A Selfish Use Of The Book

, , , , , | Right | May 2, 2018

(A patron approaches me at the circulation desk in our public library.)

Patron: “I have something awkward to tell you.”

Me: “I won’t judge. I promise.”

Patron: “Well, you might.” *she shows me a heavy coffee table book, “Selfish,” Kim Kardashian’s selfie book* “The pages are all stuck together, and I thought you should know I found it like this.”

Me: “Well, it’s in no condition to circulate.”

Patron: “The thing is—” *lowers her voice to a whisper* “I know this smell and it’s a man’s… you know.”

(It took a moment to register, before I nervously called over my more senior coworker for moral support. We chucked the book because it was clear the damage was done within the library, since there was no way we would check a book out to anyone in that condition, nor would we return it to the shelf like that. Neither of us could be sure the sticky stuff was what the patron suggested it could be, but we were taking no chances there.)

It Will Be A Smashing Success

, , , | Right | May 1, 2018

(A customer comes in to our fabric store to ask about repairing a small hole in his shirt. I show him the iron-on patches and fabrics we have, and he finds a fabric in the exact colour of his shirt. The customer is absolutely normal and polite up to a certain moment.)

Me: “So, you just cut a piece of this fabric and iron it over the hole, according to the instructions.”

Customer: “So, this will work?”

Me: “As long as you follow the instructions on the package, yes, it will work!”

Customer: “Are you sure? Because if it doesn’t, I’m coming back to smash all your windows!”

Me: “Um… Okay.”

Taking The Career Ladder To The Back

, , , | Right | April 30, 2018

(I am currently on maternity leave, but I need a few things from the dollar store, so I go to my work with my infant son. While wandering the aisles, I notice a little boy playing on one of the ladders. My coworker continually shoos him off of it, only for him to play on it the second she turns her back. Being fed up with the child’s behaviour and lack of supervision, I pick up the ladder and carry it to the back of the store, my son on my hip. About a minute later, I’m confronted by an old lady.)

Old Lady: “Why did you move the ladder? My grandson was playing on it and having fun! You shouldn’t touch things that aren’t yours!”

Me: “I’m sorry, but I didn’t want to see your grandson get hurt, so I took it to the back.”

Old Lady: “I recognize you; you work here! Why aren’t you in uniform?! Why are you carrying around a baby instead of working?! Does your boss know that you’re playing nanny instead of working?!”

Me: “Ma’am, I usually do work here, yes, but I’m on maternity leave with my son. I’m not ‘nannying’ this baby; he’s my baby! Leave me alone!”

Old Lady: “You don’t get maternity leave! You have to have a real job in order to get maternity leave! Besides, I saw you a few months ago and you weren’t pregnant, liar! I bet you kidnapped that baby from some poor, deserving mother! Give him over!”

(I worked until my 38th week of pregnancy, and I was very visibly pregnant for a long time, enough so that people asked me if I was carrying multiples.)

Me: *holding my son closer and stepping back* “Leave me alone! Don’t touch my child!”

(My manager rushes over at the sound of me yelling, just in time to see the lady grab my son’s arm and pull hard on him to try to take him. This startles him, so he starts crying. I slap the lady’s arm away, and retreat back even further.)

Old Lady: *turning to manager* “Your employee assaulted me and kidnapped this child! Call the police!”

(She continued to try to grab my son, so I went to hide in the back room, where my manager stopped her from following me. She stood outside the back room doors for about ten minutes before the police showed up and took her away. My son was okay, but had a nasty bruise on his arm for about a week from her grabbing him!)

Fake 20/20 Vision

, , , , | Right | April 27, 2018

(I work in a bank. A guy I’ve never seen before walks up to my window.)

Customer: “Yeah, can I exchange this $20 for a better-looking one?”

(He hands me an obviously fake $20.)

Me: “Uh, sir, this is counterfeit, and I can’t exchange it. In fact, I can’t even give this back to you.”

Customer: “I got it from my buddy, and he said it went through the wash!”

Me: “I’ve put several 20s through the wash by accident, and none of them have come out looking like this. I’m sorry, but we cannot exchange this.”

Customer: “IT WENT THROUGH THE WASH!”

(He reaches over my window, grabs the $20, rips it into tiny pieces, walks into the lobby, throws them all over the waiting area, and stomps out the door. The branch manager walks out of her office while he’s doing this, then heads up to my window.)

Branch Manager: “What was that?!”

Me: “Counterfeit $20. Happy Monday to us!”

What A Waste Of A Phone Call

, , , | Right | April 24, 2018

(I work at a call centre for a waste services company. It is Friday evening at 4:30; we close at five. I need to make some calls to confirm to people that their hazardous waste is getting picked up in the next week.)

Me: “Hello. This is [My Name] for [Company]. Am I talking to [Garage] in [Town]?”

Customer: “Yeah, that’s us; what do you want?”

Me: “Well, sir, I’m calling to confirm that your hazardous waste is going to get picked up next Wednesday. But we were wondering if you had an email address so we could email you in the future?”

Customer: “You don’t need my f****** email!”

Me: “An email would be to your advantage, sir, as you would have written proof should something ever go wrong.”

Customer: “You don’t need my email, and I didn’t order anything; cancel it.”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir; I can’t cancel anything unless I have written proof, but you can email me at [my company email address].”

Customer: “You b****! You can’t trick me like that! CANCEL IT!”

Me: “Sir, I’m sorry that there is some confusion; you are [Garage], correct?”

Customer: “Yes, and I didn’t order anything!”

Me: “Sir, it says you ordered an emptying of your hazardous waste on [date], and you gave us your personal code.”

Customer: “You can’t prove that that was me; cancel it!”

Me: “Sir, I can’t cancel anything unless I have written proof, so you can email me or fax me.”

Customer: “You can’t f****** prove it was me, b****! CANCEL IT!”

(This little back and forth continues for 20 minutes, at which point two of my colleagues and my manager are listening in, as well, because I’m only doing a summer student job here.)

Customer: “I’ll f****** burn down your building and dump my waste on your head, you b****, and you can’t f****** prove that it was me, so CANCEL! I DIDN’T F****** ORDER ANYTHING!”

Me: “And I could be the bloody queen for all you know. Goodbye.” *hangs up*

Manager: “You had more patience than I would have thought you had; well done!”

Me: “Yeah, but do I need to mail the sales representative or something?”

Manager: “Nah, never mind that. If he doesn’t accept our services the fee for refusal will be enough for us to laugh about!”

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