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Good For You?

, , , , | Right | June 16, 2022

It is the second of January and it’s just me at the checkout. I leave the checkout to sort out an aisle for a few moments and a customer finds me.

Customer: “Is anyone serving?”

Me: “That’ll be me. Apologies for the delay. We’re short-staffed due to illness.”

Customer: *Accusingly* “Well… I never get ill…”

Lemonade Betrayed

, , | Right | June 16, 2022

I’m kind of the bad customer in this story.

At the pub I would regularly go to with my friends, I would sometimes be given a lemonade that tasted “wrong.” The first time this happened, I said:

Me: “Excuse me. I think you’ve accidentally given me a diet lemonade instead of a normal one.”

The staff just made me a new lemonade, I tasted it to make sure it was right, and we all moved on with our lives. Whenever the lemonade tasted wrong again, I told the staff they had given me diet by accident.

Today, I’m at a different pub with my family. I order my usual lemonade and take a sip. It’s the exact same “wrong” taste, so I say what I usually say.

Me: “Excuse me. You’ve accidentally given me a diet lemonade instead of a normal one.”

Employee: “No, I didn’t.”

Me: “But I just tasted this, and it’s diet.”

Employee: “That’s not possible. We don’t have diet lemonade.”

Me: “Well, you clearly do, because I’m holding it right here.”

The back and forth continues for a few minutes, with my tone of voice getting progressively more abrasive, until the employee calls a manager over to deal with me.

Manager: “What’s the problem?”

Me: “I asked for a lemonade, but I’ve been given a diet one.”

Manager: “We don’t sell diet lemonade.”

Me: “But this is a diet lemonade. I don’t want a diet lemonade; I want a normal one.”

Manager: “You have a normal lemonade.”

Me: *Gritting my teeth by this point* “It tastes like a diet lemonade.”

Manager: “It cannot be diet because we don’t sell diet.”

Me: “Well, it tastes wrong!”

At this point, the manager pours a bit of lemonade into a shot glass and tastes it.

Manager: *To the employee* “The syrup’s out.” *To me* “Give us a moment and we’ll get you a new one.”

Me: “Finally. Thank you.”

After they sorted the syrup, my lemonade tasted fine. I went back to the table my family was at.

Me: “I think maybe I can’t actually taste the difference because it was a syrup thing and not diet.”

Dad: “I can’t believe you actually spoke to them like that.”

Me: “Like what?”

Dad: “You were getting quite aggressive with your words there.”

Me: “I wasn’t being aggressive; I just wanted my lemonade to be right.”

Dad: “Yeah, but you should’ve been nicer about it.”

I know I was getting annoyed, but I hadn’t quite realised how bad I was behaving until afterward.

Cresting The Waves Of Entitlement

, , , | Right | June 14, 2022

Part of my job is to confirm details of winners that ring up to claim prizes. It’s a nice part of the job, but you do come across a few idiots.

I’ve not long ended a call from someone who hadn’t won — hadn’t in fact entered this month’s competition at all. But because he had played “so many games” in the past, we should just give him the prize.

It was a far longer conversation than it needed to be, and I was looking forward to making someone happy instead of angry.

On the next phone call, I go through the script, confirm his details, and… we have a winner!

Me: “Congratulations, I can confirm you are this month’s first prize winner. Before we move on to delivery details, did you have any questions?”

Caller: “What did I win?”

I’m sure I’ve explained this at least twice; in fact, the competition is named (as always) after the main prize. But people react differently, so I’m happy to explain, again.

Me: “Of course! It’s a [Model] jetski. It’s top of the line and comes fully fueled and in a racing red.”

Caller: “What else you got?”

Me: “I’m sorry?”

Caller: “Well, I don’t live anywhere near the sea. Why would I want a jetski?”

Me: “We don’t offer alternatives, I’m afraid. The jetski is waiting to be sent to you.”

Caller: “Nah, what’s the second prize?”

Me: “You didn’t win the second prize, so I can’t offer it to you.”

Caller: “Why not?”

I wanted to tell him, “Because you didn’t win it!” or, “Because you don’t pick and choose your prize,” or even, “Because the other person could have already claimed theirs.”

Me: “I’m sorry, the prizes are non-transferable. Do you still want the jetski?”

Caller: “I guess so, but I’m just going to sell it.”

Me: “I completely understand, but I’m afraid that is the competition you entered.”

He grumbled and accepted his fate. I understand if we had swapped the prize at the last moment, but this was a competition to win a jetski!

Featuring Stan Lee As The Bartender

, , , , , , , | Friendly Working | June 13, 2022

This story took place on the night of my nineteenth birthday party, which was more years ago than I’d care to count now. I have been a fan of Marvel comics since a young age and worked part-time in a comic book shop at the time. So, for a gag, one of my friends bought me a five-foot-tall inflatable Spider-Man.

Being students, we went to our local student union and I decided to inflate Spider-Man and put him on one of the chairs at the table. There were plenty to spare, so it wasn’t robbing anyone of a chair; I know that Peter wouldn’t have approved of that. He attracted quite a bit of attention and laughter, particularly when he got his own pint of beer. However, then, the night took a turn.

A guy ran over to our table, picked Spider-Man up, and then ran to the door. At first, I thought he was pranking us because he stopped at the door and turned back with a big grin, so I got up to walk over, and just as I was opening my mouth to say, “Very funny,” he sprinted out of the door! Several of my friends and I put down our drinks and ran out of the bar after him, but he had a head start and there were several different routes he could have taken, so we had to split up and each took a different path.

I couldn’t find him, but five minutes later one of my friends came back, triumphant, with Spider-Man under his arm! He told us that he caught up to the guy, who decided that an inflatable novelty was worth stealing but not fighting over, so he dropped it and ran off again. Thinking that was the end of it, we turned to go back into the bar only to be stopped by the bouncer.

Bouncer: “You guys are barred for tonight. Leave.”

Me: “What? Why?”

Bouncer: “You know why.”

Me: “No, actually, I really don’t. Somebody stole this—” *lifts up Spider-Man* “—from me so we just ran out to get it back. Why are we getting barred because someone stole from us?”

Bouncer: “You broke all of your glasses on the way out!”

Me: “No, we didn’t! Why would we do that? And if we had, why would we be dumb enough to come back after doing that?”

The bouncer stepped away to talk to the management on the radio for a moment before coming back.

Bouncer: “Okay, you can come in, but you have to deflate Spider-Man. He was causing too much excitement.”

When we got back to the rest of our friends, they explained that someone (presumably a friend of the thief) had picked up our glasses where we had each left them to run out, finished our drinks, and then just dropped the glasses, breaking them, before running out as well. Apparently, the bouncer had been given a garbled version of that story, hence his initial reluctance to let us back in.

Anyway, those acts of d****ebaggery aside, at least I got to tell the story about how we rescued Spider-Man on my birthday!

For His Patients’ Sakes, We Really Hope That Sandwich Helped!

, , , , , | Right | June 12, 2022

I work at a little shop located inside a hospital. We sell cold sandwiches.

Customer: “I’d like this sandwich heated, please.”

Me: “I’m afraid we only sell cold sandwiches.”

Customer: “But… I’m a doctor.”

Me: “Okay? We don’t have any means to heat sandwiches in this shop.”

Customer: *Slightly different tone* “But… I’m a doctor…”

Me: “Be that as it may, we don’t have a microwave or an oven.”

Customer: *Yet another slightly different tone* “But I’m… a doctor.”

Me: “So… just the sandwich, then?”

The customer blankly scans his card on the reader and walks out of the store, looking dazed and confused.

Customer: “But… I’m… a doctor?”