Did She Think They Were Faking Competence Before?

, , , , , | Working | January 25, 2021

I have Asperger’s Syndrome. I become close to one of my coworkers at my job at a grocery store and tell her my diagnosis. She suddenly starts treating me differently, like I can’t do anything for myself.

Coworker: “Do you want me to scan that for you? Your coordination probably isn’t good.”

Coworker: “Can you price check this for me? I know that you people are good with numbers.”

One day, she goes too far and I’ve had enough. I decide to tell her exactly how I feel about the way she’s treating me. Here’s what she says:

Coworker: “I know you probably have siblings that are, um, challenged like you.”

Me: “Are you serious, [Coworker]? I’m not mentally challenged; I simply have a social disorder that makes me different! I am not an invalid, and I am not a child, and I don’t like being treated like one. I wish you’d stop that behavior because it’s not helping. It’s insulting.”

Suddenly, I realize that my boss and a customer are only a few feet away. My boss is red in the face. The customer is shocked and then starts laughing.

Customer: “If you write her up, I’ll complain about you!”

My boss later took me aside and asked me what that was about. I told him about how my coworker had been treating me because of my diagnosis. He told me not to shout in front of customers anymore and he wouldn’t write me up. He also had words with my coworker about how to treat other employees. That particular coworker now doesn’t talk to me unless she absolutely has to.

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She Wants A Book And It Is Blue And Blue On De Ting

, , , , | Right | January 25, 2021

I’m working at the customer service desk in a large chain bookstore when a woman approaches the desk.

Me: “Hi, how can I help you today?”

Customer: “I’m looking for a book.”

There’s a long pause. I suppress the urge to congratulate her for finding the appropriate store for such a purchase.

Me: “Okay, great! What book are you looking for?”

Customer: “Well, I don’t remember the title.”

Me: “That’s no problem; lots of people come in without the title, and we can usually find the book they want from other information. Do you know the author?”

Customer: “No.”

Me: “How about the subject matter?”

Customer: “No.”

Me: “Is it fiction or nonfiction?”

Customer: “I don’t know.”

Me: *Pause* “Do you know what the cover looks like? I do a lot of the shelving, so I might recognize it.”

Customer: “No.”

Me: “Okay… Where did you hear about the book? Oprah? NPR? The New York Times? We keep lists of the books they mention.”

Customer: “I heard about it from my sister.”

Me: “Do you know where she found out about it?”

Customer: “No. It was a few years ago.”

Me: “Okay…”

There’s another long pause as I look helplessly at her, having exhausted any possible means of determining what book she’s looking for.

Customer: “So, do you have it?”

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You’ll Go “Clunk” When Your Mom Gets Hold Of You

, , , , , | Legal | January 12, 2021

In the early 1980s when my parents are first married, they are staying in the town my dad grew up in. The town has less than 2,500 people. Everyone knows everyone else, and they’re all related in some way. One night, after having dinner with his parents, they return to the place they are staying to find someone has broken in and stolen most of their things, including my mother’s collapsible pool stick, which is her pride and joy.

They report it to the police, tell his parents, and try to find a way to calm down. Dad suggests they go to the local bar, get a couple of drinks, and maybe ask around about it. As they sit there and talk to some people, Mom hears a very familiar noise. It’s the distinctive “clunk” noise that her pool stick makes when it strikes the cue ball. She gets my dad’s attention and points out the pool table to him.

One of his cousins is playing pool, and the stick he’s using is the one making the “clunk” noise.

Mom: “[Dad], that’s my stick!”

Knowing better than to cause a scene in a bar, my dad went to the payphone… and called his aunt. He told her what had happened and that he thought her son was the one who’d broken into the house. His aunt came down immediately and dragged my dad’s cousin out by the collar of his shirt, screaming up one side and cussing down the other. 

Turns out, he HAD been the one to break into the house, figuring my mom, who was from out of state, would have really valuable stuff to sell. Luckily, he hadn’t had a chance to sell anything, and they got everything back.


This story is part of our Best Of January 2021 roundup!

Read the next Best Of January 2021 roundup story!

Read the Best Of January 2021 roundup!

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Self-Check Yourself Before You Self-Wreck Yourself, Part 2

, , , , | Right | November 22, 2020

I’m a cashier at a grocery store. In the summer, I get scheduled to supervise the self-checkout station quite frequently. It seems to attract mostly rude customers, so it’s not my favorite place to be, but money is money so I grin and bear it.

I have a customer who is definitely in a hurry, so I figure she’ll be a little snappy, but I am unprepared for her attitude. The machine freezes up on her as it is reading her card so she spins around and screams.

Customer: “YOU NEED TO FIX THIS!”

I reverse the transaction and it asks her to swipe again, which the machine promptly rejects and then freezes again. She glares at me.

Customer: “So what’s the problem here?”

Me: “I’m sorry, that machine appears to be freezing up on you. If you don’t mind, I could transfer your transaction to one of the other machines and you’ll be out in a jiffy!”

Customer: “NO! I’m staying right here, at this machine, because I am not about to move all my stuff somewhere else!”

I don’t mention that she wouldn’t have to move her stuff; it seems like that would only further anger her. After trying the card several more times:

Me: “Do you have another card you could try?”

Customer: *Huffs* “No, of course not. Why would I use another card?!”

Me: “Then I am afraid you will either have to pay another way or move because this machine is not going to take her card.”

Customer: *Screaming again* “Why are you so incompetent to fix the machine?! Hiring standards never used to be this low! Ugh, do you take checks?”

Me: “We do; however, the check machine here at self-checkout requires manual entry because it’s not up to date with the rest of the registers and it would be harder to take your check here. I would highly suggest moving to another register if you’re going to pay with a check.”

This was definitely the wrong thing to say.

Customer: *Screeching* “IT’S HARDER? I’M HERE TO PAY FOR MY GROCERIES AND YOU DON’T WANT TO TAKE MY CHECK JUST BECAUSE IT’S HARDER ON YOU?! Oh, poor you. You have such a hard life and a hard job and people like me make it so much harder, isn’t that right? Listen. It sounds like you’re just trying to get rid of me, IS THAT IT? You just don’t want me here, so you’re finding every excuse to move me somewhere else. Well, IT’S NOT GONNA WORK. TAKE MY CHECK NOW!”

All the other cashiers and customers are staring at this point. I silently take her check and start typing in numbers as she stands directly in front of me, staring at me angrily the whole time. I say the numbers back to her to confirm and she repeats them back in a mocking tone.

Customer: “God, your voice is so annoying. As if this day wasn’t bad enough already, now I have to listen to you. I hope I never see you again.”

After she left, my managers promptly came over to see why she was so upset. After I relayed the story to them, they were convinced I had said all the right things and her outbursts weren’t my fault at all.

Related:
Self-Check Yourself Before You Self-Wreck Yourself

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No Underage Understanding, Part 3

, , , , | Right | November 3, 2020

I am ringing up customers at around seven at night. A lady with beautiful purple hair and her friend walk up wanting to buy wine.

Me: “I need to see your IDs, please.”

She hands me hers. She’s over twenty-one, but her friend doesn’t have her ID.

Me: “I’m sorry but I can’t legally sell this to you.”

Customer: “But I’m the one buying it?”

Me: “Ma’am, it’s the law. I can’t tell how old your friend is.”

She argues with me more, and I have no idea how to handle it other than to be polite since she is the first customer to really blow up on me.

Customer: “Fine! I’ll send my friend to the car and go find someone who isn’t a c*** to check me out.” *Leaves*

Me: “Ma’am, you forgot your mini Rubik’s cube!”

She comes back and gets it.

Me: “Have a good night!”

I told the manager working and he told me that he would have banned her from buying it if I’d told him sooner about her. Oh, well. Karma has a heck of a bite to lay on her. Be nice to us; we’re trying not to end up in jail!

Related:
No Underage Understanding, Part 2
No Underage Understanding

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