Actually Haggling With You About Haggling

, , , | Right | February 15, 2019

(I see a book in an antique shop in upstate Virginia, and express an interest.)

Assistant: “How about $4?”

Me: “Fine.”

Assistant: *in amazement* “You don’t want to haggle?”

Me: “H*** no. The book is worth more to me than $4, so why should I haggle?”

Assistant: “Everybody haggles to try to beat us down on everything!”

Me: “Why haggle when you have a bargain at $4, anyway?”

Taking A Spill

, , , | Right | February 8, 2019

(I work at a specialty coffee shop that does not have an automatic espresso machine, and only has one machine as it’s a small place. It takes about a minute per drink to pull your grinds, tamp it, load it up, steam the milk, and pour. It can take even longer if someone gets extra shots, the pull looks like it’s going to taste bad, we give a person fancy latte art, etc. This day is particularly busy and most people understand it is going to be a bit of a wait, but not all of them. We have a nonstop string of drink tickets, usually six to ten tickets up at a time, and some of those tickets have a couple of drinks each. Right in the middle of this, a woman comes in and places her order, and stands directly in the way of the drink hand-off area. I make a couple of drinks for people that came before her.)

Customer: “Is that mine?”

Me: “No, ma’am. Your drink is still about eight or nine drinks away. It’ll be another ten minutes before you’re up, if you want to have a seat.”

(She doesn’t sit down; she continues to stand there blocking traffic. I make another ticket’s drinks.)

Customer: “Is that mine?”

Me: “No, yours is still a bit away; I’ll call your name when it’s up.”

(She continued this a few more times, even trying to walk off with other people’s drinks, but I let her know they weren’t hers. FINALLY, we got to her drink. At this point, she was so upset that when she went to grab the drink, she yanked it towards herself and spilled it everywhere. I made her a new one, and she stood there complaining, left, forgot her keys, came back even more upset, and then finally left for good. I thought it was over until I got a call from my manager who said that this woman wanted me to pay for the cleaning of her Dior purse, which she now had to have sent away for cleaning because I spilled the drink on her. I told my manager what happened, and I did not end up paying for the woman’s purse.)

The Only Worthy Reason To Become A Police Officer

, , , , , | Legal | February 8, 2019

Guest: “Are you security here?”

Me: “Yes, ma’am, how may I help you?”

Guest: “There’s a car blocking the street and I can’t get through to the exit.”

Me: “Ma’am… um… that’s a police car, and they can park wherever they want. All you need to d…”

Guest: “Well, if he can park there, why can’t I?”

Me: “Because you’re not a law enforcement officer on official business, ma’am. Now, to exit, you just tu…”

Guest: “How do I get to be a cop so I can park in the street?”

Me: “Contact your local police department, ma’am; they’ll give you details. Just turn left, drive to the end of the row, and turn right; takes you straight to the exit.”

Lazy Cartographers

, , , | Right | February 7, 2019

(More than once, when I’ve gone up to the front of the store to grab a cart because I need it, a customer will immediately come up behind me and ask this question:)

Customer: “Can I have that cart?”

Me: “I’m sorry, but I need it.”

(Believe it or not, employees also need to use the shopping carts at times. We are not pulling out the cart because we saw you enter the store and know you’re too lazy to walk two feet to get your own cart.)

The Tiger Comment Was A Bit Of A Stretch

, , , , | Healthy | February 7, 2019

(When I am pregnant with our first child, my husband and I go to a birthing center for all my prenatal care and then for the birth. This birthing center has two midwives. One is a complete angel, but the other is quite difficult to deal with. Partway through the pregnancy, I notice I have gotten a lot of stretch marks on my stomach and am worried that it looks pretty bad. But since my husband hasn’t commented on or acknowledged them at all, I decide they must not be as noticeable as I thought. Then comes another appointment with the difficult midwife. When she sees my stretch marks, she exclaims:)

Midwife: “You look like you got attacked by a tiger! You really need to start working to prevent getting more.”

(She then proceeds to tell me methods to prevent getting more and warning me that they never go away, while I lay there feeling insecure and embarrassed. I look over at my husband to find him looking angry. When he and I get out to the car after the appointment, before we drive off, I turn to him and ask hesitantly and nervously:)

Me: “So… are they really that bad? Like I was attacked by a tiger?”

Husband: *frustrated sigh* “I could shoot that woman.”

Me: “…”

Husband: “I knew as soon as she started talking it would make you feel bad. I so wanted to knock her out or something.”

Me: “You’d never seemed to notice them, so I thought they weren’t that bad.”

Husband: “Of course I noticed them, but I didn’t care! They don’t matter. And I didn’t say anything because I knew it would make you feel bad! I think you are beautiful! The stretch marks really aren’t a big deal.”

Me: “Oh. Thank you.”

(This attitude is only one of the reasons I’m glad to be married to him.)

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