He Is Stick-ing To His Plan  

, , , , | Right | January 12, 2020

(When my dad is at university, one of his friends, [Friend #1], is blind, and his other friend, [Friend #2], is known for doing pretty bad stuff when he’s had a few drinks. One night, after they’ve been out for a large amount of beer, they get hungry and stop at the local chip shop, which is next to a university and so is full of people at 3:00 am. [Friend #2] decides he doesn’t want to wait in line, so he grabs [Friend #1]’s blind stick and walks to the front of the line, in a trick I’m sure everyone has heard of. After he is served, my dad starts to help [Friend #1] into the shop, since [Friend #2] only got food for himself, and [Friend #1] trips over the doorstep.)

Counter Guy: *laughing* “You’d almost think he was the blind one.”

Friend #1: “I am; that p***k has my stick!”

(To quote my dad when he told this story, “It’s amazing how quickly you sober up when a six-foot bloke from a chip shop chases you down the road.” The guy also gave [Friend #1] free chips, not realising they were friends. I’d like to make it clear that they didn’t plan this; it just kind of worked out in [Friend #1]’s favour. Thirty years later, my dad is still good friends with both, and they’re both great people, but it’s fun to remember that your parents can be as bad as you sometimes.)

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Wizard Of Thrones

, , , , , | Related | January 11, 2020

(We are watching “The Wizard Of Oz” on TV.)

Eight-Year-Old: “Mummy, they need a brain, a heart, and… what does the lion need?”

Me: “Well, think about it; if the lion is scared of everything, what does he need to feel powerful?”

Eight-Year-Old: “A sword!”

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You… Are… An… A**hole…

, , , | Right | January 10, 2020

(I have been standing in line at the post office for just over an hour, waiting to get a parcel posted. The post office cashier is Indian; she speaks English very well but has a slight accent. Two teenage girls are standing at the front of the queue, gossiping away.)

Cashier: *to the teen girls* “Hello, can I help you today?”

Girl #1: *scoffing* “Why else would I be here?”

Girl #2: *whispering to [Girl #1], loudly enough for everyone to hear* “I can barely understand her. Why do they even hire their kind, anyway?”

Cashier: *visibly upset, but continues to try to do her job* “What would you like to send today?”

Girl #1: *speaking loudly and slowly to the cashier* “I… need… this… box… to… go… to… dis… place. You… read… no?”

Cashier: *trying to ignore their rudeness* “Please place it on the scale.”

Girl #2: “No… you… take… box… you… curry… eater.”

(This exchange goes on for a while, with the cashier asking them to put the parcel on the scale and them refusing point-blank, talking to her in the insulting slow tone. I have finally had enough. Stepping forward, I mimic the girls’ tone of voice.)

Me: “No… she… wants… you… to… put… box… on… metal… thing.”

Girl #1: “Why are you talking to us like that, b****?”

Me: “Oh, sorry, just from the way you were talking, I thought you might be a bit slow.”

Girl #2: “No, the cashier is the stupid one!” *stomping her feet like a child*

Me: *patronisingly* “Yes, yes, okay, sweetie. Put your box on the scale now.” *she puts it on the scale with me watching over* “Aww, who’s a big girl? Now pay the nice lady, apologize, and walk out.”

(The girls do as I say, beet red at being confronted, and finally, they leave.)

Cashier: “Thank you. They always come in here to harass me.”

(Apparently, they never returned to harass the woman again.)

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Government Plan Fails Hard: Shocking  

, , , , | Working | January 9, 2020

Our town has recently had some construction in the city centre, with some new roads added that lead away from the main high street and force cars to loop around an extra five miles just to leave the town centre.

For years, there has been a through road that people use to cut through. It’s located around the back entrance of some of the larger shops. It has two lanes with traffic lights on the end. It is a very popular road as it cuts the journey through town down by about ten minutes in traffic.

My store was located on the through road, and the delivery area where employees parked their cars led directly to the road.

After construction, there were new signs on all of the roads that stated a height restriction on vehicles because of “emissions.” This was the only sign located on the road.

After a week of work, I came home to seven envelopes with a £75 fine and a photo of my car leaving work. I was naturally livid, because there was no signage. I had full right to be there as I worked on the road and even had a parking pass fully displayed in all of the photos.

It all seemed like a mess, so I appealed the ticket and, luckily, did not have to pay.

I mentioned it to some friends and they had all been ticketed. They had appealed and gotten let off their tickets, too.

The next week, the local paper showed the road in question and explained how the local council had issued fines totalling almost one-million pounds over the first month of the restrictions. Said restrictions were not legally enforceable because there was no signage to state that cars couldn’t drive on the road. It also mentioned that the height restriction would mean that many of the businesses would have to go out of business because they couldn’t let lorries through with the new height restriction.

The council had to refund up to one million pounds worth of travel tickets and remove the restrictions.

No one knew if it was a bid to get more money from traffic tickets or to relieve congestion in the city centre, but whatever it was, it failed hard.

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An Interruption Combustion

, , , , | Working | January 9, 2020

(My local hardware store sells rope by the metre. You pull off however much you need and cut it with a device bolted to the shelf, something like heavy-duty scissors. Unfortunately, they never seem to work and I always have to ask staff to cut it. I have been a regular here for over two years.)

Me: “Hi. Is there a shift manager or someone I can speak to? I have a complaint.”

Cashier: “Sure, one second.” *on tannoy* “Duty manager to customer service, duty manager to customer service.”

(A young man my age appears. I read his name tag.)

Me: “Hi, [Duty Manager], I’m [My Name]. You see the lengths of rope charged per metre in aisle—”

Duty Manager: “Yeah, those?”

Me: “Every time I try and buy some rope, which I’ve done about six times, the scissors on the shelf—”

Duty Manager: “You need a staff member.”

Me: “I figured. What I was going to say was, there never seems to be a blade in those scissors and—”

Duty Manager: “Health and safety; no sharp objects on the shop floor. Do you need rope cut?”

Me: “No, I’ve already—”

Duty Manager: “So, we’re good here?”

Me: “Look, no offence, mate but can I please explain my perspective as the customer without being interrupted?”

Duty Manager: “I know what you’re going to say.”

Me: “No, you don’t, but even if you did, I am the customer. You should listen to what I have to say.”

Employee #2: *to me* “Excuse me, sir.” *to the duty manager* “Hey, [Duty Manager], can I ask…” *asks a simple question*

(The duty manager supplies a one-line answer.)

Employee #2: *to me* “Apologies, sir.”

Me: “So, as I was saying: the fact that the rope obviously needs to be cut, the scissors are there, but never have blades—”

Duty Manager: “Like I said, health and safety.”

Me: “Could you please stop interrupting me?”

Duty Manager: “I’m getting to the point.”

Me: “Whatever. If the scissors aren’t going to be there, they shouldn’t be there in the first place. Why don’t you have a sign for—”

Duty Manager: “We haven’t put one up yet. Is there anything else?”

Me: “Can I speak to somebody else, please?”

Duty Manager: “No, I am the duty manager. Why are you being aggressive?”

(Bear in mind, this conversation happens in full view of customers at the main entrance.)

Me: “Huh? Look, mate, no offence, but I’m not happy with your attitude and how you are handling my complaint.”

Duty Manager: “I’m getting to the point. Stop being aggressive.”

Me: “Aggressive? That’s a serious allegation to make against a customer with a legitimate complaint. On what grounds do you feel that I am being aggressive? Have I raised my voice?”

Duty Manager: “It’s case closed. If you want rope cut, ask a staff member.”

(A young female sales assistant, [Employee #3], is waiting to speak to the duty manager.)

Me: *to [Employee #3]* “Excuse me, miss, could I ask you to—”

Duty Manager: “I outrank her.”

Me: “I’m aware of that. I would like her to listen to our conversation as a witness.”

Duty Manager: “It’s best if you—”

Me: “Listen to me very, very carefully. Do you think this is an appropriate way to speak to anyone?”

Duty Manager: “I’ve told you how it—”

Me: “You know other customers, and your employees, can hear this, right? We’re at the main entrance of the warehouse.”

Duty Manager: “If you want rope cut, ask—”

Me: “I would like to speak to your manager, please.”

Duty Manager: “I’m the manager.”

Me: “I am sure that in a national chain, someone earns more than you do. Who do I complain to about you?”

Duty Manager: “Customer services.”

Me: “I want the contact details for the branch manager, or failing that, area manager.”

Duty Manager: “I don’t have to give you anything.”

(I’m not getting anywhere, and I give up. Two days later, I’m back. I ask for a “popular manager.”)

Me: “Hey, no offence, mate, but one of your managers gave me a truckload of attitude on Friday. Can I speak to somebody really high up?”

Employee #4: “You can speak to [Employee #5]. He isn’t exactly a manager, though.”

Employee #6: “Is this about [Duty Manager]?”

Me: “You heard about this?”

Employee #6: “Oh, yes, we all did.”

Me: “Manager or not, I want someone trustworthy enough that when they pass on my complaint, I will be believed.”

Employee #6: “Senior management will definitely listen, no matter your complaint. I’ll call them down.”

(A man aged about twenty-one appears.)

Employee #7: “Hello, Mr. [My Surname]. Would you like a coffee? I’ll take your details and email it in full to the branch manager.”

(He spent fifteen minutes taking my complaint in full, while I drank a cappuccino. Patience of a saint. A day later, I got a phone call back from the branch manager. He said he would use the incident as a “learning point.” That guy is still on the duty manager roster. He is still the manager of his department, working every day I am in the store. The staff suspect he won’t be there much longer.)

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