Bad Retail Slaves: Too High To Find You

 

Carolanne ugh reallyFrom JohnnyHighGround , AskReddit

This was the only time I ever attempted a cross-country flight and return in the same day. I arrive at O'Hare at some ungodly early hour, only to discover my flight is departing from the C terminal. To get to C you have to go through this long, long, long underground tunnel...which is lit by eerie colored lights projected through glass block on the walls, and neon lights sort of strobing in the ceiling in different colors. And Rhapsody in Blue plays in this sort of eerie new-agey arrangement the whole time. At 4:00ish in the morning, that is some fucked up shit, lemme tell you.

But fine, I get my flight, I fly to San Francisco, I have my meeting, I come home. It is now probably 2:00am; I have been awake close to 24 hours. I walk back through Rhapsody in Blue to my car... which won't start.

Fuck.

Fortunately, I have AAA. So I trudge down to the parking garage office and call them. They ask me where I am. I say I'm at O'Hare airport.

AAA Agent: "What's the address there?"

Me: "...Seriously? It's O'Hare Airport. It's the busiest airport in the world."

AAA Agent: "I'm going to need an address."

I turn to the parking attendants. "What's the address here?"

Parking Attendant: "...It's the airport."

"Right." I tell AAA, "It's the airport. Maybe try 1 O'Hare Drive?"

AAA Agent: "...OK, we'll have a tow truck out to meet you in 10 minutes. Where are you?"

Me: "Parking Garage 2."

AAA Agent: "Can you be more specific?"

Me: "Right, sorry, I'm on the fifth level."

AAA Agent: "Can you be more specific?"

Me: "Um...my car is in aisle 20?"

Bad retail slavesAAA Agent: "Can you be more specific?"

Me: "Ah. Buh. Uh?"

AAA Agent: "We need to be able to tell our driver where to go."

Me: "...Fine. I'm in the second spot from the south end of aisle 20, on the west side of the aisle."

This is what she said next, and I swear this is true: "Can you be more specific?"

Me: "...No. No, I really can't."

It was at this time that, and I swear this is also true, I started running through the exercises I learned in high school when I was trying to learn how to lucid dream, to determine whether you're dreaming or not: looking at my hands, checking the clock repeatedly, the whole deal.

Finally: "OK, the tow truck should be there in about 15 minutes!" And she hangs up.

Great. So I chill with the parking attendants, who are practically in hysterics at this point, for about 10 minutes, then head out into the sleet to wait by my car. Soon, I see a tow truck pulling into the parking garage.

And he comes up to level 5, immediately heads back down, turns around, and leaves.

It is probably at least 3:00 in the morning at this point. I walk back to the office (this was before cell phones were in wide use) and call AAA again.

Me: "Yeah, I just called a little bit ago for a tow, and I just saw what I'm pretty sure was your driver come by and immediately leave."

Carolanne facepalm"I'm sorry, sir. He radioed in and said he wasn't positive exactly where you were." I am pretty sure my head was on fire at this point. "Can you verify your location?"

Me: "O'Hare Airport. Parking garage 2. Level 5. Aisle 20. Second from the end on the southwest end of the aisle."

AAA Agent: "OK, thanks, we'll send him back."

I trudge back to my car. In moments the tow truck returns. And, I shit you not, he once again drives up to level 5, immediately heads back down, turns around, and leaves.

I run back to the office. The attendants are no longer laughing; their faces wear expressions ranging from extreme pity to horror. I grab a phone and call AAA again. "WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?"

AAA Agent: "Excuse me?"

Me: "WHAT. THE. FUCK. IS. GOING. ON. This is the third time I've called you--"

AAA Agent: "Sir--"

Me: "And I am stranded at the airport--"

AAA Agent: "Sir--"

Me: "And your FUCKING tow FUCKING truck FUCKING driver keeps driving past me and leaving!"

AAA Agent: "Sir! I'm sorry, but can you tell me where you are?"

Me: "O'Hare Airport, on level 5 of parking garage 2."

AAA Agent: "...Can you be more specific?"

Me: "WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?"

AAA Agent: "Sir, if you're going to keep using that language--"

Me: "Sorry, sorry. I'm tired, it's late. I'm in aisle 20, near the south end. Please don't ask me to be more specific."

AAA Agent: "OK, I'll make sure the driver knows where you are."

Carolanne StrangleMe: "I... fine."

So, yes, I went back out to my car. And the driver came back. And this time I turned on my car lights and jumped up and down in front of them, waving my arms. And he stopped, thank jeebus, he stopped. And got out of his truck... Reeking of pot. "Sorry, dude. They weren't real specific about where you were."

He pulled my car up on the lift, failing to secure the straps around the tires so that I had to utter a prayer every time we went over railroad tracks, but he got me and my car home.

I canceled my AAA membership the next day.

And the kicker? My car wouldn't start because the exterior of the spark-box (or whatever) was dirty. A mechanical friend came by and diagnosed the issue. He wiped it down with an old sock. It started instantly from then until the day I traded it to Carmax.

--JohnnyHighGround

 


Nasty Ass Thieves: Pharmacy Cashier Tries To Cheat Change

 

RHU Characters 256From PennyoftheNerds, TalesFromRetail

I use a local, family owned pharmacy that is also a small store. So small that they know me by name from my years of patronizing the place and always ask me about things going on in my life and what not, and I ask them about theirs. It's like Cheers up in there.

When their son left for college, they brought in a lady to ring out prescriptions who is honestly ruder than any customer I've ever encountered, and doesn't pay a lick of attention to what's she's doing. On more than one occasion I've been handed the wrong medication, because she only paid attention to the first name and not the last name. Then, she tried to tell me I gave her the wrong name, because obviously I don't know my own name.

She flat out told me she thought I was spelling my own last name wrong when she couldn't find my prescription one time. Also, while waiting for a prescription, a girl brought MY prescription back for the same reason - she had the same first name, but a different last name but hadn't noticed it was the wrong prescription until after she had left the pharmacy. Then the lady tried to hand me the prescription that we had no way of knowing if the other customer had opened, touched or otherwise before realizing it wasn't hers.

I hadn't reported her because I not only wasn't sure if she was a relative, but I didn't know her life or why she was working there. Maybe she had never had a job and they were trying to help her out because she had hit hard times. I try to give everyone the benefit of the doubt.

On this particular day, I had just ran into the bank next door and then directly into the pharmacy. I like to pay in cash there, since they are family owned and credit card fees suck. Also, my prescriptions are usually under $5, but never over $20, and seeing as this was a new prescription, I pulled out $20, just in case. She hands me my prescription, I double check that it's mine, hand her my $20 on a $1.20 bill...and get change back for a five. The following ensues.

Me: "I'm sorry, but this change is incorrect. I gave you a $20."

Her: "No, you didn't. You gave me a $5.

Me: "I'm sorry, but that's not possible. I don't carry cash on me, and just came from the bank next door not five minutes ago. I got $20 out and it's all the cash I had."

Her: "I don't even have a $20 in my drawer, so you're a liar."

Carolanne 076At this point, I had just had it. Many a times I had wanted to take out my stun gun and shock some common sense into her. I only continued to go to the pharmacy because she mostly wasn't there and I had gotten to know the family well over the years, but all the anger from every time I've had to deal with her finally reached the surface. I was polite and firm, but also done with her.

Me: "No, I'm not, and you're not going to talk to me that way. I have been given the wrong prescription by you multiple times. You've given someone else my prescription. You've completely forgotten to give me my change before and had to open the drawer to get it out. You don't pay attention to what you're doing, so I doubt you actually know what I gave you, and your drawer isn't even open for you to double check if there is a $20 in there. The store isn't busy, so go get the owner and have her count the drawer. I will wait. I know I gave you a $20 and I'm not leaving here without the proper change."

She stood there for a moment not saying anything, and then opened the drawer back up and gave me the $15, attitude included. The fact that she wouldn't go get the owner to recount the drawer told me everything I needed to know, because if she was so sure she had no $20s in the drawer, it would have taken all of two seconds to prove I was wrong, no drawer counting necessary.

On my way out, I stopped at the front cash and told the owner what had happened, as well as everything that had happened with this same woman previously. I also told her to give me a call if the cash was short $15 and I would gladly return it.

I did get a call, but not because the cash was short $15 - it wasn't. She called to apologize to me and tell me they had cameras over all their cash registers, and their camera showed that I had handed her a $20, and that the woman was on her last warning and they had let her go, so she was hoping I would still continue to frequent their pharmacy.

Good riddance. It's so much more peaceful there without her.

--PennyoftheNerds

 


Bad RetaiL Slaves: "That's Not How Math Works..."

 

New Freddy 059From motorcycle_farts, TalesFromRetail

This story is not mine, but was just relayed to me by a coworker earlier today. We’ll call my coworker H.

So H is in a large nationwide grocery store buying Halloween candy early. This store is having a sale on bags of candy: four large bags for $8, so long as the bags are between 18 and 18.5 ounces.

So H picks four bags and goes to the checkout. The bitchy cashier (who I know from personal experience is always having a bad day) rings the four bags up and gives her the total, but H notices that she didn’t get the sale price. The conversation goes something like this:

H: I think there was sale on this candy.

Cashier: This last bag of candy is over the weight limit.

H looks at the bag; it’s 18.18 ounces.

H: No, it’s less than 18.5 ounces.

Cashier: 18 is more than 5!

H: Um, that’s not how math works.

The Cashier still wouldn’t believe her; luckily some of the courtesy clerks backed up H’s logic and eventually she got the right price.

--motorcycle_farts

 


Restaurant Hell: Bad Retail Slaves

 

Restaurant hellFrom Beaches

This is actually two stories that happened at two different restaurants. One I'll never set foot in again since they don't care if they accidentally kill their customers, and the other I still visit from time to time since it has a happy ending.

This happened earlier this year and I did everything I thought of to get some attention to the matter at hand, but was brushed off.

My mother and I went to a restaurant that is set to the theme of Down Under, and they were having a special on their steaks. It was a center cut and was to be a bit thicker than usual, and they had a online coupon you could print and bring in. That was the only reason why we went there. Well we looked over their menu of the steak meal, and read over what was in it. Naturally it sounded delicious so I ordered it and my mother got something else.

I got the meal, and took a bite, and everything went right to hell. I was suddenly in extreme pain! So severe was my pain that I couldn't speak, and panic started to form. I suffer from vertigo so I know that if I panic too much I will collapse. So in my panic state and trying to calm myself down, I got confused and swallowed the steak instead of spitting it out. Which caused the pain to now race down my throat and I chugged my drink down so fast that I got some in my lungs.

My mom is super concerned and has her cell out asking me if she needs to call 911 as she states that she has never seen my face go so red before in my life.

After I finished my drink the pain started to lessen and I was able to speak again. I told her about the pain, how I couldn't speak, and how I had to keep myself from fainting. Neither of us could understand how a steak could cause that so we flagged down the waitress, and told her what just happened.

"Oh! Well that's because we use 17 different peppers and spices to coat our steaks with when we cook them," she replied casually.

Freddy2 001WHAT?! No where in the entire menu did it state anything what so ever about coating their meats with 17 different peppers and spices! That is a HUGE important thing! Especially since I do not like peppers and spices, and can not handle that. I'm not allergic, but I'm so damn sensitive that I always check to be sure if any sort of spice is listed so that I can ask to have it taken off.

I have been to a lot of restaurants and every single one of them has it printed on their menu some variation of, "served with seasoned style spice." This was the very first one that did not have that, and went overkill on the kinds that they do.

The waitress said she didn't like their spices either, and understood my pain. I wonder if she really did or just said that to try and save face. Then offered to get me a totally different meal, and not charge us for that steak meal. I was hungry and it was too late to bail as mom was wanting to finish her meal, so I agreed. The manager later came with the replacement meal, and stayed to make sure I could eat it. When she saw that I wasn't in crippling pain, she left and I ate in peace.

When the waitress came back with the bill, I asked her why didn't the menu mention anything about the 17 peppers and spices?

"I don't know. Every location is different and we get menus sent to us when we have new things to sell. I guess they just didn't think it was important to mention that."

We paid the bill, and left the standard tip. Later I sent a complaint email to their higher ups but never heard back from them. For a few weeks my tongue had rings like a tree on it with the center most one a spooky red. Milk was both a blessing and a curse as I am mildly allergic to it. Now I know why there's a stereotype of if you go to that country, stuff wants to kill you there.

-------------------------

BADSERVICE4After that incident I didn't want to eat out again for many months. I healed back to normal, and eventually we decided to eat at one of our favorite places.

This one is a seafood theme restaurant that has a live tank that you can pick out which rubber band clawed pincher that you want to eat. Normally when we go service is fine and the food is good, but once in a while we'll have an issue. This was one of those times where I was half in the wrong but I'm not sorry for it.

My mother and I ordered a meal that came with two sides - which was stated in the menu, and told to us by our waitress. Looking at the side menu my mother ordered a side of bake potato, and salad while I ordered a side of broccoli and fries. When our food came my plate only had the fries on it, and no salad was delivered with mom's dish.

We mentioned these to the waitress politely and she apologized and rushed back to the kitchen to correct that. Came back with mom's salad and a tiny plate with only THREE pieces of broccoli. Yes pay attention to that number. After the meal came the bill and I always check the bill first because my mother and I play a game where I look at the bill and she tries to guess the total.

Something draw my eye instantly - a charge for an extra of broccoli. That didn't look right and so I called the waitress over to explain and that's when everything went to hell.

"I had to charge you that because you ordered an extra helping of broccoli," she explained.

"No, that was a side of broccoli not an extra." I replied.

"Yes I brought you the side and you ordered extra."

"I see we have a misunderstanding. I ordered a side of broccoli and fries, my mother a baked potato and salad. When you brought us our food there was no broccoli and no salad. Do you remember us mentioning this and you said you were sorry, and then went to the kitchen?" That's when she stared at me and yes I did see you draw up your shoulders.

"I will get my manager to explain the bill to you," This was said a bit quickly and she stomped off.

Jason 016Mom asked to see the bill and saw the broccoli charge, "You know they're charging us three dollars for three pieces of broccoli." She pointed out and we instantly started laughing and joked about how expensive broccoli is and my gosh a whole plate must be the best tasting thing ever if it's a dollar per head, not including tax.

Right after we said that the manager showed up and calmly went over the bill, stating what the waitress said earlier. I told him that it was a side, she didn't originally bring it, and brought back a tiny plate with only three pieces on it.

"Oh! That is completely different then. I will have this charge taken off your bill. Sorry for the mishap."

I then quickly asked what was even the difference between the two?

"Well a side has four pieces of broccoli and an extra is a lot more. I don't know the exact number but it's way more than four." We laughed and he left to let the waitress bring over the bill.

She came back up and as she placed the bill muttered that it wasn't a side. Bitch, yes it was! I hate broccoli and that order was for my mother and you probably ate that fourth piece of broccoli because you fucked up. We left her three dollars to pay for those three pieces of broccoli.

Now, yes I know that it was a lot of fuss over three freaking pieces of stupid broccoli but damn it! It's the principle of the whole thing! We budget everything right down to taxes and tip so if something is wrong on the bill that's going to effect the final price of everything. Eating out is a privilege that I don't get to often enjoy for many reasons. So when I eventually do/can we have to be sure we can afford everything, especially the fucking tip. So when you give me attitude and act like I'm the bitch about it, then you better believe I will demand it to be fixed.

It's hard to explain tones of voice, looks and posture but she did enough to show me that she was angry that I called out her mistake.

The happy part of this story? She was later fired, as I never saw her again when we went back a few weeks later. At least that's what I'm telling myself.

--Beaches