Please Don’t Touch Yourself

| Working | November 20, 2012

Keep Your Head High And Your Expectations Hire

| Ottawa, ON, Canada | Working | November 20, 2012

(I am applying at a local nursing home for a job. While I am waiting in the lobby for my interview, I see an elderly woman fall to the ground. A nurse helps her up and sits her on a bench, but leaves the elderly woman unattended while she goes to get a wheelchair. The elderly woman, who is bleeding from the eye and clearly disoriented, gets up to walk again. Being the only other person other than the residents around, I try to coax her back to her seat to prevent her from falling again. At this moment, the manager comes out to get me for my interview.)

Manager: “Miss [my name]? Come with me, please.”

Me: “Um, the nurse has just gone to get this woman’s wheel chair. She just&mash;”

Manager: “Well, yes then. Come with me, please.”

Me: “Well, shouldn’t we—”

(The manager is walking away at this point and the other nurse has arrived with the wheelchair, so I reluctantly leave the woman and follow the manager. We get into the office and the manager closes the door and stares at me.)

Manager: “Well, first of all, I’m going to let it go that you were so rude to me just then.”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Manager: “You’re here for a job, and you start barking orders at me to get the patient a wheelchair. I felt that this was very rude and unprofessional.”

Me: “I’m… I’m really so sorry. I had absolutely no intentions of being rude to you. That patient had just fallen on the floor and was bleeding. The nurse told her to stay seated until she came with her wheelchair. I was just trying to make you aware of it because I didn’t want to leaver the poor dear and risk her falling again. She was bleeding!”

Manager: “Yes, well, and that’s another thing! You keep calling her ‘poor thing’ and a ‘patient.’ Here, we call them ‘residents’ or ‘clients.’ And don’t ever call them ‘poor’-anything, because you’ll insult them.”

Me: “I’m so sorry.”

Manager: “Well, it’s fine. I know sometimes you teenagers don’t know how to conduct yourselves in a proper manner in the work place or with people in authority. It’s to be expected, but you’d better shape up fast.”

(Note: I am 23 years old, married, have 2 children, and have been working since I was 15 years old. However, I choose to let that remark go. After 10 minutes, I realize she is basically looking to hire me on for the summer to work the shifts that she and her coworkers want off. This leaves me as the sole person in the building on certain nights, such as Canada Day.)

Manager: “So, you would be working probably 6 pm to 2 am Canada Day night. You understand that, right?”

Me: “Yes. We were only planning to take the children out in the afternoon anyhow.”

Manager: “…Children? How old are you?”

Me: “I’m old enough to to married with a 5 and 7 year old, and old enough to have been in the work force full time for the past 8 years.”

Manager: “Well, anyway… um… do you feel comfortable handing out medications? Like, to the residents?”

Me: “Well, I’m not certified to, but if we’re talking aspirin and laxatives, I could probably handle that.”

Manager: “Alright, you can start tomorrow night. You’ll be distributing medication to all the residents by yourself on the first night…”

(Despite this offer, I decide after leaving the interview that I really want nothing to do with that establishment. Thankfully, I ace my second interview for another job, and call the first manager to let her know I didn’t want their job.)

Manager: “Why may I ask have you changed your mind?”

Me: “Well, first off, I felt that your lack of concern for your residents was appalling. Your resident was bleeding and clearly confused and you were willing to leave her unattended because you felt I had been rude to you by trying to inform you of the situation. Secondly, you reprimanded me and accused me of being a disrespectful teenager. If you had actually bothered to look at my resume, you would have seen that I have been in the workforce for several years and am out of high school, making your statement unfounded. Thirdly, I felt that you were a little too eager to hire a ‘disrespectful teenager’ with a poor work ethic and zero medical certifications to stay alone with and distribute medications to residents all so that you and your coworkers could enjoy your summer holidays. So, thank you for your time and consideration, but for those reasons I don’t want to be a member of your company or be affiliated with you in anyway.”

Manager: “Yeah, well… don’t even THINK about using us as a reference on your resume!”

Me: “I wouldn’t if I could. Have a nice night.”

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Discretion Is The Better Part Of Disclosure, Part 2

| South Australia, Australia | Working | November 20, 2012

(I’m a customer waiting in line. The young woman in front of me is being served by a nice but somewhat ditzy cashier.)

Cashier: “Oh, whoops! These aren’t scanning. I’ll just get a price check.”

(The cashier holds up a little blue box and starts waving it around, then shouts to a coworker in one of the aisles.)

Cashier: “Yo, [coworker]! I need a price check on these [brand] condoms in XXL size!”

Young Woman: *blushes* “Oh my God, don’t worry about them. I’ll just get these.”

Coworker: *shouts back* “WHAT KIND?!”

Cashier: “EXTENDED PLEASURE!”

Young Woman: *looks mortified and practically runs out of the store*

 

Someone Needs To Get His Brain In Gear, Part 2

| Colorado, USA | Working | November 20, 2012

(I have just gotten pulled over by the police, but I’m not sure why.)

Me: “Is something wrong, Officer?”

Officer: “Do you know how fast you were going?”

Me: “Um, 38, I think?”

Officer: “And do you know what the speed limit is here?”

(I do know the speed limit, as I drive this stretch of road daily.)

Me: “40?”

Officer: *looks confused* “…Well, you have a nice day then!”

 

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Giving Customer Service A Bad Name, Part 4

, | Metuchen, NJ, USA | Working | November 20, 2012

(I am not Arabic, but my name, Khadijah, is. On my way home from school, I stop for a bite at a fast food place. I’ve forgotten to take off my school ID, which has my name printed in rather big letters.)

Cashier: “That’ll be [price].”

(I pay her. As she takes the money, I notice her squint her eyes at my school ID.)

Cashier: “What the heck? What does that say?”

Me: “What?”

Cashier: “Your school ID? That’s your name?”

Me: “Oh! Yes, I guess I forgot to take it off. My name is Khadijah.”

(She tries to repeat my name, but says it wrong. She then scoffs as if she’s annoyed.)

Cashier: “You black people are all the same. Why can’t you have normal names instead of made up s***?”

Me: “Excuse me? My name is not made up! It’s of Arabic origin.”

Cashier: “Then you need to get a name that’s American if you’re gonna live here. But really, ‘Khadijah’ sounds like something from the ghetto. I feel sorry for you with that name. People will think you’re some kind of trash w***e or something.”

Me: “Well, it’s not, and I like my name very much, thank you! And, FYI, I was born in this country and have lived here my whole life. May I please just have my food?”

Cashier: *shuts up and gives me my food*

(Thankfully when I went there a few weeks later, I learned she’d been fired for her comments to me.)

 

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