The Optician Needs To Check His Eyesight

, , , | Working | September 9, 2019

(I am eighteen, and unfortunately, my usual glasses break. I decide to go to the ophthalmologist to get a new prescription. Usually, I can’t decide on a new pair of glasses on my own, so I take my mom. At the optician, I explain that I am looking for new glasses. The optician doesn’t really address me, but my mom.)

Optician: “Ooh. No problem. We will find a nice pair of glasses for your daughter. No girl should wear such ugly glasses! Who chose them?!”

Me: “These are my sport glasses. My usual glasses broke. I bought them here last year.”

(I find it a little strange that the optician mostly addresses my mom, or when she does speak to me, it is as if I am a child.)

Optician: “Uh-oh, okay! Well, we have some beautiful frames for girls! Or do you want to have something like for adults?”

(While saying that, she looks at my prescription.)

Optician: “Oh, tomorrow is your birthday! How old are you going to be? Eleven, twelve?”

Me: “Tomorrow I will turn nineteen!”

(The optician’s face turned red and she excused herself. I felt really embarrassed that time but today I can laugh about it. Poor optician. I guess she felt as embarrassed as me.)

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Gonna Party Like It’s Nineteen-Twenty  

, , , | Working | September 9, 2019

(In Norway, the legal drinking age is 18 years for alcohol up to 21%, and 20 years for higher. Different bars have different age admittances based on what age groups they want and are set up for. When my best friend, roommate, and I are 18 we start frequenting this bar that is conveniently located for us, because they happen to have our favorite beer on tap, which is unusual to come by. We usually come in and have a few calm beers a couple of times a month. I even celebrate my 19th birthday party there, with fifteen friends about the same age. We are never a rowdy crowd. We stop going there because we move. A year later, on my best friend’s 20th birthday — my birthday is a month after hers — we decide to go back there for good old times’ sake. The following conversation ensues with a new bartender.)

Me: “I would like a [beer], please.”

Bartender: “Let me see some ID.”

(My best friend and I both give him our cards.)

Bartender: *turns to my best friend* “You are old enough.” *turns to me* “But you are not, so I have to ask you to leave.”

Me: “What?! Your age limit is 20?”

Bartender: “Yes.”

Me: “When did that happen?”

Bartender: “It’s been 20 since it opened.”

Me: “Are you kidding? This was our favorite bar for over a year! I celebrated my 19th birthday here.”

Bartender: “Please leave.”

(I have never gone back there. I can’t believe we never knew… or that they never carded us before. It’s been ten years and it still baffles me.)

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Dining And Dashing To Conclusions

, , , , , , | Working | September 9, 2019

(I am an off-duty police officer, treating a friend to lunch at a place owned by a famous local chef with amazing reviews that has the best burgers I’ve had in a long time. It isn’t busy so we have our waitress’s full attention. She is talkative, she makes jokes, she’s quick with our drinks and taking our order, and she brings our order as soon as it is sent out; all around she’s the PERFECT waitress. She comes around a few times to check on us, but then she just stops coming by our section after a group of young college guys walks in. I don’t know if she knows them or what but she never leaves their side, laughing and carrying on with them. After waiting fifteen minutes for her to bring our bill, we ask another server:)

Other Server: “As I am not your waitress I can’t, but I’ll tell your waitress.”

(Another ten minutes pass by and still no waitress; it is now getting close to 2:30 pm and I need to be home by three to greet my daughters after they get off the school bus.)

Me: “Let’s just leave the money on the table.”

(We look up the menu online and total up our order, including drinks, taxes, and even a tip, writing everything down on a piece of paper with a note explaining our situation. We even leave a little extra to cover anything we forgot, and my official LEO business card which says my police department, full name and badge number, phone number, and email. For some reason, and I’m glad he does, my friend decides to record a video; he turns the camera to the table taking a video of the note, our makeshift bill, and the full money amount. We walk out the door towards our vehicle with him still recording. As we are walking out the door, the waitress and the owner/chef come running out the door screaming.)


Me: “But we have paid.”

Owner: “With who?”

Me: “We left payment on the table.”

(We all walk back inside to the still-cluttered table to show him the $60 cash with the note showing our $42 tally and then what we left.)

Owner: “Why didn’t you wait for your waitress to bring you an official bill?”

(Before I can say anything, my friend, who doesn’t like confrontation but has had enough with being made to wait, speaks up.)

Friend: “We waited for over twenty minutes for her to bring our bill. We even told another waitress—” *points towards the waitress cleaning a nearby table* “—that we wanted our bill.”

(The other server confirms this and says she told our waitress we were waiting for it and that our waitress said she’d take it over in a minute.)

Friend: “But instead of bringing us our bill your waitress decided she would continue to flirt with that group—” *points to group of six guys at a table nearby* “—and refill their drinks twice. As soon as they walked in, she completely ignored us, never offered to refill our drinks, asked if were done to clear the table, or gave us our bill, so we took it upon ourselves to look up your menu online and tally our total and just leave it on the table with the handwritten bill with an $18 tip. He even left his LEO card with his information! I don’t know about those guys, but he needs to get home to his daughters and I need to pick up my wife, so we don’t have all day to just sit around waiting for her to decide which guy she wanted to sleep with.”

(The owner’s mouth is open, slowly gulping like a fish, and turns to look towards the waitress, who looks like she wants to be anywhere else but there at that very moment.)

Owner: “This is the third time you’ve been accused of ignoring customers to hang out with guys from your school, and then you took it a step further and accused them of stealing without even checking the table first!” *turns back to us* “Gentlemen, I am sorry for any inconvenience my former server has caused you. I promise you that this will never ever happen again as she will no longer be working here. Please accept my most sincere apology and accept a $20 gift card for each of you for a future visit and take your money back as the meal is on the house.”

Me: “Thank you, but that is not necessary. The burgers and fries were amazing and we ate them, so we want to pay.”

(I don’t fault the restaurant, just the waitress! We will still go back!)

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You’re Not In Training, But They Should Be

, , , , , | Working | September 9, 2019

(I am about twelve and I am quite “developed.” My mother is taking me shopping for a bra. As we do not have a lot of funds, she takes me to the local hypermarket.)

Mom: *walks up to service counter in clothes department* “Is there any way we could have somebody come over and help us look for a particular size bra?”

Employee: “Yes, I’ll call someone over.”

Mom: “Thanks.”

(We wait with our items until another employee shows up to help us.)

Employee: “Hello, ladies. I’m [Employee]. What can I help you with?”

Mom: “Ah, yes, we are looking for a bra in [size] for my daughter.”

Employee: “Well, she does look quite young. Are you sure she is ready for bras quite yet?”

Mom: “Yes, she has been wearing bras for a few years now. As you can see, she is quite developed.”

Employee: “I see. Well, come with me.”

(We follow her, and she takes us up to a display of what are obviously training bras.)

Employee: “Here you are! Now, getting used to wearing bras can be quite difficult, so I suggest wearing these ones here—”

Mom: “Um, ma’am? We aren’t looking for training bras; we are just looking for [size] for my daughter.”

Employee: “Oh, no, no, no. She needs to get used to wearing one of these first!”

Mom: “She has already been wearing them for quite a while now; I don’t think we will be needing those.”

Employee: “Of course; you will! Getting used to—”

(I cut in.)

Me: “Miss, you aren’t listening. I stopped wearing training bras when I was ten. I’ve been wearing regular bras for two years now. We know what we are talking about. Besides, I don’t think any of those would fit, anyway.” *gestures to my chest*

Employee: *looking shocked* “Well, I… I…”

Me: “Now, if you would kindly show us where we can find [size], that would be great.”

(The employee proceeded to take us to the proper section, giving my mother dirty looks the whole time. Honestly, the nerve of some people!)

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Those Who Give Waiters Words Will Eventually Eat Them  

, , , , , , | Working | September 8, 2019

I was eating alone at a restaurant near the waiters’ station. At one point, I noticed one waiter grin, nudge his colleague, indicate a diner across the room, and say, “He ate it!”

Never give waiters a hard time; they have too many ways to get even.

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