Unfiltered Story #109169

, | Unfiltered | April 20, 2018

(While I’m working near the front of the store, a customer approaches me and says her car won’t start.)

Me: “We carry jumper cables in the automotive section…”

Customer: “No, no, I can’t afford those. Can you come jump my car?”

Me: “I’m afraid not. I don’t have any cables either, and I can’t go out there during my shift.”

Customer: “Well, my car won’t start.”

Me: “I can call a manager for you, maybe she can help you call a service…”

(I call my manager and she comes over, then she and the customer walk off together. I keep working. A few minutes later, the customer comes back.)

Customer: “So all she said was that she could give me the number for an automotive service. What should I do?”

Me: “…did you want to call them?”

Customer: “No. But my car won’t start. And I’m in a bit of a rush, I need to get to the airport.”

Me: “I’m really sorry about that. Unless you have someone you can call to jump your car, I’d suggest calling that service.”

(The customer wanders off again, and I don’t think anything more of it. Ten minutes later, my shift is over. I clock out, put on my sweater that’s a different color than my store’s uniform, and shop for a few minutes. The same customer stops me again.)

Customer: “My car still won’t start. Will you give me a jump now?”

Me: “No. I’m sorry, but I still don’t have any jumper cables. I don’t think anyone here has any cables. You can still either buy some yourself and ask one of your friends to come to get a jump from their car, or you can call the automotive service my manager gave you the number for.”

Customer: “Oh, so you can’t jump my car?”

Me: “No.”

Customer: “Can you ask someone else to help me?”

Me: “I already asked my manager, and she gave you what help she could. No one else here will be able to help you more than that.”

(She leaves, and a minute later when I leave, she’s outside asking the cart pusher why he can’t go jump her car.)

Owning Up To The Situation

, , , | Right | April 20, 2018

(I am the office manager at a family entertainment company and, since it’s so small and the owner is terrible with technology, I’ve spent years taking over the business side. The company has the owner’s name in the title, so I’m either mistaken for her, or people think I can’t help them.)

Me: “Thanks for calling [Company]. This is [My Name].”

Customer: “I would like to talk to [Owner]. We met last week and I want to book an event.”

Me: “Great! I’m actually the office manager, and I handle the bookings, so I can help you—”

Customer: “No, I need to speak with [Owner].”

Me: “But, sir, she is just going to have to give you back to me, because I handle the calendar—”

Customer: “I ain’t got all day, honey. Just put [Owner] on the phone.”

(I give up and ask the owner to stop what she’s doing to talk to the customer who has now insulted me. Since the owner does not do anything when it comes to the schedule, she chats with him for a minute and then, when he inquires about booking, this happens.)

Owner: “Well, yes, we would love to come out to your event! I don’t handle the bookings, though, so I’ll have to give you back to my office manager. She’s great; she’s the backbone of our company. We wouldn’t be running if it wasn’t for her!”

(As I get back on the phone…)

Me: “Hello, sir! So, what day would you like to book?”

Customer: *sheepishly* “Well, let’s look at …”

(I was annoyed at the customer, but he turned out to be a pretty nice guy and has made sure not to try to ask for the owner ever again!)

Gluten Out Of Ten For Ignorance, Part 2

, , , , | Right | April 17, 2018

(I work as a clerk in the dairy department. A female customer flags me down.)

Customer: “Excuse me; I have a question.”

Me: “Yes, ma’am?”

Customer: “Where is your gluten-free water?”

Me: “I’m sorry? I don’t think that is a thing.”

Customer: *huffy* “Are you sure? Fine! I’ll just go to [Other Store]; I’m sure they’ll have it.” *storms off*

Me: *speaking to other clerk* “Doesn’t gluten come from wheat?”

Gluten Out Of Ten For Ignorance

No Take-Backsies

, , , , | Related | April 16, 2018

(It is our wedding day. Before the doors open for my father to walk me down the aisle, he slips something on to my wrist and tells me that everything will be okay. I should note that I have already been married once before. The music starts, the doors open, and we make our way to the front. It’s a beautiful moment, and then our dear friend and officiant asks who is giving the bride. My father steps up.)

Father: “Her mother and I are. And we’re not taking her back. She’s yours for life.”

(With that, my normally rather serious and traditional father sent the entire chapel into an uproar of laughter as he slapped the other half of a pair of handcuffs onto the wrist of my blushing but amused groom. We wore them for the entirety of the ceremony. We’re still happily married, and my dad loves to retell the story.)

Unable To “Hold” In The Laughter

, , , , | Working | April 15, 2018

(I work for a disability law office and often reach out to hospitals and doctor offices about our clients’ medical records. One office has contacted us to say they have never seen one of our clients, and I request a certain letter be returned to place in their file. Two weeks later, I have to contact the office about the letter, which was never sent. The woman I speak to puts me on hold to search for her fax confirmation for the letter. At first, I pay little attention to the hold music, until the man starts singing a horrible rendition of “Lavender’s Blue.” By the time the song gets near the end, he is screeching the chorus, and I’m barely struggling to contain my laughter. The song ends, I think it’s over, until the song starts up again. By the third round, I’m laughing so hard, I’m struggling to stay quiet and not interrupt my coworkers. About midway through the song, the hold music is interrupted.)

Worker: “Okay, we did find the letter, and you’re right; it didn’t send through. We should be able to send it back through within the next ten minutes.”

Me: *still struggling not to laugh* “Thank you so much. I appreciate it.”

Worker: “Are you okay?”

Me: “Have you ever listened to your hold music?”

Worker: “No, but we’ve been asked who chose our hold music. Is it that bad?”

Me: *laughing hard now* “It’s the worst! But it gave me the best laugh, ever. Whoever this guy is, he’s almost squealing when he sings the chorus.”

Worker: *laughing with me* “Now I have to hear!”

(She had a coworker call through on another line via their cell phone, put it on speaker, and put the call on hold. Within a couple of minutes, we were all laughing at the worst hold song ever chosen.)

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