Confirmation Recantation  

, , , , | Right | October 5, 2019

(We aren’t fast food; we are casual dining, which means we make every sandwich from scratch and pour soups. Usually, we plan our work schedules around expected rush periods. Occasionally, though, some rushes happen outside of those hours and we don’t have the staff to handle them quickly. During that time, we get drive-offs — people tired of waiting who just drive off instead of stopping to pay and get their food. To make sure we get the right food to the right people we read back the orders at the window. Today, we lost a customer.)

Coworker: “Okay, so, you’re my bowl of chicken noodle soup?” *only thing in the order on her screen*

Customer: “Yup, that’s us.”

(My coworker then puts the soup into a bag, adds some napkins, and hands it off to them as they start to hand over their payment.)

Customer: “Wait. Where is the rest of our order?”

Coworker: “Uh, this is the bowl of chicken noodle soup; you confirmed this was your order.”

Customer: “Well, yes, but what about our sandwiches? Didn’t you write our order down?”

(Seeing that this is quickly going south, I jump over and offer help.)

Me: “We’re sorry about that. You confirmed that this soup order was yours and—”

(I am about to mention that it appears that the next order — a bowl of chicken noodle and the sandwiches they ordered — is their order, not the one they confirmed. I am being nice and apologizing even though it was their mistake and not ours. However, they decide not to let me finish.)

Customer: “Screw this; we are never coming back here! This is bulls***! You should have written our order down!”

(They then drove off without even the soup, only pausing long enough to snatch back their card. On the plus side, I got a free lunch. It boggles my mind that people will confirm food as being theirs when it clearly isn’t.)

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Happens All The Bloody Time

, , , , | Healthy | October 5, 2019

(I donate blood about every two months, provided that I’m healthy enough to do so. One thing the blood bank screens for is anemia: my hematocrit has to be 38 or higher to donate and not become anemic from it. Hematocrit in the low 30s is anemic; around mid-20s you’d probably need a transfusion yourself. But some time in the last eight weeks, the blood bank switched to testing hemoglobin instead, the minimum donation number for which is 12.5. I didn’t know it was a new test.)

Phlebotomist: “Okay, your temperature, blood pressure, and pulse look good. Let’s test your iron.” *pricks my finger, takes a few drops of blood, and puts them in the tester* “You’re testing at 12.6.”

Me: “My hematocrit is 12.6? Should I go to the hospital?”

Phlebotomist: “What? Why? Oh! No, your hemoglobin is 12.6, which for our purposes is equivalent to a 39 hematocrit. You’re fine to donate. If you had a 12.6 hematocrit, you’d be unconscious at least. I’d be calling an ambulance… or a hearse.”

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Tearing Down The Rounding Up

, , , , , | Right | September 30, 2019

(At the store chain I work for, we ask customers if they are interested in donating to local charities so that we can better help the people in our community. Considering the state of our local economy, people often don’t have much to spare so we completely understand if they say no. Some people, however, seem to think they need to justify their decision. One notable example comes from a middle-aged woman who had just come in for a few small things.)

Me: “Okaaay, your total is [amount]. Would you like to round up to help support [Local Charity]?”

Customer: “No, I won’t. Not after last time.”

Me: *confused* “Oh? I’m sorry. What happened?”

Customer: “Well, I was checking out at another one of your stores and I decided to let the man checking me out round up since it was only a few cents. But when I got home, I saw that he’d added $15 to my total. I was so mad.”

Me: *horrified* “That’s awful. I’m sorry you had to deal with that. I hope he was properly punished after you complained about him.”

Customer: “I didn’t complain.”

Me: “I’m sorry, what? Why not? What he did was wrong and it reflects badly on the company. You deserved to get your money back and he needs to be held accountable for his actions.”

Customer: *starts looking agitated* “I was just so mad I couldn’t bring myself to go back to that store. That’s why I come here now. Just to be safe, though, I have sworn off ever donating to your store’s charities.”

(What I say next, I realize I probably shouldn’t. But I just cannot follow her logic.)

Me: “So, you’ve vowed to never help others to spite a man who wronged you that will never know you are spiting him and will never have to suffer the consequences of his actions?”

Customer: *staring at me like a deer in the headlights* “I just feel it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

(After she left, I talked to one of my senior coworkers about the exchange and she said that the woman probably just didn’t want to donate and made up the whole thing to justify it. I can’t say for sure how real her claims are, though. I know there are employees out there that would no doubt take advantage of someone like that but if you catch them doing it, you have to call them out on it. Claiming to be “so mad” but doing nothing about it will not fix the problem and only leaves the bad employee to hurt someone else later. Also, there’s nothing wrong with not wanting to donate. Lots of people every day turn us down. But we do appreciate the people that do, since these charities do a lot of good. I dunno, there are just too many unanswered questions and the logic behind it doesn’t quite add up.)

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Can’t Sweet Talk Them Out Of This One

, , , , , | Right | September 27, 2019

Customer: “Hi. I would like a coffee that’s sweet but not too sweet. What do you recommend?”

Me: “How about a vanilla latte? It’s sweet but pretty mellow. We can also make drinks half sweet if you would prefer that.”

Customer: *without skipping a beat* “I’ll take a large iced white chocolate mocha with extra whipped cream.”

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Unfiltered Story #167657

, , , | Unfiltered | September 24, 2019

(One day, a mother and her nine year old son come into the hospital, where I am waiting with my mother for her treatment, and the son is pretty badly injured, and obviously in pain.)
Mother: “Hi, can I have someone look at my son to see if needs treatment?”
Nurse: *takes one look at the boy and gasps* “Ma’am, come this way immediately! We need to help him!”
Mom: *not budging* “Yes, yes, I know. You want my money and all that. But before you do that, can we just have a REAL doctor come and look at him?”
Nurse: “Ma’am, it’s pretty easy to tell what has happened to him, and we don’t need a doctor to-“
Mom: “No, no, no! I want a REAL doctor to come and look at him! Not some pretty face in a nurse costume!”
Nurse: “Oh, screw it. [Coworker’s Name], bring him to Dr [Name] and get him treated right away!”
Mom: “Oh my god, people. I just want to know if I’ll have to pay for him. I was hoping it wasn’t too bad, and we could just let it be. Now I have to pay for something he might not have needed.”
Nurse: *gaping at the mom*
Mom: “Well? I have to keep a tight budget, my family is low on money and we need to save-“
Me: *couldn’t take it any longer* “Which is why you’re standing there with a Hermes bag on your arm, in a Versace dress and designer heels, parking a red Porsche outside. And I don’t know if you’re short-sighted or whatever (humph from the Mom) but EVERYONE ELSE in this room can see your son has a GIANT, GAPING CUT on his arm that has BLOOD FLOWING all over his clothes. I don’t know if you’re clueless, hopeless, or just neglecting your child because of money you can obviously spare. Go to your son, and we all pray to God for him. He needs all the divine help he can get, with you as a mother.”
(I sit down and everyone around me clamours in agreement. The mother stammers a ‘sorry’, turns bright red and rushes off to her son. I hope he was alright!)