My friend and I worked at a fast-food chain together that stayed open 24 hours. If you were unlucky enough to get an overnight, you start at 11 PM and finish at 8 AM. If you are unlucky enough to get the overnights, you’re almost guaranteed to be unlucky enough to work one before your vacation. Meaning you technically work eight hours on your first day of the vacation.

My friend had requested their holiday in advance and stated that, on the request, they had a plane flight that very day, so they could not do an overnight shift the night before. The scheduling manager didn’t care, so they were scheduled on an overnight anyway.

My friend was angry, asked them again to change it, and they refused. My friend then clarified their holiday began ON THAT DAY, to which the manager said yes.

My friend then showed up for his overnight, completed one hour, and clocked off at exactly midnight. When asked why they were “walking off their shift,” he informed the manager that today was officially his holiday, so he didn’t have to work, left the store, and went on vacation as planned.

Surprisingly, they didn’t argue with him on it, though they weren’t pleased! They tried to look at issuing a warning, but had to settle with a stern “please tell us next time and we’ll sort out the problem” when he got back.

I am pleased to say they are a little more cautious about giving people an overnight before their holiday time, though…

I’m working at a Natural History Museum. A visitor points to a diorama of some cavemen and wants to complain about the sign.

I check the sign:

Sign: “Paleolithic Cavemen society operated as nomadic hunter-gatherer bands of twenty to sixty people. These highly egalitarian, communal groups relied on shared resources and division of labor, moving seasonally to track game and gather vegetation.”

Me: “What’s the issue with the sign, sir?”

Visitor: “I don’t wanna bring my son here and have him thinking we all descended from communists! Take that sign down!”

Related:
Needs To Work On Their Socialist Skills, Part 14
Needs To Work On Their Socialist Skills, Part 13
Needs To Work On Their Socialist Skills, Part 12
Needs To Work On Their Socialist Skills, Part 11
Needs To Work On Their Socialist Skills, Part 10

A customer walks over one afternoon:

Customer: “I need to use the employee restroom.”

Me: “That’s in an employee-only area, ma’am. We have customer restrooms at the front of the store.”

Customer: “I deserve to use the employee restroom.”

Me: “Why?”

Customer: “Because I know they gotta be cleaner and I have IBS.”

That’s not the compelling argument you think it is, lady!

Me: “The customer restrooms are cleaned multiple times throughout the day.”

Customer: “Yes, I know; it was clean when I used them this morning.”

Me: “You already used them this morning?”

Customer: “Yes, that’s how I know they’re not clean. B****, I said I got IBS; are you not listening?!”

I used to work with a guy at the customer service centre, let’s call him Mike. Mike was a pretty chill dude, person-to-person: good sense of humour, and he’d worked at the company for several years. If you got him as a customer, you’d feel similarly. Very polite. Very knowledgeable. Sounded genuinely happy to help you.

Key word. Sounded.

This man was the master of using the mute button. We all knew to keep an ear out for when Mike had an annoying call because that was when the fun began.

Again, on the phone he’d sound perfectly civil. But as soon as this man hit the mute button, the vitriol would start flying. This man had the foulest mouth I’ve heard since moving away from my mother.

It was always a treat listening to Mike take a call because he could switch from:

Mike: “Oh, I’ll be more than happy to help you, madam, could I put you on hold for a moment? Thank you, I’ll be right back.”

Smash cut to:

Mike: “You dumb piece of s***. Of course I can’t f****** do that for you. F****** c***.”

And then right back to:

Mike: “Hello, madam. I’m sorry, but we wouldn’t be able to do that for you. I deeply apologize.” *Button press.* “Ya wet harpy.” Button press.* “Is there anything else I can do for you, madam?” *Button press.* “Like teach you how to turn on a f****** phone ya dumb turd-nugget!”

One of these days he’s going to slip up pressing that mute button, but until then I will enjoy his customer contempt.

My wife and I are being sappy:

Me: “You know, while I don’t really believe in soulmates, I’ve been thinking: With apologies to Asimov, any sufficiently compatible partners are indistinguishable from soulmates.”

Her: “Sweetie, that was Clarke.”

Me: “SEE! Proving my point!”