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OCD Over The BLT

, , , , , , | Right | May 18, 2024

Customer: “Could I get a BLT sandwich, but… like… with every ingredient on the side?”

Me: “So, you’d like to assemble it yourself at the table?”

Customer: *Looking nervous* “Yeah… is that okay?”

Me: “I got you, mate! Tell me what you need.”

My aunt has OCD, so I have a good gauge of what this is. And when I say OCD, I don’t mean in an “OMG, I have to have my desk neat and tidy” kind of way, but more like “If the desk has the pen the wrong way around in its placement, I will be unable to function for the rest of the day” kind of way — real OCD.

I lay out all the items on the side for the customer on little plates, and he gets visibly more relaxed as we go. He thanks me profusely when the order is finished, and we chat for a moment.

He came in at a time when he knew we’d be quiet. His therapist encouraged him to try to order food out instead of cooking at home, and our “build your own sandwich” store seemed like a good place for him to start.

Customer: “Thank you so much for accommodating me. I usually get a hard time for it wherever I go.”

After he leaves, my coworker also thanks me.

Coworker: “That was great. It taught me not to immediately judge people.”

It All Amounts To Some Sweet Petty Revenge

, , , , , , , | Working | May 18, 2024

I’m usually not this catty, and I wouldn’t do this in most other situations.

From late 2018 to early 2019, I worked for a grocery store to make money for rent. I was working thirty hours a week while attending school, so I pretty much had no life, but I didn’t have a choice because I had to pay $700 a month and other living expenses.

On the second day, I “violated” the dress code by wearing dark blue jeans instead of black jeans. I had no clue this was a thing because during training they told us that they’re not strict on dress code. The manager (who made $52,000 a year) let me off with a warning.

About four months later, I had an incident where I was walking to work in the winter. It was drizzling, but there had been freezing rain the night before, so the ground was a weird combination of muddy and slippery. As careful as I was, I slipped and got my black jeans all muddy and freezing wet. I couldn’t wear these for eight hours, so I decided to spend $40 on a rideshare back home and to work again so I could change. Unfortunately, I only had those dark blue jeans, so as soon as I got to work, I went to my manager and explained the situation and let him know that this wouldn’t happen again.

Instead of understanding me, he told me he couldn’t trust a “kid” who couldn’t uphold a simple dress code, and he told me to leave the store and never come back. On the way out, he told me to come back in five years so he could “assess” if I had amounted to anything.

The next few months were tough as I struggled to pay rent and expenses while searching for a job in a city with high density.

Fast forward to now. I’m a Product Analyst (a mix of software development and sales) and make $82,000 at the age of twenty-six.

I’m visiting my alma mater because I was invited by an old professor to give a speech to the upper-year class. I’m wearing a $500 cashmere sweater — irresponsible spending, but it feels like all is right in the world when I put it on.

On my way back home, I decide to stop at the infamous grocery to grab some snacks. Lo and behold, I see Mr. “You Won’t Amount To Anything” stacking boxes onto shelves half a decade later. I go up to the shelf to grab a full box of chips.

Me: “Hey, [Former Manager], don’t mind me. I’m just going to grab a box or two of these. I make almost double what you make now, so don’t even worry about it.”

Lowkey, I sort of mess the boxes up, as well. He looks at me, shocked, like he’s never seen me before. Then, he recognizes me. He looks at his watch. I roll up my sleeve and point to my smartwatch.

Me: “It’s 4:10. You should get back to work.”

He stands there without saying a word, and I pat his back.

Me: “I’ll be back next year to check up on you.”

Man, I felt like a b****, but that felt so necessary. Flexing on poorer people is awful and you should never do it — unless it’s your b*** boss who fired you for the worst reason, taunted you, and made you suffer financially as a result.

No One Wants A Doctor Who’s A Slacker

, , , , , | Learning | May 18, 2024

When my boyfriend and I were medical students, we had to do rotations in surgery. We were assigned to teams of two students, and once a week, we would be on call all night long, followed by a full workload the next day. It was brutal, but having a partner helped some.

[Boyfriend] unfortunately got stuck with a partner who was irresponsible. She wasn’t very helpful when on call and was a slacker even when she wasn’t on call.

One on-call night, [Partner] never showed up. No call, no text, nothing. [Boyfriend] texted me, asking what he should do, as he had her phone number and could text her to ask where she was.

But the night was young, and he decided to just wait for her to show up, assuming she was running late or had unforeseen circumstances. He was expecting her to eventually show up or contact him with a flimsy excuse, but it never happened. Instead, he ended up doing double duties all night because he had no partner.

In the morning, [Boyfriend] asked me what he should do.

Boyfriend: “Should I text [Partner] to ask why she didn’t show up?”

Me: “Instead, you should go directly to the secretary who coordinates students in the surgical office. If a student is sick or has an emergency, they’re supposed to contact the secretary.”

So, he went to the secretary and expressed his concern that his on-call partner had not shown up and had not contacted him to say why. He asked the secretary if the student had contacted her instead, but she had not.

The surgeon who was in charge of the students heard from the secretary that the girl had been AWOL the prior night, and he was livid. He chewed her out in front of everyone until she cried.

Her friends, also medical students, complained to my boyfriend that he should have reached out directly to the student instead. But if she didn’t have the decency to send him even a text message, she didn’t deserve anything better.

When Your Bank Balance Doesn’t Stop You From Being Imbalanced

, | Right | May 18, 2024

A lady is shopping in our store.

Customer: “I want these sunglasses but in red.”

Me: “We don’t have that in stock right now, ma’am.”

Customer: “Well go find some for me!”

Me: “Ma’am, I will be unable to locate that specific color of sunglasses within our store, but I can—”

Customer: “—Do you know how much I spend here?!”

Me: “No, ma’am, but I—”

She pulls up her banking info and shoves her phone into my face.

Customer: “Look at this! Look how much money I have!”

A manager has to step in, and she tries to show him too! Like the amount you spend anywhere is magical and makes inventory appear on a whim…

This Yahoo’s As Big A Problem As His Yahoo

, , , , , , | Related | May 18, 2024

I have my grandfather and his much younger business partner as a client.

Partner: “Your grandfather’s Yahoo is broken.”

Me: “His Yahoo? Do you mean the email account has a problem, or is the website down?”

Partner: “Yes, his email. You have to fix it. Do you have a few minutes?”

Me: “I live in Toronto, remember? He lives over two hours from here.”

Partner: “No, I mean over the phone. You tell me, and I’ll call him and tell him what to do. I think Yahoo has a virus.”

Me: “You mean you think his email was hacked?”

Partner: “No, a virus. He can’t log into his email. You reset his password, and he can’t log in. I can log in using his email and password, but the Yahoo on his computer must have a virus. He took it to one of those shops, and now his Yahoo doesn’t work.”

Me: “Are you sure he isn’t typing his new password in wrong?”

Partner: “No, that’s ridiculous. It must be a virus. Can you, like, Google a virus?”

Me: “Uh, yeah. I’ll call you back.”

I have a coffee and check my schedule to see if I can fit a trip out of Toronto to see my grandfather over the weekend. When I call to see when would work…

Partner: “It works! Everything is fine. Problem solved, and your grandfather is relieved.”

Me: “Good! I’m glad the virus is gone.”

Partner: “Don’t be silly. It was the password. He wasn’t typing it in right. Your grandfather’s very old, you know.”