This Employee’s Days Are Numbered

| Working | February 1, 2013

(I’ve just paid my card off, but the payment isn’t showing up on my account information.)

Agent: “Can I have your payment confirmation number?”

(I start to give him the number, but the agent cuts me off.)

Agent: “That’s not it. Our numbers don’t start that way.”

Me: “I’m reading it directly from the payment screen.”

Agent: “Well, that’s not right, and you need to learn to read more carefully.”

(Eventually, the agent finds the payment using my telephone number.)

Agent: “Okay, I found the payment. You need to write down the confirmation number in case you have to call again. The number is [EXACT same number I gave him earlier]. Can I help you with anything else?”

Me: “No, but you can help yourself by learning to listen.”


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The Feeling Is Mute-ual

, | Working | February 1, 2013

(I pull up to the drive-thru and place my order. However, I ask for clarification on what’s included on a combo as I’ve never eaten at this chain before.)

Employee: “The combo comes with two sides and a drink like it says on the menu.”

(The employee then speaks off the drive-thru intercom to her coworker, unaware I can still hear her.)

Employee: “I love making people feel stupid!”

(Despite hearing this, I decide to let her comment go.)

Me: “Right, well that will be all.”

Employee: “Your total is $6.54. Please pull forward.”

(At the window, I hand her $10.54 since I have an overabundance of change in my car already. I’m expecting four $1 bills, but she starts to hand me my 54 cents back and starts counting back change.)

Me: “No, I should get $4 back.”

Employee: *confused* “What? You gave me too much.”

(We go back and forth for a few seconds before the manager comes over and explains the simple bit of addition and subtraction that took place and counts the $4 back to the cashier so she can give me the correct change. She hands me my money and food, but I couldn’t resist getting the last word in before driving off.)

Me: “I love making people feel stupid.”

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Not Ever Working, Part 12

| Working | January 31, 2013

(I’m out with two of my friends celebrating Friend #1’s birthday. When we arrive at the restaurant, there are three other tables filled. We wait 10 minutes to be seated.)

Waitress: “Drinks?”

Friend #1: “I’ll have a rum and coke.”

Friend #2: “Me too!”

Me: “I’m driving, so just a coke is good, thanks.”

(The waitress leaves and we chat for a bit, and after 20 minutes we start looking around for our waitress. We spot her sitting behind the bar playing on her phone and finally manage to wave her over.)

Waitress: “What?”

Friend #2: “Could we get our drinks, please?”

Waitress: “GOD, you’re so impatient! These things take time, you know!”

(She then storms off before we can tell her we’d like to order. At this point we’re getting irritated but decide to have Friend #1 open her presents. After another 15 minutes of being ignored, we have decided it’s time to give up and go elsewhere. As we’re getting up to leave, the waitress comes back.)

Waitress: “So what, you’re not eating?”

Friend #2: *jaw drops*

Friend #1: “You’re kidding, right?!”

Me: “We were ready to eat 45 minutes ago, but you’ve been avoiding our table all evening, so now we’re leaving.”

Waitress: “Well… I’m the only one here! What am I supposed to do?”

Me: “I dunno, maybe do your job and make sure the couple of tables you have are served?”

Waitress: “Wait! You can’t leave! You have to pay for your drinks!”

Friend #1: “You mean our invisible, imaginary drinks we never got? Yeah, screw you.”

(We ended up going elsewhere where the service was MUCH better. Friend #1 ended up having a really good time for her birthday, but all three of us made sure to call in the next morning to report our experience the prior evening. Never saw that waitress there again.)


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Misogynists Can Make You Fret

| Working | January 31, 2013

(I’m a female musician and own most of my own equipment. While I can’t fix things myself, I do usually know what’s wrong, though most people assume I don’t. In this case, I am 18 and need to get the pickups in my vintage electric guitar rewired. I’ve taken it to a local shop that also does repairs.)

Clerk: “Can I help you?”

Me: “Yeah, I called earlier about my ’72 SG. There’s a faulty connection and the pickups need to be rewired to the toggle switch.”

Clerk: “Are you sure? You probably just had it turned up too loud.”

Me: “No, I’m sure. Can you fix it?”

Clerk: “…Probably. I’ll give you a call when I’ve looked at it…”

(Three days later, they call me back.)

Clerk: “Hey, I looked at the pickups and there’s nothing wrong. You just need to keep the volume down.”

Me: “That shouldn’t matter. Are you sure?”

Clerk: “Yeah. Just come get it.”

(This isn’t the first time I’ve been dismissed at this shop, so I decided to bring my 6’2″ father.)

Clerk: “So you’re here for the guitar?”

Me: “Yeah. Can you explain again what’s wrong?”

(I’m expecting the same simple explanation about the volume, but instead the clerk launches into complex explanation of the problem.)

Clerk: “…and so the pickups were originally wired backwards. I’ll need to take them apart and redo it.”

My Dad: “Then why did you say there was nothing wrong?”

Clerk: “Well, it’s vintage. The parts are hard to replace.”

My Dad: “…But can you do it?”

Clerk: “…Yeah.”

My Dad: “Then why aren’t you?!”

(That was six years ago, and the wiring is still faulty!)

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(Price) Check Your Attitude

| Working | January 31, 2013

(I’m dress shopping and have picked out two that I really like. One is on a sale rack for $12.99, originally $30+. However, the dress rings up at full price.)

Me: “Oh no, that’s supposed to be on sale.”

Cashier: “Uh, well, I can’t change it.”

Me: “But I just got it off the sale rack. Can’t you just look?”

Cashier: “I can’t leave this station.”

Me: “That’s fine, but it’s right there. You can just look around me at it.”

Cashier: “I’m not changing the price.”

Me: “Okay, if you’ll be that unreasonable, go ahead and take it off. I won’t pay full price for it.”

Cashier: “Whatever!”

(I leave, but after an hour I still really want the dress. I suck it up and return to the store. Thankfully, a manager was my cashier and rang me up for the correct price.)

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