Mouth-y Mom And Tongue-y Tyke

, , , , , , | Right | August 19, 2018

(I am working as a cashier when a woman and little girl, maybe five years old, approach my register. The woman begins to unload her items while staring intently at her phone and ignoring the little girl. The girl starts running back and forth along the register belt with her tongue on the edge of the belt.)

Me: “Oh, sweetie, don’t put your mouth on that. It’s very dirty; you could get sick.”

Girl: *stops and looks at me, confused*

Woman: *looks up and gives me a death glare* “How dare you correct my child?!”

Me: “I’m sorry, it’s just that I don’t get to clean the register often, and people touch it and put packages of raw meat and other items like that on it all day. It’s probably covered with germs.”

Woman: “Look. No one tells my kid what to do but me; just keep your mouth shut and do your job!” *goes back to her phone*

Me: *goes back to scanning silently*

Girl: *looks at me smugly and goes back to licking the register belt*

Maybe Get A Transfer To CERN?

, , , , , | Working | August 19, 2018

(I’m in the stockroom with my coworker, opening boxes. It’s not going as quickly as I hoped it would, with only two of us working most of the day. It’s also been raining all day, and he only has maybe 30 minutes left of his shift, whereas I still have over an hour.)

Me: “Are we done yet?”

Coworker: “No.”

Me: “Ugh, I’m not going to be able to finish these by myself.”

Coworker: “Nah, you can do it.”

Me: “Not unless I get struck by lightning and become The Flash. I’d finish in, like, 30 seconds.”

Coworker: “Well, there are a bunch of metal rods over there. You could go stand outside for a while.”

Me: *makes a face* “I forgot; there was also a particle accelerator explosion. I can’t be Flash.”

(No matter how many times I’ve wished I were The Flash, it just doesn’t seem possible — let alone safe. Sigh.)

Don’t Lose Your Shirt Over It

, , , , | Right | August 19, 2018

(I work in a thrift store. Our policy is that we have a set price on all items within their category. For example: all children’s shirts are $2, all men’s shirt’s are $3.50, all women’s jeans are $4, etc. A man and his son come up my register with several kid’s shirts in a size large, and one shirt that is from a company that sells only adult clothing and is a size small.)

Me: “Your total today is $11.50.”

Customer: “Wait, you overcharged me for of those shirts! They’re supposed to be $2 each.”

Me: “Yes, sir, all of our children’s shirts are $2, but this one—” *removing shirt from the bag to show him* “—is an adult’s shirt, and costs $3.50.”

Customer: *starting to raise his voice* “That is not an adult shirt! Look at it! It is the exact same size as all the kid’s shirts there. My son tried it on, and it fit him, and he doesn’t wear adult sizes!”

Me: “Well, sir—” *checking labels* “—your other shirts are a size large and this is a size small, which is why they are pretty close in size. I can show you what a children’s size small looks like, for reference. Plus, the label here says [Store] and they only make adult’s clothing. I apologize for the confusion, but this does fall under our $3.50 pricing.”

Customer: “You are not going to scam me! There is no way that shirt is for an adult. I wear a size small. Do you think that shirt would fit me?!”

Me: “I’m not sure, but sizes do vary from company to company, and [Store]’s clothing does run on the smaller side.”

Customer: “It fits my kid, so it’s a kid’s size! You will not f****** lie to me and tell me that this is supposed to be for people my size!”

(The customer takes off the shirt he is wearing, gestures to his own torso, and then angrily throws his shirt at me. My manager sees this and rushes over.)

Manager: *to me* “What’s going on?”

Customer: “Your cashier is trying to scam me and sell me kid’s clothes for jacked-up prices!” *picks up the shirt in question* “Does this look like it would fit me?!”

Manager: “Sir, I cannot comment on what size clothing you wear, but that shirt is from a company that does not manufacture kid’s clothing. Also, we have a strict no shirt, no shoes, no service policy, and since you are no longer wearing a shirt, I will have to ask you to leave.”

Customer: “This is ridiculous! You’re all f****** idiots!”

(He stormed out shirtless, mumbling to himself. His son was clearly embarrassed.)

Time To Prescribe Some Patience

, , , | Friendly | August 19, 2018

(I have just left the doctor’s office and walked to the pharmacy to wait for a prescription to be sent over. The young girl at the register is on the phone, so I wait for her to acknowledge me.)

Cashier: “I’ll be right with you.”

Me: “Okay, thank you.”

(A few minutes pass.)

Cashier: “Okay, picking up?”

Me: “Yes, it was just sent over from [Doctor]. Last name, [Last name]. Born [birthday].”

Cashier: “Hmm, doesn’t look like it’s here yet. You can have a seat and wait, if you’d like.”

Me: “I’ll do that. Thank you.”

(I take a seat and begin scrolling through Facebook while I wait. The phone rings again. A woman comes in and goes right to the register.)

Cashier: “I’ll be right with you, ma’am.”

Woman: “I just left [Doctor], and she sent a medicine order over for me.”

Cashier: *nods, covers phone receiver* “Just a moment.”

Woman: “It’s under [Woman].”

Cashier: *nods, holds up one finger* “As soon as I’m done on the phone, ma’am.”

Woman: “It should be ready.”

Cashier: *nods*

Woman: “Ugh.” *turns to me* “Can you believe this service?”

Me: “I can.”

Woman: “What?”

Me: “Well, she’s clearly busy, and you were told many times that she would be with you after her phone call.”

Woman: “Why don’t you mind your own business?”

Me: “You asked.”

Woman: “The youth of today are so disrespectful! If you were my daughter, I’d have you over my knee for talking to me like that!”

Me: “Guess I’m lucky you’re irrelevant.”

Woman: “How dare you?!”

(I return to my Facebook browsing. The woman sits directly beside me, continuing her rant about disrespectful youth and poor customer service. The cashier hangs up and takes the woman’s information. Of course, it isn’t ready. She resumes her rant, pacing in front of the register.)

Cashier: “[My Name], your order is ready.”

Woman: “Where is mine?”

Cashier: “I’ll let you know as soon as yours is ready.”

Woman: “I’ve half a mind to take my business elsewhere!”

Me: “Don’t use it all in one place.”

Cashier: *trying to keep a straight face* “No copay, [My Name]. Have a good day.”

Halfway House Only Gets You Halfway There

, , , , , | Healthy | August 19, 2018

(I’m an EMT. My partner and I are called to a homeless shelter/halfway house for a “sick call.” This means a non-life-threatening issue. We arrive and unload the stretcher. There’s about ten stairs and a small elevator right inside the door. I start to open the door of the elevator when I’m greeted by staff.)

Staff: “You’re going to the second floor. Oh, that elevator doesn’t work.”

Me: “Okay. Do you have another one?”

Staff: “Sure, it’s up here around the corner.”

Me: “Great. How can I access it?”

Staff: “Come on up the stairs and go to the end of the hall.”

Me: “That’s not going to work. Do you have another access point? A ramp, maybe?”

Staff: “We have an elevator around the corner here.”

Me: “That’s great, but if this elevator doesn’t work, how am I going to get my stretcher to the second floor?”

Staff: *exasperated* “There’s an elevator right over here! Right around the corner.”

Me: “I understand that. But how would you like me to get my stretcher up these stairs to get to that elevator?”

Staff: *blank stare*

Me: *to my partner* “Let’s just leave it here, see the patient, and figure it out from there.”

(When we got to the other elevator it was so small our stretcher wouldn’t have fit, anyway, even if we folded the back.)

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