A Significant Degree Of Stupidity

, , , , , | Working | November 17, 2018

I work in a coffee shop in a very student-heavy town. We are known globally for the standard of our students. The coffee shop is attached to a bar, so when the cafe closes, the bar opens, and we often clear the bar area in the mornings.

I get assigned a new coworker who is a student at the local university. On his first day, he has his safety talk and induction. On the second day, I have to remind him that taking a tray out of the 200-degree oven with your bare hands is not a good idea, as it will hurt. This lesson has to be repeated every day until it is decided he isn’t safe near the oven.

On the next week, he and I are on opening duties, so we have to clear the bar area. I take all the dregs and put them in a jug; as I am clearing I put the jug on the side. This brain box decides to try and drink the dregs, is promptly sick, and is sent home.

After this and similar instances of brainlessness, he is let go from the company. Can’t say I miss the walking disaster.

When Management Messes With Maleficent

, , , , , , | Working | November 16, 2018

(I’m a woman, and I’m in the feminine product aisle. I hear a loud noise behind me.)

Old Woman: “AHEM! Where are your [items]?”

Me: “I dunno. Try [the section likely to have said item].”

(I turn back, still trying find my preferred item.)

Old Woman: “EXCUSE ME! I ASKED YOU WHERE [ITEM] WAS!”

Me: “And I told you that I don’t know. Here’s a pro tip. Go find it yourself, or go ask someone who actually works here.”

(It is worth it to note that I am wearing a black shirt with [horned Disney Villain] on it. It is very much NOT a uniform employees would be allowed to wear. I find my necessary package of product and put it into the basket on my arm, before turning around and walking away. I’ve moved on three more aisles when an enraged-looking manager suddenly looms over me.)

Manager: “What the f*** did you think you were doing?”

Me: “Beg pardon?”

Manager: “What. The f***. Did. You. Think. You. Were. Doing?”

Me: “I would appreciate some context, please?”

(While this is delivered in the most non-sarcastic, genuinely confused tone of voice I can muster, it sets him off.)

Manager: “Maybe you’re new to this, but the Christmas season? You know, the time when we have a bunch of customers pouring in to buy presents for their kids? Yeah, that’s happening right now, and you’re sitting here f****** around with your g**d*** baby wipes! And a customer who asked you an honest question doesn’t need your attitude.”

(I look to him, then the basket in my hand, then at my black [Disney villain] shirt, and back to him.)

Me: “I don’t—”

Manager: “I don’t care what you think!”

(He gets really close to me at this point, and actually backs me into a corner.)

Manager: “You need to work on your customer service skills!”

(I try to say my side, that I don’t work at this business, and that I’m trying to shop, and all that gets an explosion before I get two words out.)

Manager: “I’M NOT HERE TALKING TO YOU SO YOU CAN ARGUE BACK! YOU WILL LEARN RESPECT! YOU WILL SHUT UP AND ACTUALLY LISTEN TO ME! YOU WILL NOT ACT LIKE A SPOILED F****** BRAT TO CUSTOMERS—”

Me: “I didn-“

Manager: “STOP. TALKING. I DON’T WANT TO F****** HEAR IT. SHUT! UP! NOW! YOU’RE A WASTE OF SPACE! YOU’RE GOING TO GET YOUR F****** A** INTO MY OFFICE!”

Security Guard: “Excuse me. Just what the h*** is going on over here?!”

(This situation looks bad from every angle. I’m a woman, backed into a corner by a much taller, screaming man. I have this man in my face, screaming obscenities and abuse. Tears streaming down my face, I look at the security guard and scream hysterically:)

Me: “FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, GET HIM AWAY FROM ME!”

(Somewhere in my hysterics, I vaguely recall reality had apparently snapped back into the manager’s brain, as he jumped back from me and spluttered something that sounded vaguely apologetic and explanatory. I have flashes of a lady leading me away from the scene, flashes of the security guard planted between myself and my assailant, and a single, crystal clear image of a box of tissues getting pressed into my hands. It took quite a bit of time to get me back into a position of “functioning human” and away from “blubbering, traumatized mess.” By the time I was stable again, police were very much involved. Statements were taken, and yes, I wanted to press charges against this psychopath. This couldn’t possibly be his first incident, after all. The company got in contact with me right away, doing a frantic dance of appeasement, apology, and PR rescue… but regardless, I don’t think I want to shop there again for a long while.)

They’re Harping On About Your Guitar String

, , , , , | Working | November 16, 2018

My cousin is 17 and has been home alone for an entire month while her parents are on a trip. Though family often visit, she’s by herself every night.

There have been several reports by a neighbour about someone playing guitar too loud at night. My cousin has heard it, too, but a security guard often comes up the next day to tell her to stop, even though she says it wasn’t her.

One night, when the playing starts, she goes downstairs to the guard so they can see it isn’t her. He, however, refuses to go up and investigate ASAP. The next day, a different guard comes up to my cousin to tell her to stop again!

This time my cousin proudly sticks all ten of her one-and-a-half-inch, brightly-colored, real fingernails in the guard’s face and asks if the guard really thinks she is the one playing.

That finally gets an investigation, and the guard check every apartment nearby and find other neighbours that heard it but never reported it. Apparently, the issue was also with the first neighbour, who reported the sound coming from the wrong direction.

Fedora Sales Increase After Discovery They Make Old Men Look Like Teenagers

, , , , , | Working | November 16, 2018

(My family has met up for a casual vacation and reunion at a popular tourist beach location. Our first night, a bunch of us go out to eat. The youngest person in the group is in their mid-twenties, and the oldest is in their fifties. We order food at the bar and take it onto the patio to eat, when an employee angrily comes outside.)

Employee: “Get out of here! We told you, you can’t hang out here!”

Cousin #1: “What?”

Employee: “The boss said if I saw you again to call the cops! You’d better be gone by the time they get here!”

Cousin #2: “I think there’s been some mistake.”

(The employee turns and goes back inside. Confused, I head back inside the dining room, and approach the hostess.)

Me: “Excuse me? Is there some problem with eating on the patio? We’d be happy to move.”

Hostess: “Oh, you’re fine. The employee just saw a bunch of teenagers who hang out there, graffiti the tables, and scare away paying customers.”

Me: “Well, he yelled at my family, who are paying customers and not teenagers.”

(The hostess stares at me for a moment. Then she walks over to look out the window to the patio, and rushes back to the kitchen. My family, intimidated, is debating leaving when the employee walks out, following an older woman who identifies herself as the owner.)

Owner: “There seems to have been a terrible mistake. My employee here mistook you for some teenagers—”

(The older members of my family start laughing.)

Employee: *pointing to my uncle* “They have the same hat as you!”

(My uncle sweeps off his fedora, revealing gray hair and a massive bald spot.)

Uncle: “It keeps the sun off!”

(We ended up getting our meals comped, and the employee was forced to apologize. Afterwards, we all had jokes about how well we all aged!)

PEBCAK, Episode VIII

, , , , | Working | November 15, 2018

(I work as a network specialist for a large manufacturing company. One day my supervisor receives a call from a very irate secretary saying that a certain VIP’s computer is not turning on and he is furious. He is in his office that he uses once a year; he is an overseas executive for the company. My supervisor sees that I am the only person in the office at the moment and asks me to take care of it. Naturally, I want to know exactly what the problem is before I drive across the manufacturing plant, so I call the secretary back.)

Me: “Hello, this is [My Name] from the IT department. I was told that [VIP]’s computer is not working; what exactly seems to be the problem?”

Secretary: “Yes, he is furious. He came in and the computer would not turn on. He wants his computer working by the time he comes back. You’d better come out here immediately; he has the power to fire everyone in your entire department.”

Me: “Um, okay. Well, before I come out there, I need to know exactly what is not working. Are you in front of the computer right now?”

Secretary: “Just come fix it, right now!”

Me: “Ma’am, I will gladly come out there to work on it, but I need to know exactly what the problem is, so I know what I might need to bring with me. Are you in front of the computer right now?”

(She sighs, and I can hear her get up and walk around.)

Secretary: “Fine. Now what?”

Me: “What happens when you press the power button on the computer?”

Secretary: “Nothing!”

Me: “Can you please press it now for me?”

Secretary: “Nothing happened. Just come fix it.”

Me: “Nothing? Did any lights come on? Did the button flash amber, or white, or blue, or anything?”

Secretary: “No, nothing.”

Me: “Will you press it again and watch the button for me?”

Secretary: “Okay, it flashed yellow and turned off.”

Me: “Okay, keep watching.”

Secretary: “Okay, it flashed white… Now it’s steady white.”

Me: “Okay, please look at the monitor.”

Secretary: “Oh, it’s on. What did you do?”

Me: “Don’t worry, ma’am; it was just a PEBCAK error. It should be fine now.”

(My supervisor literally face-palmed when I told him. He laughed when he read my report, in which I actually used “PEBCAK error.”)

Related:
PEBCAK, Episode VII
PEBCAK, Episode VI
PEBCAK, Episode V

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