The Penny Dropped Twenty-Four Months Later

, , , | Right | August 12, 2020

I work in the customer service department for a company that sells phones, subscriptions with the phones, and all kinds of accessories you might need with them. My job consists mainly of answering calls and replying to emails, but we also have a WhatsApp number people can text and a live-chat which customers can enable through our website.

Most phone subscriptions with providers can be made for one or two years, with the latter being the most popular option. As I’m on live-chat duty, I can see which page on our website customers have visited last before enabling the chat.

Customer: “Hi. I’d like to make a subscription with [Phone Type] at [Provider]. I keep clicking on ‘twenty-four-month subscription,’ but when I try to place my order, your website keeps changing it to ‘two-year subscription.’”

I start laughing out loud and tell my colleagues what this person just asked. I answer the customer.

Me: “Good afternoon. I understand there is some confusion about the length of the subscription. It may occur that our website phrases things differently, but twenty-four months is equal to two years. The duration of your contract won’t change.”

After this, the customer didn’t reply anymore. As my colleague put it, he must’ve been too embarrassed after he realised his mistake.

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To Heck With Your Feelings!

, , , , | Learning | August 11, 2020

I’m about thirteen years old. Though I now have an autism spectrum disorder and anxiety disorder diagnosis, at that time I only had the anxiety disorder one. My class consists of only thirteen people including me. I am not a popular person and have never been. 

This occurred in biology, with a teacher I have since gotten to know as completely ignorant of teenage sociology. He is setting up a small group assignment. He won’t set the groups himself. Instead, he calls students to the front, one by one, to ask who they want to be paired up with. I am dreading this as I can see everyone in my class is already pairing up. Unluckily enough, I am called to the front to pick a partner. I know the only four remaining people have already paired up and I can see their dislike of the situation in their faces. My anxiety gets sky-high and I shake my head, unable to speak. He pushes me a bit more, causing me to almost break out in tears. Instead of finding out what the problem is with this clearly distressed young girl, he sends me out of class. 

Keep in mind that I’m normally a really well-behaved girl and have never gotten in trouble with teachers before. Being sent out of class is something really negative in that school. I tear up outside the classroom and cry. 

At some point — I can’t remember whether it is the end of the day or the end of the class — I have to return to him. By this point, my anxiety has dropped and has become anger. I am given a few sheets to copy in my own writing. It is this absolutely horrendously finger waggling set of rules, both normal and moral, and it gets me even angrier. 

Granted, I am a little rebel and decide to just write unreadable squiggles instead of what was actually written — not that far off from my handwriting then — but I still feel like I have done nothing wrong. 

In the end, I am stuck with that particular teacher for five or six years of biology. There isn’t a year without incident with that teacher.

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No Other Way Of Putting It, You’re Racist

, , , | Right | August 10, 2020

I am taking a call about failed maintenance; the worker fell sick during the day and it needs to be rescheduled.

Me: “I apologise that that happened, but luckily, I have a new spot for you tomorrow. Does [time] suit you?”

Caller: “Oh, yes, that’s fine. Thank you.” *Chuckles* “But please, do not send such a scary man next time!”

Me: “I’m sorry?”

Caller: “Yes, you know, a not scary man. You know what I mean! I saw him walking down the street. *Chuckles* “And he rang every doorbell!” *Chuckles again*

Me: “I’m sorry if he startled you, ma’am, but don’t worry, all our employees are most capable.”

Caller: “Yes, but I’d rather have you send a normal person next time?” *Chuckles* “You know, not a negro man. You know how scary they are, don’t you?” *Chuckles again*

I manage to bite my tongue because if I say what I think, it might cost me my job and I honestly can’t afford to lose it.

Me: “No, ma’am, I don’t. I can’t see how scary someone is by just looking at their skin color. And like I said, all our employees are most capable and trustworthy. Every single one of them.”

Caller: “Oh, dear.” *Chuckles* “If you put it that way, it does sound like I said something bad. I don’t think I should have said that. Anyway, thank you for the new appointment!” *Chuckles again*

I don’t even wish her a pleasant day. I write down everything she said into her file, underneath the tag we use for aggressive people. This means that every time her file gets opened, everyone will read her racist remarks. 

When I look aside, I see my coworker staring at me. Apparently, our conversation has been quite loud and she heard the racist remarks. 

Coworker: “Please, let me schedule [Employee #1] and [Employee #2].”

Both employees are very bulky, and you can probably guess the color of one of them. Both are absolute sweethearts. Unfortunately, they were already scheduled for other appointments.

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In Line And Out Of Line, Part 14

, , , | Right | August 10, 2020

My favourite takeout restaurant has a limit of five customers inside at a time due to social distancing measures. I look through the glass door and count four customers, so I touch the door. 

Woman: “Hey, lady, what do you think you are doing?!”

I look to a woman, sitting in a chair on the side, with three children. She is quite far away from the door.

Woman: “It’s my turn! You have to wait in line!”

Me: “Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you were waiting. Well, there are only four customers inside, so feel free to go inside.”

Woman: “No, they will let you know when the next one can go inside. Don’t you know anything?”

I look around if there might be a changed rule, but the woman keeps on going. 

Woman: “These people are waiting, as well! Wait your turn!”

Man: “Eh, no, I’m not. I already ordered and I’m just waiting for it to be done.”

Woman #2: “And I’m just waiting for my husband, who is inside. They don’t call for the next customer; you can go in when someone else left.”

Me: “Well, then that really means you are next! Feel free to go!”

The woman goes inside with her three children — two are at least twelve so they could easily wait outside — and they order ice cream. They are done quite quickly, but while the kids leave the restaurant through the entrance — there’s a separate entrance and exit — the woman keeps on walking back and forth through the restaurant, forcing the people inside to avoid her over and over again. Eventually, she leaves the restaurant… through the entrance, as well. 

Woman: “Now, was waiting that hard?! To follow these simple instructions… There’s a crisis going on, you know!”

I tried to smile at the nasty woman and finally went inside.

Related:
In Line And Out Of Line, Part 13
In Line And Out Of Line, Part 12
In Line And Out Of Line, Part 11
In Line And Out Of Line, Part 10
In Line And Out Of Line, Part 9

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Can’t Do It On Prints-iple

, , , | Right | August 9, 2020

I work as a customer service operator for a bank. Our offices are closed due to the health crisis.

Me: “Hello, how may I help you?”

Caller: “I need to change my bank number and I need to change it fast! Like, now. At this moment. Now.”

Me: “All right. In order for us to change your bank number, we need your signature. We have a form for that on our site, so you can download it and fill it in. You can mail it back at us to [email address].”

Caller: “I don’t know how to find that; I’m terrible with computers.”

Me: “I understand. Do you want me to mail it to you?”

Caller: “No, I don’t have a printer. Can’t I come pick one up?”

Me: “Unfortunately, our offices are closed due to lockdown. You could always ask someone else to print the form or go to the library, or I could send you one by post.”

Caller: “But that takes too long!”

Me: “I’m very sorry, but that are the options we have. We can’t change someone’s bank number without their signature.”

Caller: “Ugh, never mind. I’ll just print it myself!” *Ends the call abruptly*

Wait… didn’t she just say she didn’t have a printer?

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