. I have her food already at the window.)

Me: “Your total comes to [total]. Would you like any sauce with that?”

Customer: “No.” *hands me the money*

(I put it in the till and hand her the food and change.)

Me: “Your change is [amount]. Here’s your food. On the back of your receipt is a link to a survey—”

Customer: “Oh, so I can call to complain about being in line for twenty minutes?!”

(I glance at the computer which says ten minutes. Admittedly, this is longer than average.)

Me: “I… guess so.”

(She drove off in a huff. A few days later, I saw her again at the drive-thru. About the same thing happened as before. A few days after that, one of my coworkers was unfortunate enough to meet her. My coworker handed her the food at seven minutes from the start of her order. She again complained about being in line for twenty minutes before driving off in a huff.)

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Prepay Pump Predicament  

, , , , | Right | August 22, 2019

(I am the assistant manager of a gas station when I am in college. In our area, gas pumps are just being changed to prepay only to avoid drive-offs. People who drive off without paying for their gas are a special kind of evil, by the way. The way our gas pumps are set up, we can see all but the last two of them from behind the counter, so those last two are the only pumps set at prepay only. One day, I am working by myself and it is a pretty busy day. The last prepay pump keeps beeping at me but I have been told by my boss that I should never turn it on for anyone without them paying first so I just keep ignoring the beeping. Finally, after 15 minutes of beeping, an older lady wearing a sweatshirt that says, “Jesus is the reason for the season,” comes bursting into the store.)

Customer: “Your f****** pump is broken! You should really put a d*** sign on it so that people will f****** know it’s broken!”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am. I didn’t realize we had a broken pump. Do you mind telling me which pump it is so that I can put a sign up?”

Customer: “That’s not my f****** job, but just so you know, it’s number 12.”

(Number 12. The prepay-only pump.)

Me: “I’m so sorry for the misunderstanding, ma’am, but that pump has recently been changed to a prepay-only pump. We can’t turn it on unless you pay first.”

(At this point, the customer wearing the “Jesus is the reason for the season” sweatshirt completely loses it. She starts yelling and screaming about how that is the most ridiculous thing that she’s ever heard of and that we should have a sign on the pump that says that it’s a prepay-only pump. When I try to explain that the pump in question actually does have a prepay only sign on it, she takes it as a personal insult and a challenge and tells me she is going back out there to look, and that if that pump doesn’t have a sign on it, then I will pay for her gas with my job. She rushes back outside, comes back in a minute later with a red face, and, without another word, throws two $20s at me and goes outside to pump her gas. Her car only holds $30 so she has to come back in and get her change. The whole time she is in line she is seething and muttering various expletives about me. When I hand her her $10 in change, I smile very sweetly and look pointedly at “Jesus is the reason for the season” written across her shirt.)

Me: “I hope you have a great day! Nice shirt, by the way.”

(And then, this little old lady started swinging at me across the counter. If I hadn’t have stepped back, I would have gotten a solid right hook to the eye. It took two of my regular customers to pull her away from the counter and out of the store. The whole time, she was struggling to get to me and shouting the foulest language.)

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