Scoring Ten Out Of Nine For Stupidity

, , , , | Right | September 18, 2018

(I work in a chain of stores that has over 300 locations across Canada. There is one flyer for all the stores, but my store often has cheaper prices than the flyer due to local competition. An older lady and her husband come in asking where the Jello — 10 for $10 in the flyer — is located.)

Me: “The Jello is right over here.”

Lady: “What the h*** are you trying to pull? That is a rip off.”

Me: *totally cut off guard* “Um… Is there an issue with the Jello?”

Lady: “I want the 10-for-$10 Jello!”

(I realized we sold our Jello at a regular price of $0.99 each, so it would come to $9.90, saving her $0.10 more than the flyer. I told her that she would be saving money. She called me stupid and wouldn’t calm down until the manager sold it to her for 10 for $10.)

Doesn’t Register His Lack Of Information

, , , , , , | Working | September 13, 2018

(I’ve just arrived at work.)

Supervisor: “Morning. Can you hop onto a bulk register?”

Me: “Sure. Which one?”

Supervisor: “Doesn’t matter. Any of them will do.”

Me: “Any of them?”

Supervisor: “Any of them.”

(I walk up to the closest register: number eight, only a few feet away. I inform a pair of customers queuing at register seven, the only other staffed register, that I am opening and that they can start unloading their shopping on my belt, which they do. When a register isn’t in use, we park trolleys in them to stop customers leaving through them. When we go to open one, we usually just move the trolleys back to the trolley bay and are good to go. This time, however, I notice that the trolley has been chained to the register with a padlock.)

Me: “Uh, [Supervisor], is there a key to unlock this trolley so I can move it?”

Supervisor: “Why?”

Me: “So I can open up on register eight.”

Supervisor: “Register eight isn’t working today. Go on a different register.”

Me: “You did say, ‘any register.’”

Supervisor: “Obviously I meant any register except number eight. Open on six.”

(By now, of course, the customers had unloaded most of their shopping onto register eight’s belt, and were quite annoyed when I told them they’d have to load it all back into their trolley and move down to register six!)

Love-Sick As A Parrot

, , , , , , , | Romantic | September 1, 2018

I come to Canada with my grandmother so she can meet my boyfriend. She and I are going to meet him for lunch, and we have a bit of time to spare, so she and I figure we’ll go to a nearby butterfly garden. This garden is also home to some parrots, which is my main interest in going, as I’m fascinated with birds of all sorts. I am taking pictures of a beautiful parrot when all of a sudden he flies at me. He lands on my arm and begins walking all over me, and, again, being an avid birder, I am quite excited. Little children come up to pet him while he is on my arm, also full of excitement.

Then, things become a little awkward.

The bird starts getting all sorts of frisky with my hand. A little girl tries to get him to move to her arm, which, thank goodness, he refuses, but he keeps going at my hand. By the time he finally flies away, I have a small crowd of kids surrounding me and the bird, petting him while he does unspeakable things, and I do my best to downplay what is happening.

When I tell my boyfriend about it later, we have quite a good laugh!

Making A Baby Hurts Way Before You’re Making A Baby

, , , , , | Learning | August 30, 2018

Lecturer: “Kip Keino ran with gallstones, arguably the second most painful experience in the world. Who can guess the first?”

The Answer: “Childbirth.”

My Answer: “MENSTRUAL CRAMPS!”

A Crippling Case Of Discrimination

, , , , , , | Working | August 29, 2018

(I have just returned part-time to the store where I used to be an assistant manager. The assistant manager who replaced me transferred from a different store. I left after a car accident had left me a paraplegic. I can do everything apart from cashier and stocking. Because of my injury being incomplete, I suffer from muscle spasms and nerve pain. On a bad day, I can’t even get out of bed, let alone sit in my wheelchair. I’ve been told to call in sick as soon as I can and there won’t be a problem. The new assistant manager knows this. This happens the first time I have to call in:)

Me: *slightly slurred speech due to medication* “Hi, its [My Name]. I’m sorry but I can’t come in today.”

Assistant Manager: “What? Just because you’re hungover, that’s no excuse to not come in. You better be here, otherwise you’re fired.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but I’m not hungover. I’m in extreme pain and I’m having such severe muscle spasms that my legs are locked up stiff as boards. If you have a problem, talk to [Store Manager].”

(I hang up on her and call my store manager and explain. I’m told not to worry, just rest and get better. The assistant manager is given a verbal warning. The next shift I work is with the same assistant manager.)

Assistant Manager: “[My Name], I need you on register three.”

Me: “Oh, sorry, but I can’t work a register. It’s too high up.”

Assistant Manager: “God. Fine. I need you to stock [department].”

Me: “I can’t. It’s not safe.”

Assistant Manager: “What? Why the f*** not?”

Me: “Because most of the shelves are too high up for me to reach, and it would require too much bending.”

(There are plenty of other duties I can do; I’m specially trained in the photo lab and electronics department, as a door greeter, at the customer service desk, etc.)

Assistant Manager: “Well, what f****** use are you, then? I don’t understand why they’d even hire a [disabled slur] in the first place! First, you call in still drunk and give some bulls*** excuse, and then you say you can’t do anything. You’re f****** useless!”

(She says this in front of other coworkers who I have worked with before. By now I’m in tears.)

Coworker: “You can’t talk to her like that. [My Name], go to the staff room and calm down. You can work in the lab and I’ll do the register.”

Assistant Manager: “What? No. I’ve told her where she’s working. If she ‘can’t’ do it, she can go home and not bother coming back. And as for you—” *points to coworker* “—you can count this as your first warning, for talking back.”

Me: “You know what? You’re a b****. If I have to work with you, I quit. But I will be talking to [Store Manager], and you can expect to hear from my lawyer for discrimination.”

(I ignore the assistant manager and head back to the staff room, grab my bag, and head home. The store manager rings me ten minutes after I get home.)

Store Manager: “Hey, I’m sorry to do this but [Assistant Manager] said she fired you after she caught you stealing from the staff room.”

Me: “What? That’s bulls***. Don’t take my word for it, but you need to talk to [Coworkers #1, #2, or #3].”

Store Manager: “I don’t believe her. Don’t worry. I’ll sort it out and call you tomorrow.”

(The assistant manager was fired for not only discrimination, but it turns out she was stealing merchandise and money from tills, as well. I also found out from a mutual friend the reason she didn’t like me was because her son had applied for a job at the same time I came back and she blamed me for him not getting it.)


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