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Pointing Out A Customer’s Own Stupidity Makes You The Rude One

, , , , | Right | May 13, 2022

It is a little after seven in the morning. I have just finished getting the cashier area set up for the day. It is important to note that our counter is very long, but there’s only one place to pay. The other side of the counter used to be used for loaner cars before the company pulled the plug on that. I keep that window closed at all times, and I have put up a sign saying to use the other window along with an arrow pointing to where the customer is supposed to be.

Not a lot of people read this sign. Because of where my computer is, I cannot see if a customer is at the counter unless they’re where they’re supposed to be. I can also see the parts counter from my desk.

This morning, I’m sitting at my desk reading my emails when I notice a customer at the parts counter. A moment later, a second customer gets in line behind the first customer. I keep an eye on the parts counter to see if the customer has to pay. The first customer leaves without paying and the second customer approaches the parts counter. I see them pointing to me, so I get up and go over to where the card reader is. The customer then goes over to the other side where the sign with the arrow is.

Me: “Sir, over here.”

The guy huffs but walks over to my window.

Customer: “I’m picking up a car.”

Me: “What was the name?”

Customer: *Mumbles*

Me: “What was that?”

Customer: “[Customer].”

I look through our finished tickets and pull his out.

Me: “Okay, it doesn’t look like you owe anything today. I just need you to sign here and here.”

I mark where I need him to sign and hand him the papers with a pen. He only signs in one spot.

Me: “Up here, as well.”

He signs and throws the pen down. We have a cup for used pens sitting on the customer’s side of the glass, but I decide not to press him on it.

Me: “Okay, and this is your copy and your keys. Have a good day.”

Customer: “What’s your name?”

Me: “[My Name].”

The customer leaves but not before complaining to the manager. A few minutes later, the manager comes over.

Manager: “That guy that was just here said you were very rude to him. What did you do?”

Me: “I asked him to move over here and sign stuff. He didn’t owe anything.”

Manager: “That’s it?”

Me: “Yeah. I mean, if he was standing where I can’t see before he got in the parts line, then I guess he thought I was ignoring him, but that’s what the sign is for.”

Manager: “Maybe you need a bigger sign.”

This Deal Has Expired

, , , , , | Right | May 13, 2022

I am a cashier. A customer puts gross vegetables on the counter by my till.

Customer: “This was in amongst the fresh produce.”

Me: “Sorry, ma’am. I’ll get rid of this and make sure someone goes to check the produce aisle more thoroughly.”

Customer: “No, I want this one at a lower price.”

Me: “Sorry, ma’am, if you want to buy something that’s expired, you will have to pay full price and I’ll take note of you acknowledging its condition. We don’t give discounts on expired food.”

Customer: “I’m not going to eat it; I want to put it in a compost heap.”

Me: “I understand, ma’am, but it’s store policy.”

Customer: “It’s really disgusting that you throw all this produce out rather than let us buy it at a lower rate.”

Me: “Like I said, ma’am, it isn’t my decision to make.”

The customer threw the vegetable at me and stormed out, leaving her trolley full of items to block the queue.

On The Need For Hazard Pay, Part 29

, , , | Legal | May 13, 2022

When I was a teenager, I delivered pizzas. I was relatively affluent for a teenager; I had my own car, my own cellphone, and a GPS device. 

I don’t know if all pizza places do it this way, but for the one I worked for, we were required to deliver in our own car. They had their own GPS devices, but mine was nicer and not crusted in gunk. Still, I was required to take the work GPS with me when working.

Generally, the way it went was that I would load up the back of my car with pizzas, make sure that the lighted topper was secure, and I’d take off.

One day, I got into an accident. I was driving through an intersection when a beast of a car — dark and black with a chrome grill — slammed into the passenger side of mine.

Thankfully, it was turning, so instead of simply ending me then and there, it tore along the side of mine, pushing my car onto two tires. Then, it sped off in the direction I had been going, taking my passenger side door with it.

Honestly, I don’t remember if I had the green or if I had accelerated into a yellow; the impact shook me up pretty badly. It might have been partly my fault.

Regardless, after the accident, I sat in my car shaking for a while. I had the presence of mind, barely, to write the licence plate number on one of the receipts with me with the pen I had.

Then, I called my boss, got his answering machine, and left a message.

Me: “Hey, I just got into a car accident. I don’t think I can get these pizzas to their destinations in a timely fashion; in fact, I think that they’re all unsaleable. You’re going to have to remake them and get [Other Driver] to deliver them. I’ll try to take the bus back to work. Thanks, bye.”

Then, I unbuckled myself, climbed into the wreckage of the back of my car, and opened the pizza boxes. The pizzas were a mess. I was shaken up.

I started eating them. I also started sucking coke out of a two-litre that was leaking in the back. I’m not sure if I wanted to hydrate or if I somehow thought that this would stop it from ruining the backseat of my car.

Well, it turns out that my boss was rather worried by my dazed-sounding phone message. He got my location from the work GPS and sent an ambulance and police car to me.

They found me in the back of my car covered in pizza gunk and sticky soda. The EMS initially thought that the mix of cheese and tomato sauce was gore. Then, the police thought that I was stealing the pizzas and that the driver of the car was trying to take the bus back to work.

The police wound up calling my boss to confirm my identity. He tore them a new one. We’re both black, and he thought that the police were being racist. He even got their badge numbers and made an official complaint.

Anyway, EMS eventually took me to the hospital to get looked at, and at some point during the ambulance ride, I passed out. When I woke up, I was being transferred to a hospital gurney. I tried to tell them I didn’t need it, but they wouldn’t let me stand up to prove I could walk.

Eventually, the whole crew from work arrived at the hospital to check up on me. The boss had said, “No more orders,” delivered the ones left, closed shop (though he was still paying everyone) and, between him and [Other Driver], drove everyone to the hospital to see me.

[Other Driver] told me a funny thing. There was a badly damaged car in the parking lot of the apartment he had delivered one of my pizzas to. Black with chrome grill. He’d thought, haha, wouldn’t it be a funny coincidence if it was the same one that hit me?

He had written down the licence plate number. I had him get my pants out of the cubby and we pulled the pizza- and soda-stained receipt from my pocket. We stared at the barely-legible numbers I had scribbled onto the receipt.

They matched.

Related:
On The Need For Hazard Pay, Part 28
On The Need For Hazard Pay, Part 27
On The Need For Hazard Pay, Part 26
On The Need For Hazard Pay, Part 25
On The Need For Hazard Pay, Part 24

To Give Credit Where Credit Is Due, Part 5

, , , , | Right | May 13, 2022

A regular library patron comes up to the desk and waves a magazine at us.

Patron: “I need to copy four pages out of this.”

Me: “Okay, the public copier is right over there.”

Patron: “I have forty cents credit at this library. I owed sixty cents for printing last week, and I paid with a dollar, so now I have credit.”

I look at my coworker. Our money system for computer print-outs is literally run out of an Altoids tin, and the copier is coin-operated separately. We don’t track patrons’ payments once they’ve paid.

However, we both know that this particular patron is a bit difficult, so my coworker gives me a shrug to say, “Whatever.”

Me: “Okay, we don’t have a credit system, but I can help you with the copier this time.”

I take forty cents out of the Altoids tin, drop it in the photocopier coin slot, and then photocopy the pages the patron wants, though normally it’s supposed to be self-serve.

Me: “All right. Here you go. Also, for future reference, we have no way of tracking credit. If you want your change, you can just take it when we offer it.”

Patron: “Well, I paid with a dollar. It wasn’t even my dollar; some man just gave it to me downstairs. So, I paid with that, and I told the lady at the desk to keep the change for someone else who needs it. That’s my credit.”

Me: “Okay, well… we have no way to track that.”

Patron: “It’s my credit.”

Me: “I understand what you’re saying, but we don’t track credit. In the future, you can just take your change and keep it with you for next time.”

Patron: “Look, I have two nursing degrees, so I’m not stupid. You don’t have to keep repeating that. I’m not dumb!”

Me: “Okay.”

Patron: “You know what? I’m going to take my copies somewhere else next time since you can’t even treat grown-ups with respect! I’ll go to [Office Supply Chain] and give them my business!”

Me: “Okay.”

Patron: “No respect! I have two degrees!”

Related:
To Give Credit Where Credit Is Due, Part 4
To Give Credit Where Credit Is Due, Part 3
To Give Credit Where Credit Is Due, Part 2
To Give Credit Where Credit Is Due

Empathy Is Collapsing

, , , , , | Right | May 13, 2022

Due to working too many shifts over multiple jobs, one of my coworkers actually passes out as they’re coming back from bringing food out to a customer.

I see the customer run up to the coworker on the floor and get down near them, and just as I think they’re about to help them, they say:

Customer: “You forgot my daughter’s Coke!”