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You Saw The Signs

, , , , , | Right | June 24, 2022

I’m waiting for a friend at her work, standing around the back. It’s dingy, wet, and full of signs to keep clear, warnings, no smoking, no entry, etc.

A guy rushes out of one of the doors carrying something from the restaurant. He fairly aggressively questions me and, happy that I’m there for a good reason, warns me to keep clear as he will be coming through the doors and won’t be held responsible.

Fine, whatever. I can read; I was already well clear.

As I continue to wait, a woman walks over, stands uncomfortably close — right in front of me, like she is cutting in some imaginary line. Then, worse, she lights up a cigarette.

Me: “Can you move down a bit?”

Nothing, she just looks at me, not even a recognition that I spoke. Perhaps she doesn’t speak English?

Me: “You, move, that way?”

I do a “go away” motion with my hands.

She rolls her eyes at me. The door slams open and I take a small step back away from her. Almost in slow motion, a massive cooking pot hits the ground, and brown-grey water splashes toward us. I manage to stay dry, but it covers the woman’s shoes up to her knees.

Woman: “My new shoes! You f****** idiot! You stupid idiot!”

Guy: “Sorry, sorry. Are you okay?”

Woman: “Do I look okay? Look at my shoes!”

Guy: *To me* “You okay?”

Me: “I’m fine. I read the signs. Keep clear! Very obvious.”

This sent the woman into a rage; the noise and language were shocking.

After trying to force her way through the staff entrance, she marched off to the front of the restaurant to complain. Unfortunately, my friend turned up shortly afterward so I didn’t get to see the fallout.

You Do Not Have License To View

, , , | Right | June 22, 2022

You have to be eighteen to buy tobacco and paraphernalia, but like most shops, we have a “Challenge 25” policy, which means we have to ask anyone who looks under twenty-five for ID, just to be sure.

A young-looking man comes in and asks to buy some filter tips. I ask for his ID.

Customer: “I’m twenty-nine.”

Me: “Okay, but I need to ask anyone who looks under twenty-five. Congratulations!”

Customer: “I’ve got a photo on my phone.”

Me: “Sorry, but I can only accept a physical ID.”

He ignores me and pulls up a photo of a driving licence on his phone, which obviously I can’t accept, but this isn’t the first time someone’s tried this. After five minutes of back and forth, he starts going from quite friendly to clearly irritated.

Customer: “Okay, fine.”

He pulled the physical driving licence from the depths of his pockets, wrapped in a soft cloth. I guess it’s too good for the eyes of a humble retail worker most of the time?

Trying To Explain How Dates Work To The Letter

, , , , , | Right | June 22, 2022

I work as a customer support phone operator for a large insurance company. We send reminders through email and post running from one month up to the day before their policy is due to be renewed. Depending on how busy the postal service is, it can take a few days, a week, or even longer to reach customers.

I can’t even begin to count how many times I have had the exact same conversation.

Customer: “I just received a request for payment for this year! I already paid this on [date]! What are you trying to pull here?”

Me: “I’ll be more than happy to check that for you… and I do see that payment was taken successfully. You said you just got this letter? Can you tell me the date on it?”

Customer: “Well, it says here [date before he called to make payment], but I don’t see what that has to do with anything!”

I understand you’d be upset to pay twice, but if folks wouldn’t only take two seconds to read the paperwork we send, it would prevent a lot of hassle on both our parts.

These People Are Just Asking To Have Their Babies Stolen

, , , , , , | Right | CREDIT: IrrelevantQuantity | June 22, 2022

I worked for a couple of years at a major historic tourist attraction in London. It was good fun and I immensely enjoyed it, although things could sometimes be manic busy, and although most customers were friendly, some could be somewhat… unpleasant. It was tame as anywhere really. It also had some attractions for children, and while manning these I came to learn just how entitled — and irresponsible — some parents can truly be.

One of the features in the gardens was a maze. It was not particularly for children, although they could go in if they wanted and a lot of them liked it. Parents could take pushchairs in if they want, although the staff had the right to make parents leave pushchairs (strollers for Americans) outside if it got very busy inside.

That day was a hot summer Saturday, and it had been very busy. However, by the mid-afternoon, throughflow had thinned out a bit and I was manning the maze on my own as I had done before. I still had three or four groups coming through every minute, and I had made the decision to ask parents to leave their pushchairs outside the maze.

A lady stalked up to me with her ticket and a baby in a pushchair. I scanned her ticket but politely told her that she needed to leave her pushchair outside. She huffed at me and put her pushchair in a line with all the others. Meanwhile, another group of tourists had come up and I was busy scanning their tickets. I paid little attention to the lady as she walked past. However, as I rapidly scanned through all the new tourists, I glanced at her pushchair and realised… the baby was still inside!

I quickly ran into the maze, and after only a few seconds, I saw the lady. She saw me and hissed angrily.

Lady: “What are you doing here? I’ve left my baby out there with you!”

Me: “I know, and you’re not allowed to do that. You’ll have to come out and take the baby in with you.”

Lady: “But can’t you look after him?”

My duties in the maze included scanning tickets, selling tickets, advising visitors, and managing the many groups of unruly French, German, and Spanish teenagers on language exchanges. My duties did not include looking after babies.

Me: “Madam. I’m here to look after the maze. I’m not here to perform babysitting services for you! I have to walk around quite a bit and I cannot spend all my time looking after your baby. Children, including babies, are allowed in the maze, but not pushchairs. I’m afraid you’ll either have to take the baby with you or leave the maze.”

Lady: *Whining* “It’s the first break from him I’ve had all day!”

Me: “Nonetheless, if you won’t come and get your baby, I’m going to have to call security.”

The baby had been unattended for more than a minute now. As I spoke, I brought my radio up to my mouth and hovered my finger over the send button.

Me: “Also, you don’t know me. How do you know I’m not some old paedophile you’ve left your kid with?”

Just to be clear, I’m not.

She had no answer.

Me: “Now, are you going to get your baby, or do I have to call security?”

She snorted and angrily marched out of the maze and grabbed the baby, who luckily was still there. In hindsight, I should have just called security and let them deal with it and not let the baby out of my sight, regardless of what a b**** his mother was, but all was well that ended well.

She ended up taking the baby around the maze, and about twenty minutes later, she came to get the (now empty) pushchair. The look of pure hate she gave me would have alarmed The Rock, but luckily, off she went and I was not troubled by her again.

You are supposed to always want customers to come back again, but there are some exceptions. She was definitely one of them.

Not Delivering On Delivery. Not Even A Little.

, , , , | Working | June 21, 2022

I’ve had a long day at work and don’t feel like cooking, so I order some takeaway using a well-known app. After a certain time, I get a call from the delivery driver.

Driver: “Hi, I’m at [Location]. I need you to come out to me.”

Me: “But that’s over a mile away. My address is [address].”

Driver: “I know, but I don’t want to walk through the park. There are some teenagers playing football there.”

Me: “You don’t need to walk through the park. There’s a road round the outside. You can drive.”

Driver: “Well, I’m parked now, so just get down here!”

Me: “No. You’re being paid to deliver to the door. Now phone me back when you’re here!”

I ring off so he can’t respond. Shortly afterward, the app informs me that he’s marked my food as delivered. I inform the company that it has not been. They apologise and refund me. Not long afterward, I get an angry call from the driver.

Driver: “Oh, thanks a bunch. Now they’ve fired me!”

Me: “You should have done your job, then!”