The Land Of Milk And Money
BAD BEHAVIOR, BIGOTRY, FARM, MONEY | RIGHT | NOVEMBER 23, 2009
(I am working at a packing house, cutting checks for local dairy farmers who sell us one or two cows at a time. They are given a scale ticket in the barn, which I use to cut a check.)
Me: “Hi, can I have your scale ticket?”
Farmer: “I’d like him to help me.” *points at a USDA associate*
Me: “Sorry, sir, but he doesn’t work for us. He works for the USDA.”
Farmer: “Well, I’d like you to find a MAN who can cut me a check for my cows.”
Me: “I’m sorry, but none of the men that work here know how to cut checks. All our office staff members are women.”
Farmer: “Don’t lie, you little hussy! Only men can run a business! You go back to making coffee!”
Me: “Sir, you run a dairy farm, correct?”
Farmer: “Yeah.”
Me: “And you make money from the milk you sell?”
Farmer: “That’s how a dairy farm works, sweetheart. Now get me a–”
Every (Bad) Crowd Has A Silver Lining
BAD BEHAVIOR, COLLEGE & UNIVERSITY, EDITORS' CHOICE, HEALTH & BODY | RIGHT | SEPTEMBER 3, 2009
(When I was in college, I used to work in the cafeteria. On this day, two girls are making fun of a third.)
Mean Girl #1 : “Oooooh, a hamburger? So much for that diet.”
Mean Girl #2 : “Are you kidding? She’s never been on a diet in her life!”
(The third girl who they are talking to is, for the record, very nice looking.)
Girl #3 : *taken aback* “I… I worked out today. I need the protein.”
Me: “Come on, leave her alone. She can eat whatever she wants!”
Mean Girl #1 : “Yeah, I guess you don’t have to worry about what you eat if you’re already fat and ugly!”
(One of my coworkers has been listening from a distance. He walks over, looks all three girls up and down, and then turns to the third.)
Coworker: “Excuse me, miss, but do you think I could get your phone number?”
Fighting Fire With Fire
AWESOME, RESTAURANT, WILD & UNRULY | RIGHT | AUGUST 13, 2008
(A father is letting five kids make a complete mess of the restaurant. They’re ripping napkins and using it as confetti, breaking chopsticks, and screaming their little heads off.)
Me: “Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to tell them to stop doing that. They are disturbing the other customers.”
Father: *beaming* “No.”
Me: “No, as in, no, you won’t tell them to stop it?”
Father: *still beaming*“Yes.”
(I have to get back to work at this point and sure enough, the kids keep misbehaving. Several customers complain to me but I have no authority to throw them out. The last to complain is a table with about eight young guys.)
Customer #1 : “So there’s nothing you can do about them?”
Me: “I’m so very sorry, sir, but no. I can get you a drink from the house to make up for it.”
(The customer gets up and the others immediately follow him to the noisy, messy table. They’re now surrounded by eight tall, young men who look mighty pissed.)
Customer #3 : *to the father* “Tell them to stop it.”
Customer #1 : “No, we’re from that prison up the street. We’re out on parole. Funny coincidence, we all served seven years for kidnapping and murdering a bunch of noisy brats and a jerk who made minimum-wage waitresses cry.”
(At this point the kids become very, very quiet and the other patrons start giggling and staring.)
(One more lecherous grin was enough to send the whole bunch of misfits scurrying to the exit. My knights in shining armor actually got applause from the other diners and a free meal from me.)
Paging Leonidas To The Front Desk
EDITORS' CHOICE, HARDWARE STORE, JERK | RIGHT | SEPTEMBER 18, 2008
Customer: “Look! My friend told me I could get this type of hammer at your store! Now go get it for me!”
Cashier: “Sir, I already told you… We don’t have ANY hammers back here that aren’t already stocked on the shelves.”
Customer: “LOOK HERE. F**K YOU! I KNOW YOU’RE TRYING TO SAVE MONEY BY SWITCHING OUT YOUR STOCKS! GET ME THIS HAMMER!”
(At this point, I come to the front of the store, overhearing what’s going on; note that I’m the manager.)
Me: “Is there a problem?”
Customer: “Yes, sir! Your employee here is not doing what I tell her to!”
Me: “Well, you need to calm down and understand that we don’t have what you’re looking for. So maybe you should go back to shelves and check–”
Customer: “F**K THAT! IT’S NOT THERE, OKAY?! YOU NEED TO F**KING GET ME WHAT I ASK FOR!”
Me: “That’s it. Get out of my store.”
Customer: “What? NO!”
Me: “Sir, get out, or I have to take you out.”
Customer: “Then do it!”
(I go around the counter and approach the customer. I yank him by his collar & drag him to the door.)
Me: “Now, then… you wanna apologize and maybe come back in?”
Customer: “No! I just want my hammer! God, what is this madness?!”
Me: *puts the customer down*
Customer: *confused* “What is it?”
(I turn back to the cashier, who nods in approval. I then turn back to face the customer.)
Me: “Madness? THIS! IS! SPARTAAAAAAAAA!” *kicks customer out of store and slams door*
Factual Innuendos
HARDWARE STORE | RIGHT | OCTOBER 8, 2009
(I’m working as a cashier at a hardware store. A customer comes to my line wearing a floor-length black trench coat, which he is clutching around himself rather suspiciously.)
Me: “Hello, sir, did you find everything alright today?”
Customer: “Would you like to see my bird?” *suggestively nods down toward his jacket*
Me: “Umm, excuse me?”
Customer: “You know, my bird…
(He opens one side of his trench coat, only to show that he indeed has a large green parrot hidden in his jacket.)
Me: *speechless*
Customer: “What, is green not your color? No worries!”
(The customer opens the other side of his trench coat and reveals another large parrot–this one red.)
Symphony In Underage Minor
EDITORS' CHOICE, MUSIC, MUSIC STORE, ONE-LINER, PARENTS/GUARDIANS | RIGHT | JULY 10, 2009
(I work at a music store which also offers private lessons. There’s a student practicing on a piano when another customer comes in.)
Me: “Welcome to [Music Store]. How may I help you today?”
Customer: “I’d like to buy a piano for my son. He’s starting lessons next week.”
Me: “Digital, upright, or grand?”
Customer: “I just want a piano!”
Me: “Certainly. This is the Roland RD-700GX, which–”
Customer: “Is that girl for sale with that piano?” *points to the girl*
Me: “Uh, no, ma’am. That is a student. She’s just practicing.”
Customer: “Well, I want that girl to teach my son! How much does she cost?”
Me: “Ma’am, she is NOT for sale.”
Customer: “She’s not? But she’s sitting right there! This is false advertisement!”
Me: “We sell pianos, ma’am. Not children.”
Customer: “But it’ll be so romantic to have that playing in the background during meals!”
Me: “Ma’am. For the last time, she is not for sale. Please stop.”
Customer: *walks over to girl* “Hello!”
Girl: “Uh… hi?”
Customer: “How much do you cost?”
Girl: *without missing a beat* “Lady, you must be really desperate if you’re looking for a hooker in a music store!”
Pinheaded, Part 2
BAD BEHAVIOR, EDITORS' CHOICE, GOLF COURSE, HEALTH & BODY, USA | RIGHT | APRIL 28, 2009
(I’m a greenskeeper on a golf course and am doing some work on a green, moving the hole. I pull the pin (flag) out, which is the universal symbol for “the green is closed; don’t shoot.” As I’m doing my work, this happens…)
Member: “Fore on the green! Fore on the green!”
(I look up to see blue sky and a little white speck flying at me. I turn my back and the golf ball hits me square in my one good kidney. I drop like a bag of potatoes, and the member casually strolls up to the green.)
Member: “Are you okay?”
Me: “No, I need to get to a hospital. It hit my good kidney.”
Member: “What the h*** were you doing on the green? You’re not supp–”
Me: “Did you just hear me? I need an ambulance!”
Member: “Don’t interrupt me, you little a**-hole! Now move so I can putt!”
(I grab my radio and get my superintendent, who rushes out in his cart on the phone with 911. After he hangs up, he turns to the member.)
Superintendent: “Didn’t you see the pin was down?! You could have killed him!
Member: “He shouldn’t be on the green during play! It’s his own fault!”
(They continue arguing for a few moments until the ambulance shows up. As the EMT is getting me on a stretcher, she asks the member…)
EMT: “If the pin was down, what were you aiming for?”
Member: “Him.”
Superintendent: “You aimed… for him?”
Member: “I figured he’d be close to the hole. I mean… the pin was down! I had to aim for something!”
Superintendent: “You’re a f****** idiot!”
(I found out later that the member was kicked out of the country club, and his $50,000 initiation fee, as well as his $15,000 yearly dues, were not refunded.)
Not So Sweet Toothed
BAKERY, EDITORS' CHOICE, GROCERY STORE, JERK, USA | RIGHT | APRIL 17, 2008
(The bakery has just closed. I just clocked out, and am on my way out of the store.)
Lady: “Excuse me, could you decorate this cake for me?”
Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am. My shift is over, and the bakery is closed.”
Lady: “But I need it done for tomorrow! If you don’t do it, I’ll call your manager!”
Me: “Ma’am, what do you do for a living?”
Lady: “I’m a dentist.”
Me: “Would you like to look at my teeth after your shift ends, for free?”
Lady: “That’s different. My job is hard. Anyone could do your job.”
Me: “Then you won’t mind taking that cake home and decorating it yourself.”
Cutty Out The Attitude
AWESOME, EDITORS' CHOICE, NEW ZEALAND, PARENTS/GUARDIANS, SCHOOL, WORDPLAY | LEARNING RIGHT | NOVEMBER 23, 2009
(I am working in a kindergarten where over half of the kids are Maori. The Maori word for scissors is ‘kutikuti,’ which is pronounced ‘cutty cutty’.)
Me: *to a child* “Can you pass me the kutikuti please?”
Mother: “What did you say to my child?”
Me: “I asked her to pass me the scissors.”
Mother: “Don’t talk baby to my child. She’s smart enough to use adult words.”
Me: “I wasn’t. I was using the Maori name for scissors.”
Mother: “No, you said cutty cutty. That’s not Maori. I’m Maori, and I think I know Maori when I hear it.”
(The child interrupts. She grabs her mom by the hand and drags her off to a poster on the wall which has a few art objects and their Maori names under them.)
Child: “Mom, why do you always have to pick fights with people? I’m very disappointed in you!”
(When her mother left I gave the kid the biggest sticker I could find to put on her good behaviour chart.)
This story is part of the Children-Behaving-Better-Than-Their-Parents roundup! This is the last story in the roundup, but we have plenty of others you might enjoy!
14 Times Aquarium Customers Made You Wish You Were Out At Sea
Read the next Children-Behaving-Better-Than-Their-Parents roundup story!
Read the Children-Behaving-Better-Than-Their-Parents roundup!
Suited To The Role
AWESOME, BIGOTRY, BOSSES & OWNERS, CALIFORNIA, CLOTHING STORE, EDITORS' CHOICE, INSPIRATIONAL, SAN FRANCISCO, USA | RIGHT | FEBRUARY 18, 2013
(I work the floor at an independently-owned menswear store. The owner, my boss, spends a lot of time at the shop, and tries to keep prices as low as possible to help our city’s large homeless population get good job interview clothes. A clearly homeless man is wandering around the store. The other patrons are giving him looks.)
Customer: “Excuse me, sir?”
Me: “Yes, ma’am?”
Customer: “I think you may want to call security. That… bum over there, he keeps feeling the suits and muttering to himself. I’m just sure he’s planning to steal one.”
Me: “Well, ma’am, I think that’s quite unlikely.”
Customer: “Oh, come on, you know how they are! I mean, I’d keep an eye on him even if he wasn’t homeless!”
(The homeless man in question happens to be Hispanic.)
Me: “We don’t discriminate here, ma’am.”
Customer: “Well, I’m sure the owner would want to hear about this!”
(I give in and call him over. The customer explains her concerns. As a black man, my boss isn’t happy with her racism, but agrees to talk to the homeless man.)
Owner: “Excuse me, sir, are you finding what you need?”
Homeless Man: “Well, not really. I’m hoping for something versatile in a dark or navy wool, but most of the options in my size are cut American style instead of European, which fits me a little better. Not to mention they’re all pinstriped, which I really don’t have the build for, you know?”
Owner: “I… yes, I understand. I think we may have some options over here, if you’ll follow me. How did you know all that?”
Homeless Man: “Back before I lost my job, I used to be really into this stuff. I’m not looking for anything fancy, just something I can use to look good for a job interview later today.”
(My boss helps him find something he likes, and comes to the counter with him. The suit is priced at $87.)
Homeless Man: *digging in his pockets* “Hang on, I think I’ve got enough.”
Owner: *to me* “Take my card. I’m buying it for him.” *to the homeless man* “Here. The suit’s yours, on one condition. After your interview today, you come back and apply for a job here, too. Got it?”
Homeless Man: “I… oh, my God, thank you. Thank you so much.”
(Two years later, that formerly-homeless man is my manager, and has a little girl with his new wife — the owner’s sister.)
I Tremble For Our Children
EDITORS' CHOICE, SCHOOL | RIGHT | MARCH 18, 2008
(A teacher calls me to her classroom. She is trying to project an image on a screen behind a student for a TV camera shot with the projector at eye level in front of the student.)
Teacher: “There is a shadow behind the student now. How can I get rid of that?”
Me: “You can’t. He is blocking the light from the projector from getting to the screen. You could put the projector behind the student, but the image would be smaller on the screen.”
Teacher: “Then what can we do?”
(I get the idea of holding a piece of paper over part of the lens of the projector to create a square area where the student stands where no light would shine. This gives the shadow a bit neater of a shape rather than a human shape.)
Me: “Here, hold this paper over the left side of the lens where the student is standing.”
(The teacher puts a piece of paper RIGHT IN FRONT of the students face.)
Me: “No, right by the lens so a square unlit area will be where the student is standing.”
(The teacher moves the piece of paper and puts it directly BEHIND the students head.)
Me: “No, here…”
(I put the piece of paper in front of the projector lens, leaving a nice square dark area on the screen where the student would stand.)
Teacher: “Well now there is a square there! There is no image directly behind the student, just around the student!”
Me: “Yeah, I know. There is nothing you can do about that, though. It’s the physics of light.”
Teacher: “What if I ask your boss? Think he could do it?”
How To Show-Up A Show-Off
AWESOME, BAD BEHAVIOR, COFFEE SHOP, EDITORS' CHOICE | RIGHT | FEBRUARY 24, 2012
(Note: I’m a male customer at a coffee shop. I’m standing in line behind an obnoxious man and a beautiful blonde woman he’s unsuccessfully trying to chat up. The server is a young woman who appears to be new at her job.)
Man: “Excuse me! I ordered a non-fat, non-sugar, orange mocha chip frappuccino! This isn’t non-fat, and there’s no whip cream on it.”
Barista: “I’m so sorry, sir. I’ll remake it immediately.”
Man: *to blonde woman* “What is up with these guys!? They screw everything up.”
Barista: “Here’s your drink, sir. I hope this one is up to standard.”
Man: “What are you, f****** r*****ed?! This is a plain mocha frappuccino! I wanted an orange chip mocha frappuccino! Get it f****** right!”
(The barista remakes his drink again, but is clearly on the verge of tears.)
Man: “Oh, my God, you people need to learn to speak English! I said non-fat. Don’t tell me it is non-fat, because I can taste—”
(At this point, the blonde woman decides she’s had enough of the man and interrupts him.)
Blonde Woman: *in a strong Irish accent* “WILL YOU STOP BEING A JERK FOR FIVE F***ING MINUTES?! The girl has made the d*** coffee perfectly this time — I watched her! And, even if she hasn’t, she’s young and clearly new at her job. It’s a f***ing coffee! Cut her some slack!”
Man: “Excuse me, but I want what I asked for! I don’t see why that’s so hard!”
Blonde Woman: “She probably looked at you, assumed you were a man, and was therefore completely confused by your non-fat, non-sugar, orange mocha chip frappuccino order. Real men drink real coffee, and they don’t bully teenage girls until they cry. Now, can you please stop being an almighty dickhead, and just f*** off?!”
(Everyone in the coffee shop clapped, and the man left, embarrassed. I paid for the blonde woman’s coffee, and found out she is from the same part of Ireland as me. One thing led to another, and I asked her to marry me this Christmas. She said yes!)
Inter-Screwed
EDITORS' CHOICE, JOB SEEKERS, OFFICE | RIGHT | NOVEMBER 30, 2010
(It’s early morning. I need to organise my notes, so I sit down in the Reception area. The suited guy next to me is looking very nervous.)
Customer: “You’re a bit of a porker, eh?”
Me: “Excuse me?”
Customer: “You’re really chubby. I mean, they told me they were considering someone else for the position as well. But if you’re all I’ve got to compete with, I’ve got it already!”
(I realise that his pre-interview technique is from some old self-help book about psyching out the competition.)
Customer: “And I was so nervous too! Guess you don’t have much of a chance, huh?”
(I consult my notes.)
Me: “Mr. Becker?”
Customer: “Yeah, that’s me! How’d you know that? You’re here for the job too, right?”
Me: “No, Mr. Becker. I’m Gary Robbins, a technical specialist from Human Resources. I’m here to conduct your interview.”
Grannies: Gotta Love ‘Em
EDITORS' CHOICE, GRANDPARENTS, GROCERY STORE, PARENTS/GUARDIANS | RIGHT | SEPTEMBER 3, 2008
(A new employee informs me that she spotted a little boy sneaking some candy in his pants. I confront the boy and an older woman about it.)
Me: “Excuse me, ma’am. Hey, kiddo, what’s in your pocket?”
Boy: “Nothing!”
Granny: “Oh, h***, again?! Boy, if you don’t put that d***ed candy back, that lady’s gonna call the police on you! And I ain’t gonna stop her none.”
(The boy, crying, hands me two candy bars and a handful of suckers. I thank the lady, and get back to work. A few minutes later, the boy’s mother comes up to me.)
Mama: “Is that the b****?”
Me: “Excuse me?”
Mama: “Ain’t talking to you.”
Boy: “Yes, mama.”
Mama: “Girl, you being rude to my son?”
Me: “No, ma’am.”
Mama: “So why you take away his candy?”
Me: “Because it wasn’t paid for.”
Mama: “Says who? I got him that candy!”
Me: “Ma’am, it’s at least 100 degrees outside, and your boy had unmelted chocolate in his pocket. He didn’t bring that in with him. Besides, he was seen taking the candy off the shelf.”
Mama: “What? Who said that?” *turns to the other cashiers* “Which one of you a**holes told on my boy?”
Me: “Excuse me, but that’s not important.”
Mama: “What’s your point, then?!”
Me: “The point is, your boy was caught stealing.”
Mama: “Forget about the d***ed candy, you nosy b****! Ain’t none of your business!”
Me: “Ma’am, your son was spotted shoplifting, which is a crime. You’re lucky I don’t report him.”
Mama: “You stupid b****! I don’t give a flying f*** about the candy!”
(She raises her hands as if to hit me.)
Me: *to Coworker* “Call the manager; he should be in by now.”
(Just then, Granny appears out of nowhere and smacks her daughter with her handbag.)
Granny: “WHAT THE H*** ARE YOU DOING, GIRL?” *continues to smack and berate her daughter* “Upsetting people like that! No common sense! S***! YOU KNOW BETTER THAN THAT!”
Mama: “But, Ma–”
Granny: “SHUT YOUR MOUTH GIRL! GET IN THE D***ED CAR!” *turns to me* “I’m so sorry about that. She’s crazy, I swear to God. She’ll never come back in here; I promise.”
Me: “…”
Granny: *to Mama* “CAN’T TAKE YOUR CRAZY A** NOWHERE! S***!”
(She walked out like nothing happened, and true to her word, I’ve not seen that lady since.)
How To Make Them As Silent As A Mouse
CALL CENTER, EDITORS' CHOICE, PENNSYLVANIA, TECH SUPPORT, USA | RIGHT | MARCH 27, 2011
(I work engineering support late in the evening.)
Me: “Pennsylvania Support Center. How may I help you?”
Caller: “The cleaning crew just came through my office, and now my mouse doesn’t work. The cursor just jumps all over the screen randomly when I move it. They broke my mouse. I need a new one.”
Me: “You have a SPARCstation with an optical mouse, correct?”
Caller: “Yes, with the cool glass mouse-pad.”
(Old-school optical mice used to require special reflective mouse-pads with grids etched into their surfaces. To increase tracking resolution, the vertical and horizontal grids had slightly different spacing.)
Me: “Did the cleaning crew wipe down your desk?”
Caller: “Yes.”
Me: “Did they move your mouse-pad?”
Caller: “What does that have to do with anything?”
Me: “Did your mouse-pad get rotated? Is the long edge of the mouse-pad now parallel to the edge of your desk?”
Caller: “I really don’t see why that’s relevant. I just want a new mouse!”
Me: “The orientation of the mouse-pad matters. The–”
(The caller cuts me off and starts to yell. I realize that I can actually hear his voice coming from down the hall.)
Caller: “Listen! Just open a ticket and have someone bring me a new mouse. I don’t have time for this. I design chips, so I know what I’m talking about. I probably designed the chip in the phone you’re stuck answering all day!”
(I take off my headset, walk down the hall, and walk into his office and up to his desk.)
Caller: “…so don’t try to bulls*** me with– Oh. Hold on. Someone is in my office.”
(I reach down and rotate his mouse-pad 90 degrees. I move the mouse, and the cursor happily moves around the screen as expected. I walk out of his office, back down the hall, sit down at my desk, and put my headset back on.)
Caller: *silence*
Me: “Thank you for calling Pennsylvania Support Center. I trust I have resolved your case.”
Caller: *silence*
Me: “You will be receiving your ticket number via email. Thank you.”
Pointless Paranoia, Meet Pistol Packin’
MOVIES & TV | RIGHT | JUNE 1, 2009
(A young man asks for a ticket for an R-rated movie and hands me his ID. I’m about to sell him the ticket when the lady behind him speaks up.)
Lady: “Wait! That picture in the ID doesn’t look like him at all!”
(I look at the ID. It appears he’s been sick since the photo was taken, but it’s clearly the same guy.)
Me: “Well, ma’am, I’m fairly certain that this is the correct ID. Now, if you’d just step up–”
Lady: “No! You can’t sell to someone with a fake ID. He could be a terrorist, for God’s sake! You should call the police!”
Me: “Ma’am, that is definitely not necessary. I am responsible for checking identification, and I–”
Lady: “I need to talk to your manager!”
(I begin to respond, but the guy politely waves me off and turns to the woman.)
Man: “Miss, I have another photo ID here, with a more recent picture. Do you think this matches?”
(He pulls a card out of his wallet and hands it to her. She goes completely white.)
Lady: “Well… um… yes, that’s, uh, fine!”
(She squirms for a moment, then exclaims, “I’ll be right back!” She drops the card and leaves the theater in a hurry. I give the guy his ticket.)
Friends In Unusual Places
CALL CENTER | RIGHT | SEPTEMBER 26, 2011
Me: “How can I help you today?”
Customer: “I’m looking for a parcel.”
Me: “May I have your tracking number, please?”
Customer: “My what?”
Me: “Your tracking number. All of our parcels have tracking numbers which the sender can give you if you do not have it.”
Customer: “Why don’t you have it?”
Me: “Because I didn’t send you the parcel.”
Customer: “So, who did then?”
Me: “Sir, do you not know who sent you the item?”
Customer: “No, but my neighbor just had something delivered and I want one too. So send me something now!”
(The caller then muffles the phone and I can hear what sounds like sobs.)
Me: “Sir, are you okay?”
Customer: “I’m so lonely and I just wanted to get a present!” *more sobbing*
Customer: “I’m so lonely!”
Me: *speechless*
Customer: “Never mind, I’ll go now…”
Me: “Sir…wait. We do have a parcel for you. I just need to confirm your address to send it to you. It will be there this afternoon!”
(After he gives me his address, I have a quick whip around the call center and we get a card signed by the team, put in a few chocolate bars with other happy bits and pieces, and send it to him. He calls the next day and thanks us all. Now, he rings once a week on average, and we are all happy to chat with him.)
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