h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

I was in the bank a month or two back, and I watched a transaction between a woman and the teller. She was with a friend who was not a customer, and spent the entire transaction with her back to the teller, yakking to her friend, even when the teller handed her back her drivers licence - without looking she reached back over her shoulder expecting the teller to find her hand and place the licence in it... which he did

That's just bloody rude

Arrrggghhhh!

I saw a "diplomat" in a department store during a sale. Apparently, diplomats have some kind of card showing that they don't have to pay VAT. The diplomat woman was trying to get the sales person to calculate the VAT on the original price and then deduct that amount from the sales price so that she would save a few extra euro.

Needless to say, the true diplomat was the salesperson and the so-called diplomat made every tax-payer want to go on a rampage... especially since the diplomat was in her home country. Aaaarrrggg

(She was also trying to combine all that with the "extra" reduction reserved for store card-holders.....)

I was sitting at my favorite local restaurant with my wife, when the waiter came to the older couple at the booth next to us and asked, "Are you guys ready to order?"

The woman apparently has issues with her sexual identity, as she harangued him for about 5 minutes on being identified as a "guy," as if the poor waiter is responsible for the lack of a plural form of "you" in the English language, or the tacit acceptance of "you guys" in this half of the country as a reasonable substitute, as opposed to "youse," "y'all," or "y'uns" in other parts.

I don't work in retail thank god but have had to endure difficult public relations several times.

I work in the UK Post Office procesing microfilms (fun, no? )
Part of my job when I'm not reading the films involves manning the help line telephone, or rather the telephone at the desk at which I sit *is* the help line through which all and sundry arrive asking all manner of questions not necessarily connected with the department or the team I work in. I do my best to forward them to the appropriate connection within the building.

Notwithstanding the fact that the majority of callers confuse us with a processing unit down in london (We are situated in sunny Chesterflied nr. Sheffield some 300 or so miles north.) and are daily accussed/challenged by well intentioned post-masters to us to find a mis-laid envelope/pouch/letter they have sent to "us" - you'd think the area code of the phone number might give them a clue.

Anyway my favourite confused caller rung the helpline and the following ensued.

"Good afternoon, Post Office Ltd, Richard speaking , How may I help you?"

"I'm trying to reach extension 2039"

"I see."

"They're engaged - could you forward me please."

"Well not if they are engaged, no. Try ringing back later."


"alright then. Bye,"



And they hung up.




A few minute later the phone goes again....

"Hello, it's me again, I've just tried extension 2039 and it's not engaged anymore - could you forward me across now?"



I did so, but oye!

Technology is soooooooooo confusing, huh

Life: May contain small parts. Not suitable for anyone under the age of 36.

We had an escalator in the middle of the store which came up just in front of my department. You would not believe the number of people who would let their kids run wild on the escalator (well, all over the store, really).

It was, unnofficially, my job to intevene when I saw kids (or anyone else) doing anything on the escalator besides riding it to get up or down. I say "unofficially" as the GM didn't like us stopping people doing anything, even if it was unsafe, for fear of pi$$ing them off.

You wouldn't believe the number of parents who would berate me for daring to ask their children not to sit on the stairs, ride backwards, stick their hands in the slot where the handrail goes in near the floor, ride on the handrail, pull or push on the handrail, run up the down or down the up stairs, fight, push each other or by other customers...... etc., etc.

The two most horrifying things that I saw people doing was the parent who had their 2 year-old on with them. The mother wasn't holding her child's hand and wasn't watching him. The kid kept tipping over and putting both his hands on the stiairs in front of him. Just as they reached the top, and before either I or the other manager could have reached them, the child fell over again and couldn't get up.

The top step levelled out and the child's fingers were moving dangerously close to the comb at the top. The mother reached down, without even looking at her child and grabbed his hand to step off the escalator. His right hand actually did get pinched but the mother was oblivious to the fact that her child came so very, very close to a horrifying accident.

Both the manager and I were on the wrong side of a barrier and would not have been able to reach them in time. We both had to leave the floor we were so shaken. I was in tears.

The second incident that lives in memory was the child who put their hand in the handrail guide, as mentioned above. I went over and tried to get them to stop playing and to take their hand out, but they started screaming at me and trying to put their hand in. The mother actually came over and started yelling at me for daring to bother her child. I tried to explain that it was not a toy and she was nowhere to be seen. She said "I was watching him!"

I yelled back at her "Well, you nearly watched him get his hand ripped off!" and stomped off. She actually had the nerve to complain about me. Luckily, the manager she complained to was the one really good manager, who was as worried about the escalators and kids as I.

Why was I so horrified by this? I witnessed a child strangle in an escalator when I lived in New York. The cord for his parka hood caught in the comb in the top of the escalator and no one was able to cut him free in time. He, too was playing on an escalator.

Mudhooks, just out of interest,a nd this may seem a bit of a tangent, but it will make sense believe me, have you ever seen the film "Mallrats"

I think I saw a few minutes of the beginning of it one evening when I was just on the way out of the houes (I do occasionally do that, though it surprises even me....)

I am afraid I don't know anything about it.

Well, there's a sequence with one of the characters having a real rant about children on escalators and how they always get injured and their parents take no control.

Right up my alley, then.. My pet peeve.

I used to hate the 'regulars'. God, these people. Everyday without fail they would wander round the supermarket, complaining about the quality of the fruit and veg and talking to the employees like they were our friends. I saw one old bloke so much I began to remember the way he laid out his purchases in his trolley. Dear God.

Anyway, this regular come in one day and started rifling through the organic leeks. I happened to be doing something next to him at that particular moment and I knew he was looking for a bad leek so he could complain. He really had to search for one. Unfortunately he found one and turned to face me. I was expecting an earbashing about the quality of Waitrose's food etc, but instead, he simply clutchd the leek, looked at me, shook his fist in the air angrily and shouted "Wait-rose!" at the top of his voice before placing the leek back in its tray. Then he walked off. He reminded me of He-Man bellowing his slogan. I just stood there slack jawed for a minute before running out back falling to my knees with laughter. He really brightened up my day, the old fool.

We had "Mr. Mango" (I kid you not... that is his name!)

Many years ago he used to come into the rather posher than average W.H. Smith store I worked in. He used to wander about "perusing" Anonymous books ("erotica"). After about an hour of browsing, he would some up to the cash with his selection of dirty tomes.

He would try and make small talk with this sort of "nudge-nudge, wink-wink" smirk. I would hide before he got up to the cash if I could, but usually the other employees would beat me to the back room. He would hand me the cash and take his change... He would open his briefcase for me to put the bag with his books in it. There was always a large selection of porn mags, the kind that are wrapped in plastic.

I hated to even touch his money. He had some sort of horrible skin condition and smelled really awful. I would stuff his money in a small plastic bag and put it under the cash drawer so I wouldn't have to touch it again and run off as son as he left and scrub my hands.

Many years later when I worked in the big box store, he was a regular there, too. At least I didn't have to deal with him personally. I found out that he was a regular at some other bookstores in town and used to like to corner the female staff and make suggestive remarks. He was finally banned from one chain....

Ewwww. Thankfully I didn't have anyone as bad as that...

My sister used to work in a library which had its fair share of bizarre regulars though, including one man who smelled like he hadn't washed for months and almost always required assistance...

And yet... on the other hand

Many years ago I had a Saturday job at a inside market. One morning an incredibly ultra-foul smelling old lady, built like a battleship, ranting in some weird language and waving her walking stick dangerously about, hitting some stalls, came on the scene.

To my complete bewilderment, none of the market people seemed to take any notice. Our stall had a small "walk round" area in the middle of plastic goods. There she went bashing her way and then moved off.

The stall owner just sprayed some deoderizer and ignored the matter. Naturally, I told him how suprised I was, especially by his lack of reaction (usual rule: no messing with our stall ! ).

The old lady had been found "like that" at the end of WW2 in a concentration camp. No one really knew who she was, where she came from and what had happened to her.

As the man said "God knews what she's been through, if a few whacks at my buckets make her happy, so be it. Glad to see the old girl's still going strong".

It's not just wishy-washy libs who have a heart.... and one 13-year-old learned a little bit about life.

Mallrats... Would you like a chocolate pretzel?

I was in my local corner shop last week and the man in front of me in the queue smelled of ear wax, I mean _really_ smelled, the shop stank.

Liam.

Ewww...

Well, yes. I often think "But for the grace of God, ther go I".

One local fellow who used to spend all day walking, walking, walking all around town was a cheerful sort. People looked at him like he was something they had trod in.

I knew that he had once been a marvelous poet. He had a foray into drugs and it broke him. He always had a smile on his face and if you said hello to him he would smile and wave.

I asked him once if he was looking forward to summer weather, He said "No, I like to walk in the bad weather because I am always alone. It isn't so crowded in the rain or snow."

I knew he had a wife and daughter. How it must have affected her, I don't know.

Recently, he has deteriorated and stands and pan-handles.

Another fellow who frequented the mall I worked at spent his days wandering up and down the mall whistling. Always cheerful. Francois had been a University Professor... either Philosophy or Mathematics, I can't remember. He had been in a horrific car accident some years before and suffered brain damage.

He once foiled a robbery in the mall by beating the crap out of the robber..... People used to get him to go to the bank for their rolls of change. I don't know what ever happened to him.

Someone I went to high school with panhandles downtown. He developed schizophrenia at the end of school. He is a sweet fellow, but can have his moments. I try to find him whenever I am downtown and we talk. When I was in high school, we went out a couple of times but I think his mental problems were beginning and he just sort of drifted away.

I used to work in a store that sold mainly dancewear, as well as bridal accessories, 'novelty' chocolate and theatrical outfits (it was rather eclectic!). I was helping out in the St. Albans store on Xmas eve, we'd had a lot of guys coming in and buying leotards and leggings for the wives, and the boss would generally make the joke of "you can try them on in the changing room if you like".. much jovial laughing ensued. I was learning from my day, and when I assisted another gentleman finding some shiny leggings, I tried the joke with a big smile.. "there's a changing room over there if you'd like to try them on"....
"OK, thanks very much" he said, and went to try them on! I was very surprised and didn't use the joke any more!
Apparently the St. Albans store got frequented by a Lot of transvestites!

Same company, different location - I was working the late night and had a fella in who looked a bit nervous and wanted to try on some of the bridal shoes we had, I guessed he was a tranny cuz he still had remnants of eyeliner on, he was a bit of a cuddly fella too. ANYhoo, I'm broad minded so let him use the changing room to try on the shoes, rather than in the middle of the small shop, our largest size didn't quite fit him, tried silk rather than satin cuz it stretches more, to no avail. I made a joke that he'd have to trim his toenails and come back... a couple of weeks later he returned, my assistant asked if he wanted any help but he asked for me especially, asked to try the same shoes, and then told me joyfully that he'd cut his toenails this time! I was so surprised I just laughed and said great! Bless 'im, they still didn't fit!

Queegle