The Wrong Person Got Their Jaw Wired Shut

, , , , , , | Right | May 22, 2018

(I was recently in a pretty bad car accident that left me with a broken jaw which had to be wired shut. While I can talk, I tend to avoid it since it is painful at times, and it is sometimes hard to understand me. My boss understands this, and has even gone so far as to have these big “Cannot Speak” signs made up with some details to explain my problem. For the most part, the customers have been nice and understanding about it. One day, around noon, I’m sweeping the front of the store when a smartly-dressed woman steps through the door. She walks over to me and asks where something is, and I don’t answer. Instead, I wave in the direction of the manager who comes over and asks what it is she wants, while I go back to sweeping. The woman asks and is directed to what she needs, and the manager comes back and tells me to ring her up.)

Woman: “Oh, hell no. I don’t want him ringing me up.”

Manager: “And why not? Did he do something wrong?”

Woman: “No, it’s just that he’s obviously a [disabled slur]. I don’t want this waste of human space screwing up anything.

Me: “Not [disabled slur].” *my words slur due to clenched teeth*

Woman: “See? They can’t even talk right. If I were president, I’d have all of them aborted before birth.”

Me: “Not [disabled slur].” *slurred again*

Woman: “Oh, shut up and let the adults do business.”

(I held up a finger to my manager, who I could see was VERY pissed. Walking over, I picked up a piece of paper from the copier, snagged a marker, and wrote out, “You ignorant, uneducated bigot. I can’t speak because I had a car accident, which you may have read about in the newspaper. My jaw is wired shut.” I turned the paper around so she could read it. I watched her look at it, look at me, and then look at the manager. You could almost hear the gears working in her mind as she started to blush, and refused to look at me the entire time. Shortly after she left, one of the regulars who overheard the conversation noted that it was everything he could do not to smack her in the head, in the hopes it might knock some sense into her.)

This Behavior Is Foreign To Me

, , , , | Right | May 22, 2018

(We have a notoriously nasty client who calls about once or twice a week, known as “Mr. F****** Foreigners Guy.” He basically calls to yell and scream at the person he gets through to, stating that he will not talk to f****** foreigners who take Norwegian people’s jobs and ruin Norway. The kicker is, however, that almost every single person he has talked to at our call center is a native Norwegian with a very common Norwegian name. We also know what his problem is, and what is causing it, but none of us have been able to get through to him as he just yells and screams. This day, I am training a new hire. He is originally from Iraq, and he has a very foreign-sounding name. However, he grew up in Sweden and he speaks Swedish. Note that Swedish and Norwegian are similar languages, and we understand each other well, but it is still VERY clear that it is not the same language. I’m listening to the new hire’s calls when we get Mr. F****** Foreigners Guy on the phone.)

New Hire: *in Swedish* “Welcome to [Company]! My name is [New Hire]. How can I help you?”

F****** Foreigners Guy: “OH. MY. GOD. I can’t f****** believe this!”

(I immediately recognize his voice and get ready to terminate the call. However:)

F****** Foreigners Guy:Finally, a true Norwegian person! With a real Norwegian name and all! You have no idea how many times I had to talk to all these f****** foreigners just to get to you!”

New Hire: *confused out of this world, still speaking Swedish* “Uh… I’m sorry to hear that, sir. What can I help you with?

(And just like that, Mr. F****** Foreigners Guy was the nicest person ever, and got his problem fixed by our new hire. We never heard from him after that, and to this day we still have no idea how a self proclaimed “Norwegian Nationalist” could not tell the difference between Norwegian and Swedish!)

The Mole Sounded Better Off On Its Own

, , , , | Right | May 22, 2018

(A customer comes up to me as I’m talking with three other managers. She is carrying a shoe box with a small blanket.)

Customer: *frantic* “I found this baby mole! Could you guys take him, please? I think his mother abandoned him!”

Pet Care Manager: “No, ma’am, I’m sorry. We can’t.”

Customer: “BUT YOU’RE [PET STORE]!”

Store Manager: “I’m sorry, but we can’t accept any animals other than from our suppliers.”

Customer: “What?! What am I supposed to do with him? The vet won’t take him, either; can you please just take him!?”

Pet Care Manager: “I could give you the number for the wildlife rescue.”

Customer: “NO! THIS IS RIDICULOUS; YOU’RE [PET STORE]! You have to take him! Can’t you just feed him to your snakes?!”

Store Manager: “I’m sorry, ma’am. We can’t, but we can give you the number for the rescue.”

Customer: “WELL, I GUESS I’LL JUST KNOCK HIM OVER THE HEAD WITH A ROCK AND KILL HIM!” *stomps off*

Your Friend Doesn’t Care About The Blood Of Jesus

, , , , | Right | May 22, 2018

(My coworker takes a call.)

Customer: “I’m calling to tell you I paid my payment.”

(He has gotten a cancel notice on his auto insurance.)

Coworker: “Our records indicate the last payment was paid on [date], and the next payment was due on [date], and it wasn’t made, so the policy is cancelled.”

Customer: “By the blood of Jesus, that payment has been made!”

Coworker: “I’m sorry, sir. The payment was not posted to your account.”

Customer: “I gave my friend money, and by the blood of Jesus, he paid my insurance.”

Coworker: *stunned silence*

Leaves Her Baby In A Flash (Drive)

, , , , , | Right | May 22, 2018

(A customer comes in with her baby in a carrier. She sets the carrier down by her feet as she approaches my cash register.)

Customer: “Where are your flash drives?”

Me: “Over in aisle six.”

Customer: “Great. Can you just watch my baby for me? He’s just right there.” *points to her feet and quickly walks away*

Me: “Um…”

(I lean over the counter so I can see the baby, and he’s there sitting in his carrier. I keep watch on him, afraid that another customer will come and pull me away from him, or not see him on the floor and kick the carrier. The customer comes back about two minutes later.)

Customer: “Thanks for watching him.”

Me: “Um… Okay.”

(A few weeks later, I leave my cash to take some baskets back to the front door, and when I return, I gasp to see a baby in a carrier on the floor, unattended.)

Me: “Um! There’s a baby over here!”

(I turned around and recognized the same woman from a few weeks before, WAY at the FARTHEST till away, checking out! She didn’t even hear me call that there was an unattended baby. When she was done checking out she just slowly walked back over to get her baby.)

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