Unfiltered Story #109143

, | Unfiltered | April 17, 2018

(A lady approaches my very busy express lane at work with well over the 12 item limit and a little ceramic jar with no code on it)
Me: I am sorry, there is no code on this, did you know roughly how much it is?
Customer: $4.80
Me: I am fairly certain they are a part of a pack of 3 for that price. I’ll just double check for you.
(I proceed to ask the manager who is standing near me, who agrees that they are apart of a 3 set)
Me: They are a part of the set, did you want to go grab the other two?
Customer: (suddenly mad) No! I brought one here the other day for that price! I don’t want three of them!
Me: I just didn’t want to rip you off.
(I go and tell manager that she is insisting on only buying it individually. We decided to just sell it for that price to keep the line moving)
Customer: SEE?! That wasn’t so hard now, was it?

This Realization Is Permanent

, , , , | Right | April 13, 2018

(I work in a tattoo studio. Two customers in their mid-30s walk into the studio. I’m doing paperwork in the office but can hear the following interaction.)

Customer: “How long do tattoos last?”

Coworker: “Excuse me?”

Customer: “Do they last a few days?”

Coworker: “Oh! Temporary tattoos?”

Customer: “No, real ones. How long do they last? A few days?”

Coworker: “Uh… They last your whole life. Like… until you die.”

(I’ve never seen my coworker so speechless!)

Helping Is In Their Blood

, , , , , , | Healthy | April 11, 2018

(I donate blood regularly. One time, when they insert the needle, I immediately feel lightheaded for a second or two. Since I have not yet lost more than a few drops of blood, definitely not enough to cause a significant loss of blood pressure, I assume it was just a psychosomatic reaction to having such a large needle inserted, shrug it off, and decide to continue with the draw. A few minutes later, it comes back again, and with a vengeance.)

Me: *raising hand shakily* “Um… Excuse me?”

(I immediately have three technicians surrounding me.)

Technician: “Are you okay?”

Me: “I’m feeling a bit lightheaded.”

(They spring into action, immediately removing the needle. One of them reclines my seat so my feet are elevated above my head, one goes to grab damp cloths, which they drape over every inch of exposed skin I have, and one goes to grab me a juice box to increase my blood sugar. After a while, the seat is returned to its regular position, and they continue feeding me juice. I am eventually allowed to go to the recovery area, with two people escorting in case I pass out on the way. Once I sit down, I call my friend who I was supposed to meet to tell her I’ll be delayed. Partway through the conversation, I hear running steps behind me, then feel a hand on my shoulder. I look up to see a woman with a very concerned expression, who looks at me for a moment and then laughs.)

Volunteer: “Oh, you’re on your cell phone! I thought you were talking to yourself!”

Me: “Oh, no. I’m just letting my friend know I’m going to be late.”

Volunteer: “Oh, good.”

Friend: “What was that?”

Me: “Oh, the volunteer thought I was talking to myself. Can you imagine that? ‘Oh, great! First he nearly passes out, and now he’s hallucinating!'”

(They eventually let me go, and I was only 30 minutes late to meet my friend. Fortunately, while everything was going on, one of the techs mentioned I had filled most of a bag, and when I asked if it could still be used, he assured me it could.)

Makeup Won’t Cover Up That Kind Of Ugly

, , , , , | Right | April 3, 2018

(I am standing two customers at a posh department store.)

Customer #1: *a rather pretty, larger young woman* “Do you have any liquid foundation to help cover my blemishes? I’m going on a date.”

Sales Lady: “Of course. Let me show you our range.”

([Customer #2] is impatiently waiting to be served, standing behind [Customer #1]. She mutters loud enough for everyone to hear.)

Customer #2: “Yeah, it’s called sandpaper. No one could cover that much ugly. Who’d want to date a fat someone like that?”

Customer #1: *turns around and glares at the woman, who just looks smug* “Fat is better than being vindictive, nasty, vain, and jealous.”

Customer #2: *turns red in the face* “How dare an ugly b**** talk to me like that? People like you don’t belong in places like this; go home and eat another hamburger!”

(Being larger myself, I get very angry when others are judged on their looks, so I speak up.)

Me: “Hey, lady. A pretty face can’t hide how ugly and nasty you are inside. It’s basic human decency to treat others with respect; if you can’t do that, then you’re the ugliest person on Earth.”

([Customer #1] and I high-five.)

Customer #2: “I see ugly and fat b****es stick up for each other.” *glares at the sales lady* “What are you going to do about this?”

Sales Lady: “I support human decency, ma’am.”

Customer #2: “Well, I’m not going to shop in a place that serves that kind of person and has rude staff.”

(She threw her items — a bottle of liquid foundation and a bottle of perfume — on the floor, where they smashed open, making a mess. Then she headed toward the department store exit. The sales lady quickly called security and stopped the woman, telling her she had to pay for the items she destroyed. As she was dragged off by security, we could hear her yelling throughout the store about the fat, ugly people, and how it was their fault.)

A Superior Comeback

, , , , , | Related | March 26, 2018

(I am about seven or eight and fighting with my mum over something. She’s telling me to do something, but has no better reason than, “because I say so.” I don’t know the word for “child abuse” in Vietnamese, but I have been reading a lot of books, including a Vietnamese translation of “Romance of the Three Kingdoms,” a quasi-historical account of one of the bloodiest civil wars in Chinese history.)

Mum: “You’re getting a beating if you don’t behave! You are being rude and disrespectful!”

Me: *using terminology that is more suitable for a military setting* “Well, you are abusing your position as my superior!”

Mum: *stunned*

(Never one to waste an opportunity, I took advantage of my mum’s shocked silence and skipped away to another part of the house before she could say anything. Somehow, I successfully weaseled my way out of a beating that day. Sadly, it didn’t work the second time I tried it.)

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