It’s REAL-ly Long

, , , | Right | July 13, 2018

(I have long hair, which I am lucky enough to be able to wear down at work. I am counting out a big pension pickup for an older lady, slowly so as not to make any mistakes. As I am counting aloud to her, she interrupts.)

Customer: “Your hair is long.”

Me: “Thank you.”

(It’s not really a compliment, more of a sweet, obvious statement. I smile politely, before starting my count from the beginning, as I’ve lost my place. As I’ve nearly reached the total, she interrupts me again.)

Customer: “Your hair is long.”

(Again I smile politely, and begin counting again. She interrupts me twice more to remind me about my hair before I finish. I hand the cash over.)

Customer: “Is it real?”

(I honestly don’t think she paid attention to how much money I was giving her!)

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The Mother Can’t See The Light

, , , , , , | Right | July 13, 2018

(I am working on a photo op position during one of this tourist attraction’s special events. A child or about six or seven comes up to have their photo taken.)

Me: “Okay, if you can go and stand in the light for me?”

(The child goes to do so.)

Mother: “No, [Child]! Stay there and listen to the lady; she’s telling you what to do!”

(The child turns back to me, confused.)

Me: “It’s okay! Go and stand just where you were.”

(The child does.)

Mother: “No! Stay there! The lady is telling you what to do!”

(This happens several more times, and the child is clearly growing uncomfortable. I eventually raise my voice, despite her being close enough to have heard before.)

Me: “Don’t worry, [Child]! You were right the first time! Stand just there under the light, like you did!”

(She finally seemed to get the message, took her child’s picture, then walked straight off without an apology or a thank you.)

Unfiltered Story #116460

, | Unfiltered | July 13, 2018

It’s the day before Father’s Day. A teenage giel comes to the counter.

“Excuse me, have you got any Leonard Skinner?”.

“Um, I’ve not heard of him, do you know any of his songs?”.

“Yeah, Sweet Home Alabama”.

Will You Girls Just STOP?

, , | Right | July 12, 2018

(I watch this happen between two girls and the bus driver. The bus stops, passengers disembark. Literally two seconds after the bus starts moving, [Girl #1] presses the bell. After about 15 seconds, this happens.)

Girl #1: “Why isn’t he stopping?”

Girl #2: “I don’t know. You pressed the bell.”

Girl #1: *to the driver* “Are you stopping?”

Driver: “Yes, when I get to my stop.”

Girl #2: “But we need to get off here.”

(She starts pressing the bell repeatedly.)

Girl #2: “Why won’t he stop?!”

Girl #1: “He has to stop. He’s a bus!”

(Frantically ringing the bell.)

Me: “He’ll stop at the other end of the road, which is his stop.”

(Both girls stare at me like I have three heads.)

Girl #1: “But we need to get off here.”

Me: “This is a bus, not a taxi. He stops at predesignated stops, not in the middle of the street.”

(Turns to [Girl #2], who is still pressing the bell.)

Me: “And doing that won’t make him stop any sooner.”

(They glared at me and at the driver, then started whispering to each other. The bus stopped and they got off, giving me and the driver dirty looks. When I got to my stop, I thanked the driver, and we shared a laugh over the two stupid girls who still didn’t understand buses in their late teens.)

You Owe Me An Explanation

, , , , | Right | July 12, 2018

(I am on reception at a leisure centre that has various activities going on at once. It is very busy, as it is the Easter holidays, and it’s raining. An old lady comes up to the desk with her grandson:)

Customer: *in a very quiet voice* “What do I owe you?”

Me: *leaning towards her to be able to hear her* “Sorry?”

Customer: “What do I owe you?”

Me: *still with my head leaning over the counter and whispering too* “I don’t know. You haven’t told me what you want to do.”

Customer: *suddenly louder* “Well, I have never been here before, so I don’t know what to do!”

Me: *in my head* “Perhaps tell me what you want to do before I charge you! I have to do this mad, crazy thing called ‘put information into the till’!”

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