A Little Nugget Of Information

, , , , , , | Working | February 5, 2019

(Overheard between two employees at a popular fast food place:)

Employee: “[Coworker], can you stop eating the chicken nuggets long enough for me to fill this order?”

His Crowning Stupidity

, , , , | Legal | January 28, 2019

(I work for a small business that does horse trails through an area of public forest that is technically “Crown Land” — i.e. belongs to the Queen by default — and has some conservation rules. We have been having difficulty with a man owning a neighbouring property who wants to use the crown land as his own. He has gone as far as shooting at our rides from a distance, and police have been involved several times at this stage. After a long day of work, in which we dismantled some obstacles he left on the land, he pulls up at our worksite to yell out of his car. It is just me, a teenage girl, and my boss, a short, middle-aged lady.)

Neighbour: “You cut my fences!”

Boss: “No, we haven’t. We don’t go on your property.”

Neighbour: “You cut the fence by the river!”

Boss: “The river isn’t on your land. It’s crown land. It’s illegal to fence off public land for your own use.”

Neighbour: *now shouting* “I own up to the river edge—“

Boss: “No, you don’t. Your property line is 30m from the river.”

Neighbour: “I have permission from the owner to use it!”

Boss: “No, you don’t. Crown land has no owner.”

Me: *mostly to myself* “Well, it does have an owner.”

Boss: “What?”

Me: “The Queen?”

Boss: “Oh, my God.” *to the neighbour* “Are you trying to say the Queen was like, ‘Oh, sure, no problem’? How dumb are you?” *loudly, to me* “Hang on while I call the police.”

(The neighbour left immediately. We continued to destroy every fence he built illegally to block our rides.)

They Expect It To Be Handed To Them On A Silver Platter

, , , , | Right | January 20, 2019

(The grocery deli where I work offers a variety of deli trays for ordering. Because of the time that goes into preparing these trays and because we are a busy location, we require at least 24 hours notice for these orders. A well-dressed, middle-aged woman comes up to the counter around 9:00 am. It’s important to note that during no point of this transaction does she seem like someone who has suffered recent emotional trauma. I go up to help her.)

Me: “Hi. What can I get for you?”

Customer: “Could I order a tray and pick it up today at 3:00 pm?”

Me: “I’m sorry, but we need at least 24 hours notice for our trays.”

Customer: *suddenly glaring* “Are you telling me no?”

Me: *taken aback and unsure how to politely make my “no” any more clear* “Well, as 3:00 pm today is well within a 24-hour period, no, we cannot fulfill your request.”

Customer: *angrily* “Listen. Someone in my family just died, and—“

(I REALLY wanted to hear the rest of that sentence and find out how a death in the family was going to justify yelling at a deli worker for doing their job, but regretfully this was the point at which my manager took over and I reluctantly went back to my original tasks, overhearing nothing else. I found out later that not only did my manager let the lady place an order for 3;00 pm that day, but she also let her order not just one, but four trays. We got the order done in time, but it was pretty hellish to frantically work on those four trays during the lunch rush. Unfortunately, my shift ended before the pickup, so I never saw if she came on time, was remotely grateful, or explained why she so desperately needed the trays. Forgive my callousness, but assuming she wasn’t making the whole thing up, I think her family would have forgiven her if she’d pick up some sandwiches instead of fancy fruit and cheese trays, even in her time of grief.)

Stuck Under The Cart

, , , , , , | Right | January 20, 2019

I’m cashiering at a big chain store, and a mother and her two kids come through my lane. The little girl is calmly sitting in the cart, while her older brother is climbing under the cart, despite his mom telling him to stop.

We have stickers at the registers to hand out to kids, so I ask if anyone wants one. I hand one to the little girl, and the boy climbs out from under the cart to grab one. I try to make the mom’s life easier and tell him, “This means you can’t go back under the cart, all right?”

At first, my ploy seems to work… until the boy puts the sticker back on my counter and climbs back under the cart.

At least he gave the sticker back?

He Can’t Recover From That

, , , | Legal Right | January 12, 2019

(At the store where I work, when someone is stopped from stealing something, whether accidentally or on purpose, it’s called a recovery. An hour before closing I’m on self-checkout, next to the only open register at the front end. Since it’s dead, the other cashier and I are standing on the aisle, waiting for customers. A man comes speed-walking towards us.)

Coworker: “Hi there, are you ready?”

Man: *gesturing in the general direction of service desk and holding one of our buckets, which clearly has something in it* “No, I already paid.”

(He rushes past us. Since we’ve been getting a lot of people walking out with unpaid merchandise, I immediately follow him to ask for his receipt. The alarms start going off around him and I dash towards him.)

Man: “Oh, is it the bucket that’s setting them off? Here, you can have it back.”

(He drops the bucket and runs out the door empty-handed. I grab the bucket and look into it, grinning. There are two large packs of batteries, which are high-theft merchandise and therefore have sensors in them.)

Coworker: *runs up to me* “What just happened?”

Me: “I think we just made a recovery.”

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