Rules Don’t Bend In The Wind

, , , , | Friendly | September 14, 2017

When I was really young, my parents had to take me everywhere with them, as we were poor and could only afford childcare whilst both of them were working. Often the childcare role was filled by family.

Once, when I was about three, my dad took me with him to the bank. It was one of those banks where the tellers were out on the floor with you around a little table. I was standing between my dad and the teller when the teller passed gas. I heard it, as I was so short my head was at about the teller’s waist, but my father did not, and the embarrassed teller didn’t say anything about it.

So, as my father had done to me many times before to teach me my manners, although perhaps in a less sassy, exaggerated way, I looked up at her, put my hands on my hips, and said, “What do you say???”

The woman blushed the most vibrant shade of red and quietly said, “Excuse me,” while my father could hardly contain his laughter. It’s a story he can’t recount without laughing to this day.

That Opinion Is Always With Me, Always With You

, , | Learning | September 14, 2017

(My English & Literature teacher for my sophomore year of high school tells us we will have to write a research paper on an American person who had a significant impact on American pop culture. I mishear the time-frame and get to work on it the next week, and turn it in the following week. It isn’t technically assigned for another month, but my strong motivation to do the assignment isn’t what my teacher cares about; she cares about my choice of topic.)

Teacher: *as class is starting* “This is really early. And who is this about? Who is Joe Satriani?”

Me: “He’s a famous guitar player.”

Teacher: “The assignment was that it has to be an American who impacted American pop culture. I don’t think this Joe Santorini guy is famous enough.”

Me: “He’s actually pretty famous. And American.”

Teacher: “What has he done of significance?”

Me: “He was a major name in the rise of ‘virtuoso’ guitar playing from the 80’s, for one.”

Teacher: *to the class* “How many of you have heard of Joe . . .”

Me: “Satriani.”

Teacher: “…Satriani?”

(About two-thirds of the hands go up.)

Teacher: “How can I not have heard of this guy?”

Classmate: “He’s a famous guitar player. He also taught a bunch of other famous guitar players how to play.”

Teacher: “Well, I’ve never heard of him, so you’ll have to pick someone else. Everyone else has to clear their topic with me before starting that paper.”

Unfiltered Story #93701

, , | Unfiltered | September 14, 2017

(It’s roughly the year 2000 and our clothing store doesn’t have the now-common, self-serve card reader setups, nor did we have a “debit” option. Back then, you ran debit cards as credit cards nearly all the time, and at our store it was the only way we could run them. The “run as debit” option was becoming more common, though, and many customers were getting used to expecting it. They’d hand me their card and emphasize that it was “debit,” but since that made no difference in our store at the time, I just carried on with the transaction as normal and never had an issue. Except once.)

(The customer is an imposing 6’2″+, 220 lbs. of muscle, long hair in a pony tail, and carries himself in a way that screams “not to be messed with.” I’m a scrawny, 19-year-old buck fifty)

CUSTOMER: (hands me his card) “It’s debit.”

ME: (Runs card as credit)

(As is with credit transactions, a signature sheet prints and I hand it to him with a pen. He starts to put the pen to the paper and then stops.)

CUSTOMER: “Why am I signing? I said it was debit.”

ME: “Yes sir, I know. We don’t have the option to run as debit here so we run all debit as credit.”

CUSTOMER: “But I told you it was debit. I was very clear about that. Why would you blatantly ignore what I told you?” (His voice is getting louder and I can see his eyes getting red as they gleamed at me)

ME: “Sir, the card works the same if–”


(At this moment I see my general manager coming near, and I breath a sigh of relief. That turns to panic as I see her notice the situation and make a sharp right into a nearby department and starts sorting clothes)


ME: (terrified silence, questioning if this guy is really this dumb or if I have been wrong all along about how debit cards work)

(The customer signed the sheet and angrily handed it to me and stormed out. Five minutes later I get a call from the general manager.)

MANAGER: “What was the issue with that gentleman with the long hair?”

ME: “He was angry that I ran his debit card as a credit card because he thinks Visa is going to bill him now.”

MANAGER: “Oh well there’s no worry about that happening. Seems you handled it okay.”

Unfiltered Story #93699

, | Unfiltered | September 14, 2017

(A little over 10 years ago I’m a server at a diner-style restaurant. I have a new table seated in my section and see that it’s a guy a tad younger than me(putting him late teens, early 20’s) [CUSTOMER #1] and a young boy who I estimate to be between 12 and 15, wearing glasses, a cap, and a baseball jersey [CUSTOMER #2]. I immediately assume that this is an older brother taking his younger brother out for a burger; seeing them fills me with a sense of warmth and fondness for the memories I have of getting to spend time with my older brother, with whom I had about the same age spread as these two seemed to. I approach the table to greet them and get their drink order as they choose their food).

ME: “Hello. Welcome to [restaurant], I’m your server. Can I get you something to drink to start out?”

CUSTOMER #1: “I’ll have a Coke.”

ME: “Okay a Coke.” (Turning to the young man) “And for you, young sir?”

CUSTOMER #2: (a slow turn to face me revealing a death stare, which has me confused until the other customer speaks up)

CUSTOMER #1: “That’s my girlfriend, dude.”

ME: (so calmly I’m still shocked to this day) “Oh I’m very sorry about that. What can I bring you to drink?”

CUSTOMER #2: “…”

CUSTOMER #1: “Just bring her a Coke.”

ME: (politely smiling the whole time) “Another Coke, you got it. I’ll be back with those and to get your order.”

(I walked right past the drink station, past the kitchen, through the dish and prep area, into the cooler, and screamed my head off before collecting myself enough to continue as if nothing was wrong. They did not tip but I didn’t gripe.)

Won’t “Let It Go” To Delivery

, , | Right | September 14, 2017

(I work as a pharmacy technician and, as part of verifying a patient’s identity, I ask them to verify the address we have on file. A man with three rows of skulls tattooed on his forearm is picking up for someone else.)

Me: “Can you verify the address?”

Customer: “[Street number], uh, gosh, it’s the snowman from that Frozen movie!”

(The street was Olaf. I laughed and sold him the prescription.)

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