CONTENT WARNING: Child Abuse

I am the supervisor on shift today. Around seven, one of my cashiers answers the phone. I can only hear a bit of what she’s saying, but before long, she puts them on hold and comes to me, looking incredibly confused.

Cashier: “So… I have a man on the line that… said something about having punched a baby? I can’t… I don’t understand what he wants.”

Ooh, boy. I pick up the line and give my greeting, prepared for the worst.

Me: “Hi, my name is [My Name]; I’m the supervisor on shift. My cashier tells me that you… had issues with a child you hit?”

Caller: “Yeah, so, a couple of days ago, I came in and ended up punching a baby, but like, I just wanted to call and make sure I wasn’t in any trouble or whatever else, just to call and ask about it.”

At this point, I’m pretty sure he’s either lying or calling the wrong store because, even if I hadn’t been on shift, someone punching a baby is absolutely something I would have ended up hearing about.

Me: “Okay, well, I am not the person you’d need to talk to about something like this. If you’d like to call back and speak to our store manager in the morning—”

Caller: “No, I’m not calling back! I just need you to absolve me of responsibility!”

Me: “Well, like I said, I’m not the person you need to talk to. You have to speak with my store manager about the incident—”

Caller: “Aw, come on. You know how it goes! I was just in line, and this freaking kid just starts crying and the mom was standing there not doing nothing, and the kid wouldn’t shut up, so I just hit them, and that shut them up real fast, but the mom didn’t seem to care, so I just left. I just wanted to absolve myself of responsibility by calling and telling you.”

We’re fairly slow, so my cashier is listening to my half of the conversation curiously. I’m leaning closer and closer to either prank or lie.

Me: “Um… well… I am still not the person to speak to. You need to call back—”

Caller: “I am not calling back! You need to absolve me of responsibility! I called and told you, so you need to absolve me!”

I have no idea why this is his go-to phrase.

Me: “Sir, I am not the one who can do that. You need to—”

Caller: “If you hang up this phone, you absolve me of all responsibility!”

Me: “Sir, I—”

Caller: “I am absolved if you disconnect. I called and told you, which means I’m absolved!”

This continues another three or four times, with me attempting to explain and him repeating, “If you hang up, I’m absolved of all responsibility.” Eventually, I get annoyed, and we have real customers to take care of, so instead of hanging up, I just put him back on hold and tell my cashier to leave him there. If he wants to disconnect himself, he can.

My cashier starts laughing when I tell her about it.

Cashier: “You told him it wasn’t your call seven or eight times! I was counting!”

It took at least five minutes of being on hold for him to finally hang up. I still have no idea what that was about. I wrote up an incident report just in case — also to give my morning shift a bit of a laugh when they came in.

I work for a manufacturer of a unique brand of products that no other company offers. After the US Supreme Court ruled that states could charge sales tax for online purchases made from businesses outside of the customer’s state of residency, many of our customers were incensed. I got one phone call from a regular.

Customer: “I was about to submit an order on your website and discovered that you are charging sales tax now.”

Me: “Yes, the laws changed recently, and your state now requires us to collect it. We had no say in the matter.”

Customer: “I refuse to buy from a company that does this!”

Me: “I’m sorry, but that’s an issue you will have to take up with your state government.”

Customer: “I cannot in good conscience do business with you, then.”

Me: “I’m sorry to hear that, but it’s not our choice.”

Customer: “I will buy from somewhere else.”

Our product is only sold direct-to-customer with no distributors.

Me: “Good luck, then!”

Customer: “I just can’t believe you would charge me sales tax. That’s not going to work for what I want to do.”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but we are not going to risk a lawsuit from your state collections agency to commit tax fraud because you refuse to pay sales tax.”

Customer: “I’ve lost all faith in your business. I will make sure that everybody knows what kind of cheaters you are!”

Thirty minutes later, an order came through the system with his name on it, sales tax paid in full.

Related:
Taxing Taxing, Part 16
Taxing Taxing, Part 15
Taxing Taxing, Part 14
Taxing Taxing, Part 13
Taxing Taxing, Part 12

There is a very long list of fun reasons I’ve had customers demand to speak to my manager (like a customer complaining that their ham and swiss sandwich had swiss on it), but recently, I had this.

Customer: “—and I would like to add a banana.”

Me: “Sorry, ma’am, but we are currently out of bananas.”

Customer: “Then get one from the back.”

Me: “We don’t have any back or front, ma’am.”

Customer: “Well then, just make some more!”

Me: “I… can’t?”

Customer: “Get your manager!”

I do.

Manager: “How may I help you, ma’am?”

Customer: “She keeps saying you’re out of bananas, and she won’t just make some more!”

Manager: “We don’t… make bananas here, ma’am. We order them in from a supplier.”

Customer: “Nonsense!”

Manager: “I’m sorry, ma’am, I can’t help you.”

Customer: “No, you’re not sorry! You’re lying!” *Storms out*

I get a notice that there’s some recall work that needs to be done on my car. The paperwork says it’ll take about two hours. (I should have realized that’s two hours for the actual work but doesn’t necessarily take into account the time spent waiting at the dealership, but that’s a different story.) I call the dealership and get a time scheduled to bring my car in and get a loaner so I can go back to work.

I dropped my car off just before 8:00 am. At about 2:00 pm, I get a text.

Representative: “Hello, this is [Representative] from [Dealership]. Your car is next in line to have [recall work] done. Based on your car mileage, our technicians are also recommending [a whole bunch of stuff that basically boils down to an oil change]. The charge for that will be [almost $500]. Would you like them to do this work?”

Figuring that I can get the same oil change done at [Oil Change Chain] for $120 and laughing my a** off, I respond to the text.

Me: “Just the recall work at this time, please.”

Representative: “I’ll let the technicians know. Thank you.”

I get another message at 5:41 pm.

Representative: “Hello, this is [Representative] from [Dealership]. The work has been completed on your vehicle and you can pick it up at any time.”

I double-checked their signage when I dropped my car off that morning, as well as the website, and saw that they are closing at 7:00, so I finish a couple of things around the house and then go to the dealership.

I pull in at 6:05 and it’s pretty empty. I get out and try to go into the lobby, and it’s locked. I start glancing around and pulling up my phone to double-check the website as well as staring at the closed garage doors. Everything says they’re closing at 7:00.

An employee finally comes out a nearby door and seems startled to see me.

Employee: “Uh, hi.”

Me: “Hi, I got a message that I could get my car?”

Employee: “Well, uh, we’re closed.”

Me: “So, are you saying I can’t get my car?”

The employee likely sees that I’m about to cry.

Employee: “Uh, one moment.”

He disappears back inside.

Admittedly, having to wait a day to get my car probably wasn’t the end of the world, but I have been acting on the (supposed) knowledge that they are open until 7:00. I rearranged a few things to be able to be without my car for the day, but I need it tomorrow.

The employee finally pokes his head out the door.

Employee: “Okay, come on in.”

He took me up to the desk where they checked in the loaner and then sent me out to get my car. I finally got the rundown of what they did — just the recall work, so that’s free — what they wanted to do — the $500 oil change that I refused to do because that’s f****** insane — and the recommendation that I get the $500 oil change done ASAP. I got in my car and went home.

When I got home, I double-checked the paperwork as I was putting it in my files, and up at the top, the hours were listed as closing at 6:00 pm. That was literally the only place it was listed in any of their documentation.

I was so frustrated, especially with the text that said I could come and get my car. It would have been one thing if the representative had said something like, “Please be aware that we close at 6:00 but will reopen tomorrow,” and I’d just misread it or completely forgotten. But I double-checked all of the communication, and there was nothing. I submitted a review and tried to lodge a complaint, but it never went anywhere. It did ensure that I wouldn’t use that dealership unless I absolutely have to, though.

Related:
Not So Closed Minded, Part 30
Not So Closed Minded, Part 29
Not So Closed Minded, Part 28
Not So Closed Minded, Part 27
Not So Closed Minded, Part 26

Due to complications from a childhood injury, I have to get surgery on my left elbow to regain control and feeling of my left hand. I research all about the procedure beforehand so I am ready when getting prepped for surgery. I am a woman in my twenties, I’m married to another woman, and we live in a very religious area. We both have very feminine names.

A nurse is preparing my IV. She’s prepping my left elbow to put an IV in.

Me: “Soooo, before you put that in, I have a question. Wouldn’t an IV get in the way? Or be ineffective on that side?”

The nurse ignores me, pretending I didn’t say anything but in the way that it’s obvious that she did hear me. She uses the alcohol swab on my left inner elbow, but I block the needle with my right hand and stare at her.

Me: “I don’t consent to this. Get me someone with manners.”

The nurse says nothing but hits my right hand, like one would for a toddler reaching for the stove. I pull back my hand, and while my hand is moved, she quickly attempts to go for my arm with the needle, but I manage to use my clumsy and numb left hand to whack her in the face.

Nurse: *Screams* “THAT’S ASSAULT! I NEED HELP!”

I remain silent and stay as far against the back of the bed as I can. A couple of other medical staff members come in.

Physician’s Assistant: “What’s happened? Is everyone okay?”

Nurse: *Wailing dramatically* “SHE HIT ME!”

Physician’s Assistant: *To me, aggressively* “What do you have to say for yourself?!”

Me: “She assaulted me first, so I used self-defense. I do not consent to being jabbed at or going under anesthesia without having my simple question answered!”

The physician’s assistant suddenly changes his entire tone, realizing that I’m not being unreasonable.

Physician’s Assistant: “Well, what do you want to know?”

Me: “I want to know why the IV would be inserted into the elbow that’s being operated on.”

Physician’s Assistant: “It wouldn’t. It would be ineffective.”

Me: “Well, she was trying to do that, and she wouldn’t stop until I forced her away.”

Physician’s Assistant: *To the nurse* “Please leave. We don’t have time for your… problem.”

The nurse sulks and storms off. She tries to slam the door behind herself but the hydraulics stop the door from slamming.

Me: “Let me guess. She saw my spouse’s name on the contact information sheet?”

Physician’s Assistant: *Pauses* “I can’t confirm or deny that, but I can say that it wouldn’t surprise me.”

Me: “I’m not sure I’m comfortable having my procedure here anymore. How do I know she won’t murder me while I’m unconscious?”

The physician’s assistant clearly knows it’ll be huge legal trouble either way.

Physician’s Assistant: “Let me get back to you. Ten minutes.”

The physician’s assistant leaves and returns with a police officer and the rude nurse.

Officer: “Due to the assault and concerns for hate crimes, the administrator told me to remove [Nurse] from the property until you have left the property. Is this the right person?”

Me: “Yes, sir.”

Nurse: “Why aren’t you arresting her?! She hit me! In the face!”

Officer: *To the nurse, aggressively* “Did I ask for you to speak? Let’s go.”

He took her away, and I had the surgery. The nurse’s license was put on probation. I can use my left arm again!

This story is part of our Even-More-Highest-Voted-Stories-Of-2023-(so far!) roundup!

Read the next story!

Read the roundup!