What’s His Trucking Problem?

, , , , , , | Friendly | April 23, 2019

My husband has worked for his employer for over twenty years and is currently in charge of shipping and receiving. I stop to visit, parking in the usual visitor area. A large freight truck has arrived and appears to be having difficulties maneuvering within the allotted space. The driver flies out of the cab, arms flying, and begins to yell at me for parking where I did, calling me names and ordering me to move.

Rather than possibly have the family car hit by such an inadequately trained truck driver, I move the car.

As I approach my husband within the warehouse, the truck driver is loudly complaining about some b**** in the parking lot who was in his way. I simply smile, kiss my husband in front of the truck driver, and apologize for being late, telling my husband that apparently my usual parking spot is inconvenient for beginning truck drivers.

That driver was never allowed on company property again.

They’re All Game For A Bit Of Down Time

, , , , | Working | April 8, 2019

(Our warehouse is in the process of closing permanently. Despite this, management refuses to send anyone home unless employees are willing to not get paid. That has led to some… creativity in entertaining ourselves.)

Office Worker: “What are you guys doing in the back today?”

Me: “Playing Apples to Apples.”

Office Worker: “Aren’t you going to get in trouble if [Supervisor] comes back there?”

Me: “She’s playing Yahtzee up front today, so I don’t really think she cares.”

Can Recognise A Scam in Any Language

, , , , | Legal | February 20, 2019

(I work in a warehouse in Norway. I am doing my usual rounds when suddenly my cellphone rings. I notice on the caller ID that it is a very long number from a foreign country. I answer and, lo and behold, it’s a “your Microsoft Windows has a virus” scam. I am somewhat multilingual; I speak Icelandic and Norwegian, can scrape together Danish and Swedish, and have the bare basics in German. I also speak English, of course, but I decide the unlucky SOB has called the ONE person in Norway who doesn’t speak a word in it.)

Me: *automatically speaking in Norwegian* “Hallo, this is [My name]”

Caller: *very foreign accent but speaking English* “Hello. I’m calling from Microsoft because we have detected a virus on your computer.”

Me: *realizing what it is, does not switch to English and continues to speak Norwegian* “I’m sorry? I don’t understand you.”

Caller: “Ah, do you speak English?”

Me: *switches to my mother tongue, Icelandic* “Is this English? I’m sorry; I don’t speak English.

Caller: “English. Do you speak English?”

Me: *in my absolute worst Danish* “I’m sorry; I still don’t understand you.”

(I quickly whisper to my Danish coworker nearby what is happening and they nearly fall down laughing.)

Caller: “ENGLISH! DO YOU SPEAK ENGLISH?!”

Me: *pretends like I’m thinking about it, then exclaims in utter joy, in my bad German* “Deutch? Ja, ich sprechen Deutch!”

(“German? Yes, I speak German.” He hung up for some reason.)

Unfiltered Story #137127

, | Unfiltered | January 23, 2019

I’m the stupid customer in this story.  I try to call a company to get a replacement part for a small appliance.  The phone rings and rings.  Finally…

Employee:  (Very tentative) Hello?

Me:  Hi.  I’m calling to see if I can get a replacement (part).

Employee:  Um, I’m sorry.  I’m part of the cleaning crew.  The company is closed today for Thanksgiving.

Me:  Oh, crap!  I’m sorry!  I’m Canadian.  I totally forgot it was American Thanksgiving today.

Employee:  No problem.  By the way, I love that “Red Green” show.

Don’t Panic; Just Attack

, , , , | Working | January 8, 2019

(I’ve been out of a job for a while due to depression and anxiety issues. Things are getting better, so I apply for a job as a picker for an online supermarket. This company is mostly run by young people who give space to starting adolescents to succeed in the market, no matter the background. I get the job and find out newbies are being put on “flow” duty, meaning that instead of picking orders, as the job description said, I’m stocking crates and the like. That works fine for me, but the crates are quite heavy and the stress level is high. One week in, I’m put on crate supply. This means I have to fill up a big trolley with crates, put it in an elevator, let the elevator go down while I take the stairs down, and unload again a level below, climb back up the stairs, and repeat. People from four different departments are nagging for crates, and I do what I can — on my own — to fill their demands. I feel the anxiety building up but I’m too busy to catch a break. At one point I feel like I’m about to burst, and I ask my department manager, who is quite a stern-looking woman, if there is something else I can do.)

Manager: “What do you mean, you need something else to do? Why can’t you just do your job?”

Me: “I’m terribly sorry, but I’m doing a job that is meant for three people, on my own now, for the last two and a half hours. I’m at the end of my rope here. Can I please go back to filling duty and swap with someone else?”

(Filling means putting plastic bags in the crates. She huffs but agrees, muttering something under her breath about laziness. This adds to my insecurity and I feel tears welling up. I struggle to get a plastic bag to fit over the edges of the crate. The manager comes to stand beside me.)

Manager: *very condescending* “What? Is this too difficult for you, as well?”

Me: *shaking* “Again, I am so sorry. I sometimes get panic attacks and… and… I’m sorry; I have to go take some medicine for it. Excuse me.”

(I bolt to the break room to have a panic attack and take my meds. Unfortunately, I’m not the only person there, and soon enough I’m surrounded by concerned coworkers. I’m sent upstairs to the boss.)

Boss: “I’m so sorry to hear you are having trouble keeping up. I know what it’s like; I used to have panic attacks, too. It’s a nasty business.”

(I’m getting my hopes up; if he understands what it is, he must know how hard it is to keep a job, and will, therefore, show some compassion, right?)

Me: “It’s just the stress of the first week, I assure you. If I can maybe get the rest of the day off, I’ll be fine.”

Boss: “I don’t think you will be. We can’t really use someone like you on the floor. It holds up the production line. I’m sorry, but I have to let you go.”

(Well, so much for compassion, and way to add to the anxiety!)

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