I worked at a small charity running holidays for children. As we ran some holidays in France, we had a French bank account so that French parents could pay in euros. One day the elderly and rather confused boss stormed in to complain that he had been looking at the French bank statement and was horrified to see that a German family had paid into it.
“It’s only for French euros, not German euros,” he said.
(I work in a call centre for a company that arranges hire vehicles for people who have been in no-fault accidents. As such, we handle sensitive information. We work with a specific hire company. Recently, we have enjoyed getting calls from people claiming to be from the hire company’s “archive team,” which doesn’t exist. They are clearly trying to obtain information. One day this happens:)
Me: “Good morning. You’re through to [My Name] at [Company]; how can I help?”
Person: “Good morning. I’m calling on behalf of a mutual client.”
Me: “Can I take the client’s registration?”
Person: *registration*
Me: “Thank you. Can I also take your name and where you’re calling from?”
Person: “[Person] from [Hire Company] archive team.”
Me: *immediately on guard* “Hello. Unfortunately, you’re not listed on the file so I can’t discuss the claim with you, but I see my colleague asked you to email us… five minutes ago, actually. Did you do that?”
(She hangs up. I write my notes into the file and send an email to my team advising they’re at it again. Next call I receive…)
Me: “Good morning. You’re through to [My Name] at [Company]; how can I help?”
Person: “Good morning. I’m calling on behalf of a mutual client.”
Me: *recognising their voice* “Can I take the registration, please?”
Person: “Yes, it’s [same info as before].”
Me: “Oh, hi. I think it was me you were speaking to just a few moments ago; is that [Person]?”
(She hung up. Honestly, how stupid do you have to be to try it a third time, minutes later, even when it’s obvious we’re onto you?)
(I am attending a family dinner at my grandmother’s house for her birthday. My nephew is trying to keep himself entertained by talking with everyone. At the moment he’s talking with my estranged great aunt.)
Great Aunt: “So, [Nephew], do you know what your daddy does? Your mummy won’t tell me.”
Nephew: “He’s a drag queen!”
Great Aunt: “WHAT?! [Sister], is this true?!”
Sister: *who has been talking to my grandmother* “What? Sorry, I wasn’t listening.”
Great Aunt: “That your husband, [Husband], your husband, is a drag queen?“
Sister: “No, he’s a drag racer on the weekends. He’s an accountant during the week. [Nephew] probably got them mixed up. He likes watching the lip syncs on that drag race show.”
(My great aunt looks beside herself in horror. I decide to add to it.)
Me: “It’s a shame. Having a drag queen in the family would be great.”
Grandmother: *looking at [Husband] in the kitchen* “He’s got the legs for it.”
Sister: “Oh, I know! Those legs are like steel. But he’s clumsy as f***. He trips up on air!”
(The rest of us laugh while [Great Aunt] grows redder in the face. An hour later she gets up to leave. She doesn’t say goodbye or anything.)
Me: “What’s her problem?”
Grandmother: “She’s always been a b****. When [Great Uncle] was discharged after being outed, she cut him out of all her family pictures. I decided to return the favour, but mailed her all the cut outs with her eyes stabbed out.”
(This is how I learned how my great aunt came to be estranged. While my family is crazy, it’s nice to know most of them have good morals. I also learned my nephew’s favourite drag queen was Peppermint, who is also my favourite.)
(I have gotten into work after a three-day weekend due to a May bank holiday. I am making myself a coffee while another colleague is getting herself some cereal.)
Colleague: “Ugh, this milk stinks!“
Me: *seeing the label* “It expired on Saturday. I think there’s a new one downstairs we could use.”
Colleague: “Who would put expired milk back in the fridge? That’s so disrespectful.”
Me: “I doubt it was intentional. No one was here over the weekend, and the cleaners usually empty out the fridges on Monday before we get in.”
Colleague: “THEN WHY DIDN’T THEY?”
Me: “It was a bank holiday.”
Colleague: “That holiday is for us. Not the help!”
(I doubt this is intentional as “the help” isn’t really a common phrase around here, and I only know of it from American TV. The cleaner, however, is black, and I can’t help but think she’s being intentionally racist. This is confirmed when the cleaners come around at midday, and she makes a beeline for the black cleaner.)
Colleague: “Do your f****** job. I don’t want s*** stinking up my food. If I find another bottle of that crap in that fridge, so help me, you’ll wish you had been deported.” *storms away*
(We all complained about her and she made a public apology. It wasn’t well-received, however, after she blamed her behaviour on her husband’s affair with a South African woman — who was white — that she discovered over the weekend. Because the woman was African, [Colleague] developed an irrational hatred of black people. She no longer works with us, and the office is a lot calmer.)
(I’m the customer, paying for a £1.49 pack of greetings cards. I hand my coins, £1 + 50p + 5p + 2p + 1p + 1p, to the cashier.)
Me: “Here’s £1.59.”
Another Customer: *in a tone that says, “You moron!”* “He said £1.49. Why are you giving him £1.59?”
Me: *answering factually, as if it were a genuine question* “He’ll give me 10p change. I’ll have fewer coins in my pocket, and he’ll have some change for other customers.”
Cashier: *handing me 10p* “I wish more customers were like you.”
