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Epic transmission repair ad
Normally I get calls from people who want to know where their package is, but occasionally I receive a call that wants me to send a driver to pick up a parcel somewhere.
Now in order to book this pickup the caller can either put this on a business account or on a credit card. Usually this step goes smoothly, but in this story, things obviously did not go quite so well.
Me: Thank you for calling [courier service], my name is Courier Customer Supporter, how can I help you?
Guy: Yeah I need to ship something, send a driver.
Me: Ok, is this going on a credit card or an account?
Guy: The company said they would pay for it
Me: Ok, and did they give you their account number?
Me: Perhaps it is on the packaging label?
(Note: The label is what you stick on your package and tells whoever is handling it, where it came from and where it is going to. Pretty standard right? Well here's where it gets weird)
Me: No, I'm not asking you to rip off the label sir, I'm just asking you to take a look at it and tell me if there is an account number there.
Guy: *getting agitated* But I taped it on already, if I knew I had to look for an account thingy I wouldn't have taped it on before calling, now you want me to rip it off! I don't want to rip it off and tape it on again!
Me: Sir, I'm not asking you to rip it off, I just want you to read what is on the label
(I really wanted to ask him in what way did he tape the label on that he COULD NOT read it without ripping it off. The point of the label is to give information to others. If they can't READ the label, let alone the person who stuck it on, how is ANYBODY going to know where the package should be going to?)
Guy: BUT THAT MEANS I HAVE TO RIP IT OFF! JUST HOLD ON!
*shuffling in background*
Guy: it doesn't say anything about account here. There's tracking number, then some invoice shit, *keeps rambling on about other numbers*
Me: Is there any way you can ask the company about the account number?"
Me: I'm afraid I cannot proceed without an account number.
Guy: FINE! I'll just drop off the package at one of the centers then. Where is the nearest one?
Me: What city are you in?
Me: Okay, the nearest center is [city]. Is there anything else I can help you with?
Guy: No, you've been completely unhelpful!!
Me: ...Thank you for calling, goodbye now!
The kicker? When he gets to the center to drop off the box, they're going to ask him the EXACT SAME QUESTION. "What's the account number?"
At least in person they can take the box from him and read the label themselves.
--Courier Customer Supporter
I have a secret to share with you. I hate my co-worker, or one of the people I supervise, who I’m going to call Whiny Butt. She totally undermines my directions, fails to do even the simplest of tasks I give her, spends her time chatting it up at the cash register instead of doing her job, sneaks around to stay late to get literally two minutes of overtime and finds ways to blame me (or other employees) for her shortcomings to my manager, which always means I get in trouble for her crap.
In the five years I have worked here I have only ever been written up twice, both times within this year and, of course, both times with her squarely centered in the reasons why. I will share one, the other being a little personal in nature.
I had a button on the register I set up, a very secret button, where I could give our employees discounts on our merchandise (canned soda, chips etc,) which we technically are supposed to pay for (except for management, because they’re perfect and above the rules they make, but that’s a whole other story). At the beginning of her time here Whiny Butt and I got along just fine, and I let her in on my little secret button because she really liked a few of our bottled beverages. I figured I’d rather her discount herself on them than just steal them.
Uh oh, within a week EVERY cashier and half of the student body knew about this button and instead of two or three dollars being knocked off prices, we were losing $50 to $100 in straight up cash sales. This is very noticeable to Lord Helmet, our fearless leader (general manager) who approached me about it and put me through the wringer.
I got a big fat write up, and honestly had no one to blame but myself, well maybe Whiny Butt a little, but it was my stupid ass who should have known better. I think I’ll leave it at that for now but this is part one of at least three of the whiny butt saga, continued the next time I actually have a chance to sit down.
p.s. After reading this over I just want to include that throughout all of this I have been a very understanding and as-professional-as-I-get supervisor (or as I describe myself "the one who constantly gets sh*t on, unable to hang with the peons, but also doesn't get management perks," in some sort of sh*t on limbo.)
Lil’ Deaf Dude knows you can’t understand him, and he tries so hard to make himself clear. I’ve seen him stand for several minutes trying to let us know what kind of cigarettes he wants. And when you finally DO get it, he seems so proud of you and of himself. So, I think he’s the sweetest thing.
Today, he was in the store and a little boy wanted to wave at him and say ‘Hi’. But Lil’ Deaf Dude couldn’t hear him, of course, and had his back to the boy.
The kid was getting more and more upset that Lil’ Deaf Dude wasn’t turning around, so I said, "I’m sorry, buddy, but he can’t hear you. He’s deaf."
As I went over to get Lil’ Deaf Dude to turn around for the little boy, I heard his mother explain that being deaf was that his "ears were broken" and "didn’t work".
The little boy, who was maybe 4, looked SO UPSET that Lil’ Deaf Dude had broken ears, that he ran up and gave him a hug and said he hoped he got his ears fixed.
When Lil’ Deaf Dude’s grandson came to pick him up not long after, I told him what had happened so he could tell his grandpa. It was cute.
--Terah The Gas Slave