The Costs Of Living A Modem Life

, , , , , , | Working | March 23, 2020

(I cancelled my Internet four months ago but didn’t realize I had to send back the modem. I start getting calls from a number and finally, after a week, I pick up.)

Me: “Hello?”

Representative: “Yes, we are calling on behalf of [ISP] to inform you that you owe $200.00.”

Me: “I cancelled my service months ago; that’s impossible.”

Representative: “Yes, but this is regarding the outstanding modem that you needed to return.”

Me: “I needed to return that? I thought I had bought it. Okay, no problem. Where do I return it to?”

Representative: *laughs at me* “Yes, obviously, you needed to return it. Now we will be taking your account to collections.”

Me: “This is the first that I’m hearing about this and you’re taking me to collections? And did you just laugh at me? Can I speak to your supervisor?”

Representative: *brief hold* “Yes, my supervisor said that he is unavailable and that there is nothing that can be done.”

Me: “Well, where do I mail it to? Is there a shipping label?”

(The representative proceeds to give me information to write on the box, which I know will then cost shipping charges.) 

Representative: “And you need to do this today.”

Me: “And this is the first I’m hearing of this and I need to do this today…”

(I ended the call. That’s the worst customer service I have received recently. I called their customer complaint line, avoided collections, got the proper tracking label, and returned the modem. Even their care team couldn’t understand the other person’s problem.)

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A Great Model To Keep Up With

, , , , | Learning | March 23, 2020

(This happened to my sister who runs a dance studio that also offers aerobics, Zumba, and other workout classes. One of her longtime clients and friends is a model who tends to draw attention to herself due to her oversized breast implants. This happens when my sister is teaching a Tae Bo class which is about half first-timers. Ten minutes before class starts:)

New Girl #1: *points to the model* “Hey, slut, this isn’t the strippercise class. This is for people who actually want to exercise.”

Model: “I know what class this is; I signed up because it compliments my boxing lessons.”

New Girl #2: *sarcastically* “Sure, whatever you say. Just don’t complain if you get tired and can’t keep up; you look like you’re carrying a bit of extra weight.”

(The model just stares at them quietly. According to my sister, variants of this joke have been levied at said model at least a dozen times before.)

Sister: “All right, girls, let’s get to it! First break isn’t for forty-five minutes.”

(Both new girls are absolutely exhausted by break time; neither one of them looks like they can even stand.) 

Model: *feigning worry* “Oh, dear! You seem beat. But how can that possibly be?! I mean, I’m carrying so much more extra weight and I still feel fine.”

(Both girls just glowered at her and tried to get up to finish the class. They lasted about ten minutes into the second half before they finally couldn’t take it and ducked out early.)

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Vegetables, And Uh… More Vegetables?

, , , , , , , | Working | March 10, 2020

(I’m waiting for a flight and grabbing a bite to eat at a well-known Canadian coffee chain. While I’m in line, I see a new menu item, but I don’t know what’s in it.)

Me: “Hi, what’s in [item]?”

Cashier: *punches in item* “That’ll be [price].”

Me: “What’s in it?”

Cashier: “Pardon?”

Me: “I don’t know what is in the [item].”

Cashier: *points to the sign overhead*

(I can’t see very well without my glasses, so the sign is only slightly helpful and I had seen it from the line to decide to ask about. In particular, there’s something on top of the wrap that looks like it could be potatoes, which I like, or eggs, which I hate, and I have no idea if there are small vegetables like diced onions, or any sauces.)

Me: “I can’t tell what’s in the picture.”

Cashier: *looking at the sign* “Lettuce, tomato, sausage, cheese, and vegetables.”

Me: “Vegetables? What vegetables?”

Cashier: “Lettuce and tomato.”

Me: “Okay… What about that thing on top?”

Cashier: “Vegetables. They’re… fried potatoes.”

Me: “Okay, I’ll get that.”

(It had sauce. No idea what kind. It was quite good, but I hate to think of if I’d had a food restriction.)

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Tell The Terrorists And Drug Smugglers To Take Weekends Off!

, , , , , | Working | March 10, 2020

(I am going through the carry-on security scanner at the airport and one of my bins is flagged. It contains only my laptop, my shoes, and my earbuds, and I have no idea what the scanner took issue with since they should all be fine.)

Me: *jokingly referring to the machine* “What did it get mad at?”

Security Dude: “I’m not mad at it. I’m just mad that I have to be here on a Saturday morning.”

(Fair, but should you really be telling me that?)

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Unfiltered Story #186922

, , , | Unfiltered | February 18, 2020

(I am buying some snacks at a convenience store in a rough neighbourhood that sells hot dogs. I look over and see a large man drop a hot dog on the floor. I also see three other dirty hot dogs on a nearby counter, so this isn’t his first dropped hot dog. He goes to pay for his hot dog (the fourth and last one) with me behind him in line.)

Customer: Here you go *hands cashier some change*

Cashier: This isn’t enough.

Customer: What do you mean!?

Cashier: You need to pay for the other three you dropped too.

Customer: THAT’S BULLSHIT!

(As he says that he drops the hot dog he’s holding.)

Customer: LOOK WHAT YOU MADE ME DO!

Cashier: How was I responsible for that?

Customer: You were distracting me!

Cashier: *sighs* That’s five hot dogs you’re going to pay for.

Customer: THERE’S NONE LEFT! Make me another!

Cashier: I don’t have any more hot dogs in the store. They’ve all been dropped on the floor. That’ll be $10.50.

(At this point the cashier beckons me to pay for my things and I walk over. All of a sudden two other people, the customer’s friends, jump out from somewhere else in the store and stand behind him, over my shoulder, to shout out the cashier.)

Customer’s friend #1: Who do you think you are!?

Customer’s friend #2: You’re just robbing poor people!

Customer: You’re a FUCKING THIEF!

Cashier: Leave now, before I call the cops.

(I left as soon as I could, and watched through the window as the three muscular men continued to shout at the cashier. I hope he did call the cops.)