What Next? Steps You Have To Walk Up?

, , , | Right | January 13, 2020

A political party regularly books some of our rooms for an evening meeting. Some of them stay until the end, but there’s always some small groups who leave earlier. I’m working the reception desk alone and so, when I go away from the desk to get a coffee, I turn the automatic doors off — they can still be easily opened from the inside.

I come back to the desk with my coffee to find that the foyer lights are off and a small group is gathered at the door panicking about being locked in. They’d tried the light switches to see if they opened the door but none of them had thought of just pushing the doors.

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Unfiltered Story #182269

, | Unfiltered | January 13, 2020

(My girlfriend and I both work for the Ambulance Service. She’s a paramedic in uniform, I’m in plain office clothes. We’re in a supermarket, looking at pizzas, when an old lady comes up.)
Lady: *to girlfriend, but glancing at me* Excuse me, I’m sorry to bother you while you’re with another patient, but I’ve been having a problem with my foot.
Girlfriend: Ah, I’m afraid I can’t really help you if it’s not an emergency. I’m not on duty at the moment.
Lady: Well it is an emergency! (It is clearly not)
Girlfriend: Ok… well how about you tell me what the problem is, and I’ll see if I can help?
Lady: My foot is very itchy, and I don’t know why. Before you say it, it isn’t my tights! It’s been itchy for a few days. I’m sure it’s a rash. *starts fiddling with her shoe, like she’s trying to take it off*
Girlfriend: Have you tried visiting the walk-in centre? There’s one on [road]. You don’t need an appointment, and the doctors there will be able to take a look at it. They can prescribe you something to help.
Lady: No. Stop being lazy! You’re here right now, so why can’t you help me?
Girlfriend: Because this isn’t an emergency. Even if it was, I wouldn’t have the facilities to do more than just help until an actual ambulance arrived.
Lady: I don’t think it needs an ambulance. It’s just annoying me a lot. What are you going to do about it?
(The lady actually takes off her shoe, and shows us her foot. It looks like a perfectly normal foot, except for a red patch – seemingly from repeated scratching. She keeps going on about how annoying it is and how she needs medical attention, until my girlfriend finally insists that she go to the walk-in centre or make an appointment with her GP. The old lady leaves in a huff.)
Girlfriend: I’m going to start changing out of my uniform when I finish shift… (this isn’t the first time something like this has happened)

Entitlement That Stretches To The Sun And Back

, , , | Right | January 13, 2020

(I work at an amusement park. Every week, we run an event where we’re open late with lots of entertainment and a firework finale. The show is aimed at kids so we’re aware it’s a late night for them. We lose count of how many times we get asked this question, but this woman is a new level of special!)

Customer: “Excuse me. What time are the fireworks?”

Me: “We’ll set them off as soon as it’s dark enough, as early as we can.”

Customer: “Well, what time will that be?”

Me: “It will probably be about 9:00 pm; there will be an announcement just before so you have time to get a good spot.”

Customer: “That’s ridiculous! Why would you have them so late?!”

Me: “Sorry, but it’s not dark enough until then.”

Customer: “Don’t be so stupid! This is a kids’ park! How can you expect them to stay up so late?!”

Me: “I’m sorry, but it has to be dark so you’re able to see the fireworks. We can’t let them off until the sun’s setting or you wouldn’t see them.”

Customer: “This is so ridiculous! My grandson was looking forward to the fireworks! Now he’s going to be disappointed because you’re refusing to set them off any earlier!”

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Sadly, Our Space Is Not A Safe Space

, , , , , | Right | January 12, 2020

(We have a regular customer who is disabled and prefers to sit on a specific sofa in our coffee shop because it’s more comfortable for her. She always comes in at a low-traffic time so that sofa is usually free – no problems. Today, I’ve taken her tea and toast over to her and am back at the till serving more customers when I see a lady with her kid come in, go over to the sofa, and point at our regular.)

Customer: “Right, you need to move.”

Regular: “Err, sorry, what?”

Customer: “That’s our seat.”

Regular: *looking around at almost empty shop* “There are loads of other seats and I just sat down.”

Customer: “No, we always sit here. My kid’s autistic and can’t handle sitting anywhere else.”

Regular: “As you can see–” *points to walking aids* “–I can’t exactly jump up and move, anyway. Look, I’ll be about half an hour, so if you come back later the seat will be free, then.”

Customer: “No. You can sit anywhere else. My son can’t.”

(She then picks up our regular’s food and drink and puts it down on a nearby table!)

Regular: “What the bloody h*** are you playing at?!”

(I manage to get one of the other staff over to take over the till while I go over to sort this. I give our regular back her food and drink.)

Me: “Okay, ma’am, you can’t just take other people’s food and drink.”

Customer: “She’s in our space.”

Me: “With all due respect, it’s not your space. Either stop bothering this lady and sit somewhere else or leave.”

Customer: “We have to sit here! My son has autism! This [disabled slur] here can sit anywhere; we can’t!”

Me: “Okay, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. You’re causing a scene.”

Customer: “That’s discrimination! Get me your manager.”

Me: “No. Get out.”

Customer: “I bet she wouldn’t need a whole sofa if she wasn’t so f****** fat, anyway.”


Customer: “I’m going to get you fired!”

Me: “Get out or I’m calling the police.”

(She did leave then, swearing her head off about how “fat isn’t disabled.” I asked our regular if she was okay and she gave me a fiver, “as a tip, and a thank-you for getting my tea back!” I’d never seen that lady nor her kid before!)

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Dealing With Customers Comes With A Price  

, , , | Right | January 12, 2020

(I work in a well-known high-fashion brand shop, in the accessories department. My job is to help customers find what accessory they want, whether it be a fancy bag, scarf, hat, jewellery, etc. We also get a commission for this and have to acquire a certain amount in the tills. A well-to-do, uppity woman comes stalking in and makes a beeline for me.) 

Customer: “You there! I’m looking for a burgundy bag to match my shoes! And I want you to help me!” *snaps fingers at me* 

Me: *trying not to be insulted by the gesture* “Of course. First of all, what style and size would you like? And any particular material? And also, do you have a certain price range you are wanting to spend today?”

Customer: “Price doesn’t matter, and I don’t care what style or size. I just want a bag to match my—” *talks slowly to me like a baby* “—buuuurgunnddyyyyy shoes!”

(I proceed to pick up and show her every single burgundy bag in stock, which she turns down for either being “the wrong size,” “not the right colour,” or “too floppy or stiff.” I finally find a bag in a very expensive well-known brand, which she starts ogling at.) 

Customer: *in utter excitement* “Oh, my goodness! This is the exact bag I want! It’s perfect! Oooh, I’ll take it!”

(We proceed to the tills, but not before she asks the price. The next thing I know, her tone completely changes as soon as she sees the price tag.) 

Customer: *throws hands in the air* “UGH! Why on Earth would you make me try to buy this?! It’s far too expensive! I am not buying this!”

(She proceeded to curse at me and storm out of the shop, leaving me in utter disbelief. It made me wonder why I wasted half an hour of my time on her. She even said she wasn’t bothered about the price range. Some people.)

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