It’s A Kobra-Kat!

, , , , , | Working | September 18, 2018

(I am spelling my email address over the phone to get a confirmation notice for an order.)

Me: “A-S-K-A—”

Representative: “A-S-pay-A?”

Me: “No, A-S-K like ‘ask.’”

Representative: “Oh, A like ‘ask,’ S like ‘swan,’ K like ‘cat.’”

Me: “That’s right, A-S-K-A… No, wait…”

Representative: “I’m sorry; I mean K as in ‘cobra’!”

Me: “…”

Representative: “Kangaroo! Kangaroo.”

Me: “That’s the one.”

Representative: “Sorry, I’m really not awake yet.”

Me: “No problem. I was about to go right along with you!”

Fragile Masculinity On Speakerphone

, , , , | Working | September 17, 2018

(A coworker and I are checking inventory in the aisles. A few other coworkers are working in the stockroom.)

Coworker: *in stockroom, over headset* “Which one of you guys has a small one?”

(There is stunned silence, while a coworker near me and I look at each other funny.)

Coworker: *near me* “[Stockroom Coworker], I don’t think anyone is going to answer that.”

(Apparently, she wanted to ask who was using one of our small pallet jacks.)

Throwing Out Or Throwing Up?

, , , , | Working | September 17, 2018

(The cat food production line has started to reek, so when I have some downtime, I go through and find out that line workers have been just putting open, rotting, maggot-infested boxes of cat food under tables, maybe to hide them. I get a bin and some gloves and start throwing the opened and contaminated stuff into the bins. A new guy walks up to me.)

New Guy: “Are you just throwing those out?”

Me: “Yep.”

New Guy: “Can we take them?”

Me: *looking horrified* “What?!”

New Guy: “Well, if the company is throwing them out, can we take them?”

Me: “You don’t want them! Do you smell that? Do you see the things moving?”

New Guy: “Well, some look okay.”

Me: “They are contaminated. I’m throwing them into a special large trash can, which is locked… and now I know why.”

They’re In Hot Sauce Now

, , , , , | Working | September 17, 2018

(I’m going to grab some lunch at a fast food place. I like to have a particular kind of sauce with my meal because before my father died, he would always get the same sauces and we’d eat together. It’s a way of making me feel like he’s still with me. So, naturally, I ask for this sauce when I go to order. It’s typical that this gets mixed up with a similar sauce when I get my food. I point it out and get a quick apology for the mix-up and the right sauce. At least, that’s what normally happens.)

Me: *seeing I have honey mustard instead of hot mustard* “Excuse me. I was given the wrong sauce. I asked for hot mustard.”

Cashier: *snottily* “Well, it’s the exact same thing.”

Me: “With all due respect, it’s not. Please, may I get hot mustard, instead?”

Cashier: “We’re all out.”

(I can see where they keep the sauces, and I can tell you, it most definitely isn’t out.)

Me: “Please, one is all I need.”

Cashier: “I don’t have to give you any! You don’t need anything else!”

Me: *smiling politely* “May I speak to your manager, please?”

(She brings the manager, obviously telling him her side of the conversation, and I hear her tell him that I am cussing her out.)

Manager: “Ma’am, I heard you were verbally abusing my employee.”

Me: *shaking my head* “No, sir. I simply asked for hot mustard instead of honey mustard. I still would like that, but I wanted you aware of her actions. She spoke to me rudely, proceeded to lie to me, and then told me what I consider to be an insult.”

Manager: “I don’t believe that. She’s our best employee here and—”

(A nearby customer has been looking at the menu the entire time, so he has heard everything.)

Customer: “The girl’s right; she never said anything rude. She was polite the whole time she was getting harassed. Doesn’t matter if she’s your best employee or not. She insulted a customer, who I’m surprised is still here.”

(The manager’s eyes widened as he looked at his cashier, telling her to get me the sauce I asked for. I thanked her in as polite a tone as I could muster and went to eat. The customer then stopped by my table. Turns out he was the manager’s brother!)

A Signature Move From An Incompetent Person

, , , , , | Working | September 16, 2018

(The Vice President of our company has authorized me to send some biological samples to a microscopy lab, but she has apparently forgotten that she gave permission. This particular Vice President is one of those people who can never, ever be wrong.)

Vice President: *yelling* “You sent the samples to [other lab]? You can’t just do that! You’re never allowed to bring these samples offsite without my permission!”

Me: “But you gave me your permission.”

Vice President: “No, I didn’t! I never would have agreed to that! We have procedures here, and apparently you don’t feel like following them!”

(I walk out of her office and straight to my desk, where I pick up the Request Form that she signed the previous day to authorize me to bring the samples to [other lab]. I return to her office and place the form on her desk, assuming that I’m playing the trump card by showing her, indisputably, that she approved this transfer of samples. She’s quiet for a few moments while she stares at the Request Form, and I think I’ve won. But then:)

Vice President: *yelling again* “That’s not my signature!”

(And that’s why, at the company where I work, even getting everything in writing is insufficient.)

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