I was traveling to visit family with a van full of kids and I had my in-laws with me. We were forced to stop at a gas station because my father-in-law needed a bathroom break and has a neurological disorder that makes it rough if we didn’t stop. I say forced, because as we pulled into the gas station, I saw there were three tour buses there, so I would have preferred to keep going. The tour buses were coming back from Yellowstone and full of Asian tourists, not an unusual occurrence that time of year.
Anyway, I went to get in line for the restroom, which was severely backed up. I was waiting outside the door because it was so crowded and after a couple minutes, went to open it a bit to see if there was room for me yet. There was a gas station employee inside, changing the trash who screamed at me that, “It’s too full, stay out!”
Startled, I closed the door again and waited. When she came out, I started to say something about how I was just checking on the line, but she interrupted with, “Sorry about that. I figured it was one of those. They can’t understand the language, they shouldn’t be here!” She then stormed off.
I was shocked and very upset. There were a lot of the tourists around me, and I am sure that some of them understood what she had said. I reported her to the manager. No idea if anything came of it.
I had been brushing up on my SciFi reading and decided to seek out maybe a compilation book from the mind of Jules Verne. I ask one of the clerks where I might find Jules Vern and was told, without missing a beat, “Who’s she? What does she write?”. I was flabbergasted. I thought you had to, like, you know, know something about literature to work there, or something. I didn’t see it coming.
Recently, I had a very bad kidney infection that left me severely dehydrated and unable to eat due to intense vomiting and dry heaving. After visiting an urgent care clinic I was starting my recovery and found my appetite returning. Unfortunately, I had no pedialyte or any other electrolyte supplementing beverage to drink and I was short on any kind of bland groceries that had substance to them; worse yet I was unable to drive as I began to deal with the post-infection muscle stiffness and pain (whilst still running a still fluctuating temperature of 101 to102.9). I tried to find a place I could order and have groceries delivered but I was out of range of the local stores. Luckily I was not out of range of a popular brand name delivery sandwich shop that had a sports drink. I placed my order around 8:30pm (the store closing at 10pm) and paid via their website. My phone number was provided as well as instructions for the driver that there was no gate code only gate card access; I suppose I overestimated the idea that drivers call if they have any problems. Thirty minutes go by and I am wondering if I will recieve my food at all but decide to wait a little longer because pehaps they wanted the driver to deliver all the last orders in one trip. Another fifteen minutes go by and I am dialing the store when I hear someone knocking at my door. I stagger up to the door and there is my delivery. He asks id I have a pen to sign my receipt and I look helplessly down at myself in my pajama adorned glory, literally swaying in place, glancing back towards my desk across the front room. He says that it’s fine and that I don’t have to sign after I respond with a weak “no” and hands me my bag and I stare blankly at his hands and realize he is missing a crucial item: my drink. Desperately hoping he simply left it in his vehicle I mention it; he swears loudly as he checks his copy of the reciept. Rather sheepishly he tries to explain why it took so long and mentions how he was at the wrong gate (my complex has three; two of which are clearly not entrances) and I am flabbergasted. Not only did he not have my complete order but he sat for “a very long time” (his words, not mine) at a chained and padlocked gate that has a black and gold CLOSED sign on the outside that doesn’t have a gate card scanner nor is located anywhere near the well lit front office entry with two flagpoles and a lighted sign decreeing the apartment complex name (which for reference is just 20 feet further up the curved street so it is VERY easily visible) /and he didn’t think it was odd or thought to call me after waiting “a long time.”/ At this point I’m leaning against my doorjamb and quietly state that I am very ill and I will be going back inside to lay down until he is able to bring me my drink. He was back in about ten to fifteen minutes, handed me my drink and walked off without a word of apology and it wasn’t because I had stiffed him for a tip (the online payment prior to delivery has a tip inclusion option and I always tip 20% and this shows on the reciept). I could have passed it off as a stressed high schooler or a tired young college student with poor manners; however, the delivery driver was at least in his forties. At this point, it is past the closing time for the store and had I been less ill I would have called and complained that night instead I left a displeased review on the local branch’s website. I was reminded of a crucial thing: NEVER underestimate a lack of forethought or problem-solving skills when dealing with people. Try to make things as idiot proof as possible.
Coworker: *huffs* “I can’t get manager to do [task]!”
Me: “Why, what did he say?”
Coworker: “What do you mean?”
Me: “When you asked him.”
Coworker: “I didn’t ask him.”
I work at the largest theme park in Canada which is Snoopy/Canadian themed. I get an email from the park asking all employees to enter for a draw for a chance to win a cruise with a popular cruise boat.
I am just about to sign up when I finish reading all the instructions.
I laugh and call up another coworker who works for the same park.
Me: Did you get the email about the cruise draw?
Coworker: Yes, what about it?
Me: It’s only for American Citizens….we can’t even enter!
I guess the theme park company forgot they had a whole park full of Canadian citizens when they made up the draw.