Their Mistake, Period

, , , , , | Working | February 14, 2020

My partner and I have ordered some new doors for our house. The salesperson was excellent; knowledgeable and friendly. He arranges for someone to come measure up our place.

A man comes out to our house to do the measuring; he turns out the be the owner. He, too, is very friendly. He advises he’ll go back to his office, draw up a quote, and let us know the price. 

He calls the following day and we are happy with the cost, so he says he will email an official quote through for us to pay a deposit. After a few days, we haven’t received anything, so I give him a call and he resends it.

The next day, I still haven’t received anything, so I give him another call and confirm my email address with him. It turns out he’s been putting a period in it (i.e jane.doe) when there shouldn’t be one. He says he’ll send the quote again.

I still receive nothing, so this time I email the owner, hoping he can just reply directly to me. Still nothing.

Another few days later, he calls me; I think he must want to discuss the emails, but nope! His shop carpenter has looked at the measurements he came and took from my house and told him they make no sense. He needs to come back out to the house and measure them again. So, we make a time and out he comes. 

When he is back in my house and in person, I discuss the email situation. He adamantly tells me he fixed it and shows me the order form he has in his hands to prove it… and what do you know, it’s still wrong. I write on his form my correct email address, even writing “NO DOT” next to it. Off he goes again.

Finally, he successfully sends me the quote, I pay it in full, and I email him remittance. I’m sure you can guess where this is going, but no receipt is returned. I call, ask for the receipt, he says he’s sent it. He reads the email address out to me on the phone…

“J-A-N-E-DOT-D-O-E…” and around we go again.

Our doors have finally been installed and are excellent — and thankfully the right size! — and the staff were nothing but friendly, but wow, what a trip to get there! And before you say I should have taken my business elsewhere when it started going wrong… I know. Hindsight is a b**** like that.

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My Only Preference Is To Annoy You

, , , , , | Working | February 12, 2020

(Over the next few weeks, we have to complete some mandatory paid training at work. It’s being run at various times on Tuesdays and Wednesdays for the next three weeks. My supervisor approaches me during one of my shifts.)

Supervisor: “Hey, are you working Tuesday or Wednesday next week?”

Me: “I’m working both days.”

Supervisor: “Do you think you could come in an hour earlier on one of those days and do the training?”

Me: “Sure. Which day?”

Supervisor: “Take your pick, Tuesday or Wednesday. Which would you prefer?”

Me: “Either or. It makes no difference to me really. Whatever’s easiest.”

Supervisor: “Both work. Just pick one.”

Me: “Okay, I’ll take Tuesday, then, and get it out the way sooner, I guess.”

Supervisor: “Oh. Is there any way you could do it Wednesday, instead? The Tuesday group is full.”

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Driving You Out Of The Store

, , , , , , | Working | February 1, 2020

(I want a particular item from a flatpack furniture store. The colour I want is being discontinued, and is not available for online order, though their customer service assures me I can just go into my closest store and arrange for delivery that way. We gather the other furniture we’re buying, and then look for the chest of drawers. We’re able to find the other available colours, but not the one we want, despite the app telling us they have plenty in stock at this location. We go to the furniture desk to speak to a clerk. He apologises and tells us that this item, due to being discontinued, is held in their secondary warehouse. He tears a map off a pad and hands it over.)

Me: “Oh, but I want them delivered.”

Clerk: “As they’re in the secondary warehouse, they can’t be delivered.”

Me: “Oh, okay, but customer service told me I could order them in-store for delivery.”

Clerk: “Sorry, but that’s not possible.”

Me: “I don’t drive. I don’t have a car. I’m unable to go get them myself.”

Clerk: “We have vans to rent, if that makes it easier.”

Me: “I don’t drive; I don’t have a license.” *lifts my cane* “And I’m disabled; I couldn’t load and unload them without assistance, which is why we need them delivered.”

Clerk: “Sorry, but we can’t deliver them. You can go pick them up yourself.”

Me: *shows conversation with customer service on my phone*

(The conversation continues to go in circles, with the clerk seeming to not understand that I don’t drive, can’t drive, don’t have a car, etc.) 

Me: *finally getting a bit upset* “But you’re [Flatpack Store]. I don’t understand why this isn’t something you can organise?”

Clerk: *shrug*

Me: *hating myself* “Can I speak to a manager, please?”

Clerk: “He’ll tell you the same thing.” *calls over radio*

Manager: *appears like a scruffy angel* “Oh, no problem, you just do this—” *taps like three keys* “—and it goes through as [particular order type] and delivery is arranged by the front desk.”

(I thanked the manager and apologised to the original clerk for any trouble I might have caused. And the furniture looks wonderful now that it’s been built, so this is one NAW with a happy ending.)

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Unfiltered Story #184501

, , | Unfiltered | January 30, 2020

This happened in 2011. I’d forgotten about it until it popped up in a facebook memory. My shop phone is shared with my residence.

Person on phone, MONDAY. “Hello. I just wanted to check what time you close today”
Me “I don’t close today, because I’m not open”. “The shop is open Wednesday to Saturday”.
Person on phone “Oh, I wanted to buy something for someone whose birthday is tomorrow. Looks Like I should’ve come in yesterday.”

The Little Boy Is Gonna Be Bush Tucker

, , , , , , | Right | January 23, 2020

(I work in the restaurant of a wedding venue. The whole place is in secluded, scenic bush-land and backs onto a major river. Given how easily a child could get lost in the area and potentially encounter wildlife or fall into the river if they strayed too far, we don’t allow any child to be unaccompanied on the premises. Most parents are completely compliant with this rule, as it is entirely there to ensure their kid’s safety. Today is an open day for the whole facility; couples can come in and look at the chapel and the various function centres, look around the grounds, and finally, have lunch in the main restaurant to get a sense of the cuisine we offer. We typically get 50 to 100 people on these tours, occasionally with children tagging along. I’m walking into the building to start my shift when a mother and her little boy, maybe two or three years old, calls me over.)

Mother: “Hi! I was just wondering what there is for the little ones to do while we look around?”

Child: “I’m [Child]!”

Me: “Hey, [Child]! Actually, ma’am, we have a pretty strict policy that kids need to stay with their guardians at all times. Our property is very large and we’d hate for anyone to wander off and get lost or hurt.”

Mother: “Well, he can’t come on the tour! He’ll get bored!”

Me: “As I said, ma’am, all children do need to stick with their guardians while on the premises.”

Mother: “Couldn’t you keep an eye on him?”

Me: “Unfortunately, I’m needed in the restaurant. As I said, he’ll need to stay with you.”

Kid: “I’m [Child]!”

Me: “Hey, [Child]!”

Mother: “What the f***?”

Me: “Um. Yes?”

Mother: “You expect me to just tote around my son all afternoon?”

Me: “As his guardian, yes.”

Mother: “That is f****** ridiculous.”

Kid: “That is f****** ridikuse.”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, I didn’t make the policy. And it is for the safety of your child. Bushland and rivers can be hazardous for unaccompanied children.”

Mother: “Are you trying to tell me how to parent?”

Me: “Absolutely not, just letting you know what the rules are. Look, I can see my manager just over there. How about I go ask him to come to have a chat with you?”

Mother: “Fine!”

(I send my manager over and she has a similar yelling match with him while I take the opportunity to duck inside and start my shift. Two hours later, the tour group is down to its last couple of people finishing their meals, and I haven’t seen [Child] or his mum since I came inside. As I’m clearing dishes off the deck I finally see them: a soggy woman dragging a soggy child up the hill from the river. I take a moment to wonder if I can slip away and let someone else deal with her; I can see from here that she is irate. But I’m too curious to see how this happened, so I grab a stack of hand towels and go meet them on the hill to help them dry off a little.)

Mother: “How dare you?!”

Me: “I’m so sorry, what’s happened?”

Kid: “We went swimming!”

Me: “I can see that!”

Mother: “Your manager was completely unhelpful. He just repeated the same bulls*** you gave me. It’s like the two of you were in on it!”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, it’s just the policy here.”

Mother:Right. Well, [Child] came with us at the start but he got bored, just like I said he would.”

Me: “I’m sorry to hear that. The tour is probably a little too long for kids.”

Mother: “So, I said he could play on the hill until lunchtime.”

Me: “Oh.”

Mother: And then, when I came back for him, he’d gone down to the river. He could have drowned!

Me: “I’m so glad that you found him in time!”

Mother: “How is it possible that none of your staff saw him go?”

Me: “I’m sorry?”

Mother: “You’re all f****** incompetent! If he’d have drowned, you would have been arrested for murder.”

(At this point, she went completely off the rails, accusing the venue of setting up a death trap for her child, and accusing me of attempted murder. The venue staff tracked down some towels for them, but she would not be calmed down, and shrieked that she would never be back. Which of course, we were all very sad to hear.)

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