He’s Lined Up For An Argument

, , , , | | Right | July 23, 2019

(I’m at the post office to deliver a package. As I’m waiting for the worker to finish inputting information on his computer, another worker comes up to the counter, towing a cart with a single box on it; he then calls to a woman standing against the wall with a slip in hand to pick up a package. When she walks up to receive help, an older man walks out of the line and approaches her.)

Man: *tapping her shoulder* “Excuse me, ma’am, but I was standing in line there and you just cut in front of me.”

Woman: *after looking startled for a moment* “Oh, he just called me up for a pick-up. I wasn’t in the line.”

Man: “Yes, but I was in the front of the line there and you just cut ahead of me.”

Woman: “I was already waiting against that wall over there to pick up a package. I didn’t—“

Man: “I know, but I was in the front of the line and you just cut ahead of me. I should have been next.”

(At this point, the worker who’s assisting her cuts in.)

Worker: “Sir, she was just waiting for a pick-up. She didn’t cut the line; I called her over here.”

Man: “Yes, I know, but I was in front and she just cut ahead of me. She shouldn’t have gone ahead of me; I was supposed to be next.”

Worker: “She wasn’t in the line, sir. She was waiting for me to retrieve her package. I couldn’t assist you over here. I’m just giving her a package.”

Man: “I know, but she just shouldn’t have done that. I was in the front of the line.”

Worker: “I’m sorry, sir, but she’s just picking up a package. I wouldn’t have been able to help you.”

Man: “Yes, I know, that’s fine. But she shouldn’t have done that.”

(The man returns to the line, and the woman scurries away with her package, looking flustered. The worker shakes his head and throws his hands up.)

Worker: *pushing his empty cart away* “I’m sorry, sir, but I couldn’t have helped you even if I wanted to!”

Self-Labelled Stupid

, , , , | | Right | July 23, 2019

(I work in our returns department. I give customers return labels if the item is defective. If the customer can’t print out the return label, it’s their responsibility to contact us. This is stated in the email that we send with the return label. If the customer decides to ship on their own account, we do not reimburse shipping charges. Every once in a while, I get these calls.)

Customer: “I couldn’t print out the label you sent me, so I paid for the shipping. Can I be reimbursed since it’s your fault for the defective item and I had to pay for shipping?”

Me: “I’m sorry, but our return policy states that it’s the responsibility of the consumer to contact us if they can’t print out the label. We don’t reimburse shipping charges if you decide to ship on your own account instead of using the label that we provided.”

Customer: “Where does it say that? I never got that message.”

Me: “Sir, it’s in the email that we sent along with the return label.”

Customer: “You expect me to read every email I receive?”

Me: “Well, yes, since you requested to return the item and we sent you the instructions.”

Customer: “So, am I getting my money back for the shipping charges?”

Me: “No.”

Customer: *hangs up*

Stephanie Is The Victim In All This

, , , , | | Right | July 22, 2019

(After moving into our home, we receive occasional phone calls asking to set up a hair-styling appointment. A little online research shows that our new phone number once belonged to a local hair salon. The salon went out of business many years ago, but some online business directories still have the listing. For almost all the callers, telling them that they’ve reached a private residence is enough; they apologize and hang up. One caller refuses to accept that:)

Me: “Hello?”

Caller: “Yeah, uh, this is [Caller], and I need to make an appointment.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but this is a private residence. We’re not a hair salon.”

Caller: “But I need to get my hair done.”

Me: “Wish I could help, but that salon is out of business. We just got their phone number.”

Caller: *apparently referring to their computer* “But this says you’re open! I need to get my hair done next Thursday.”

Me: *giving up* “Okay, fine. What time next Thursday?”

Caller: “Between 10:00 and 11:00, but I’d like Stephanie. Does she still work there?”

Me: *just making stuff up now* “Yes, she does, and you’re in luck; Stephanie has an opening at 10:30.”

Caller: “Okay, that’ll work.”

Me: “See you then!”

(I am curious where the caller went that day, but I never heard from her again.)

Turning Into A Soap Opera

, , , , | | Right | July 22, 2019

(I am working as a volunteer in a reenactment of Bethlehem at the time of the birth of Christ. I am working as a soap maker with three other women and a two-year-old. One half of the area is our shop and the other is a living area. I am working in the shop, explaining soap making to curious guests and handing out samples to children)

Me: “Hello, welcome to my soap shop!”

Guest: *says something in Spanish*

Daughter: *translates* “Can she have one of those?” *points to samples*

(I normally only give samples to children, but if an adult asks I don’t refuse.)

Me: “Here you go!”

(The lady takes the sample and pops it in her mouth. Her daughter and I lock eyes. The soap we have on display is homemade and I get told it looks like cheese all the time.)

Daughter: “Jabon!” *the Spanish word for soap; something I learned from the encounter*

(They leave.)

Coworker: “Do you need a break?”

Me: “Of course!”

(I delight the guests by playing dreidel with the baby until my coworker comes over and whispers to me.)

Coworker: “We had a lady come and eat some of the myrrh.”

(Myrrh is an amber-rock-looking thing that smells good. One of our soaps is made with it and it’s one of the gifts the Wise Men gave to Jesus so we have it on display.)

Me: *facepalm* “It’s going to be a long night.”

Unfiltered Story #158353

, , | | Unfiltered | July 20, 2019

I answer the phone at work.

Me: We’re having a great day at [restaurant] in [city]. This is [my name]. How may I help you?

Them: Is this [hospital]?

Me: I’m sorry, what was that?

Them: Is this [hospital]?

Me: No… This is [restaurant]…

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