I haven’t had such polite customers in a while. It was two young kids who looked to be ten or eleven. They came in and asked if we still sold our boba tea drinks.

Me: “Of course. The menu is here. What flavors would you like?”

It took a minute, but they decided on two drinks: a mango and a plain milk tea.

The total was $12.42, and they emptied their hoodie pockets onto the countertop. It was mostly coins, and they had a few single dollar bills. Admittedly, I thought their parents hadn’t given them enough, but…

Kid #1: “We’ve been saving quarters just for your drinks!”

Kid #2: “We don’t know how much we have. Can you count it for us, please?”

I was going to spot them if they didn’t have enough — they were truly sweet kids — but they had enough.

I brewed the best boba drinks I had ever made. They were the politest guests I’d had in weeks. I made sure these cups were filled to the brim, with extra pearls and everything — the whole nine yards. These were blue ribbon-worthy drinks by the time I had them done.

They even pushed their chairs back in place. That’s a rarity where I work.

I know this is boring compared to a lot of stories, but it made my day, and I just wanted to share it. I hope they enjoyed their drinks today. They also insisted on tipping me a dollar in quarters “just because”.

I am training a new worker at the checkouts. They’ve gone through the scripts in the training guide and have been putting them to use in the real world. A customer who is obviously blind is checking out and has purchased a bottle of wine.

New Hire: “Can I please see your driver’s license?”

Me: “[New Hire], he won’t have one.”

Customer: “I’m afraid he’s correct, my friend.”

New Hire: “Then I am afraid I have to refuse this sale, sir.”

Me: “No, [New Hire], you can ask for alternative forms of ID.”

New Hire: “But the guidebook said a driver’s license is best.”

Me: “Because it’s the most common, but not every customer is going to have a driver’s license.”

New Hire: “But the guidebook said—”

Me: “[New Hire], the customer is blind.”

The customer waves, smirking. He may be blind, but he can “see” exactly what’s going on here.

The new hire stops in their tracks for a moment to process this new information. The cogs sloooowly turn, and they gradually come out of their mental “blue screen”.

New Hire: “But the guidebook said—”

Me: “Here, sir, let me take over for you. Is that your passport I see there? Excellent!”

The new hire didn’t last much longer.

An older and well-dressed woman approaches me at the counter looking concerned.

Customer: “I’m concerned!” 

Nailed it.

Customer: “There’s a man using the ladies’ toilet!”

Me: “Oh, well, I can see why that could be concerning.” 

Customer: “They’re still in there! Hurry! You can catch them!”

I follow her, if anything just to calm her down, and we get to the ladies’ toilet. There’s no sign of a man, but one of the stalls is occupied.

Customer: “He’s in here, still!” 

Me: *Calling out* “Hello, this is a member of staff. Just to let anyone in here know, this is the ladies’ toilet, and the gents is just on the other side of the floor, for future reference.”

There’s the sound of flushing and a woman comes out of the stall. She looks around.

Other Customer: “No men in here, love, just me!” 

I turn to the “concerned” customer.

Me: “We must have just missed them. Sorry if he startled you. What did he look like, for future reference?”

Customer: “Well, I didn’t see him; I just smelled him.” 

Me: “Smelled?”

Customer: “He was…” *Looks left and right and then leans in to whisper* “He was… defecating!”

Me: “And you know it was a man?”

Customer: “Of course! A lady doesn’t do that outside her own home!”

Other Customer: “If you’re talking about taking a loud s***, love, that was me! The vindaloo from last night got the better of me, and I just had to… well… release it into the wild!” 

Customer: *Looking horrified* “But… but you’re a lady!”

Other Customer: “I’m a woman, aye, love, but I’m no lady!” 

The customer looks at me, pleadingly.

Customer: “You let… you let customers defecate in here?!” 

Me: “Well… it is a customer toilet, so, yes.”

Customer: “But… but… this is the ladies’ toilet! Ladies do not defecate outside their own homes! You need to stop that!”

Me: “Sorry, madam, but how would we do that?”

The customer continues to stare at me frantically, desperate to find an answer to my question. With none forthcoming, she throws her hands up in the air, declares that she’s never coming back to this “disgusting store” ever again, and storms out.

Other Customer: “I just passed a vindaloo so spicy it made my a**e look like the flag of Japan, but that woman was a more painful experience.”

My workplace bought a ton of computers. If you do that, you get perhaps a 10-15% discount off the top. They also, as a perk to employees, cooperated with [Computer Company] to let employees order laptops with the same discount. This was a program [Computer Company] offered.

I bought a $3,000 [Computer Company] laptop through this program. My card was charged, the laptop arrived a week later, and all was good.

A month later, I got an email from [Computer Company] apologizing for the shipment delay and refunding the purchase. In a fit of honesty, I called the support for the employee purchase program and said:

Me: “I’m not sure what you’re talking about, but I have the laptop on my desk.”

Employee: “Well, you’re going to have to call some other caseworker…”

And blah, blah, blah.

Me: “I’m not doing that. While I was prepared to be honest, I absolutely am not going to spend a ton of time on the phone attempting to straighten out your f***-up. You have a one-time offer, for the next ten minutes, to get this straightened out.”

My free laptop was awesome.

I owned and ran an Internet cafe on a beach in The Philippines from 2004 to 2005. The town had no ATM, no telephone lines, and electricity for only twelve hours a day (if you were lucky). The Internet connection was via satellite dish and was only 128 kbps. I had networked up four computers to share the connection. This was before Facebook and YouTube, so most customers would log into Yahoo! mail and just write emails.

The town was a good eight hours away from the capital of the island. This, of course, was the case only if it had been dry recently because the roads were all mud, and those times only applied if the bus did not break down or get stuck in the mud, both of which happened frequently. The bus left once daily at around 8:00 am.

In 2005, I was able to add the ability to send faxes through the Internet. A man walked up to the cafe one day.

Customer: “I’ve heard around town that you send faxes?”

Me: “Yes, of course!”

Customer: “Oh, great. You’ve just about saved my life! How long does it take?”

Me: “I will scan the pages you need sent and then send them. It takes just a few minutes, and your recipient will receive the fax immediately.”

Customer: “Lifesaver! How much does it cost per page?”

Me: “It’s $2 per page.”

Customer: “That’s outrageous! I only need to send two pages, and it only costs twenty cents per page in [City]!”

Me: “Okay, well… it’s 3:00 pm. The next bus leaves at 8:00 am tomorrow. It costs $6. You may get there in eight hours if you are lucky. Then, you can send your two pages for forty cents. There is no return bus until the next day, so you’ll need to stay in a hotel, which will cost $40. You’ll need to have dinner, which will cost $20 or more. Then, you’ll need to get the bus back the next day for $6. And that’s without any entertainment in the evening, nor lunch, nor breakfast. So, you are looking at spending over seventy dollars and two days of your time. Or… you can just give me $4, and I can send your lifesaving faxes immediately.”

Customer: “Fine! Here’s $4.”

There were two separate faxes to two banks: the first one was to immediately cancel a cheque for $10,000 and the second one was for $20,000! And he was moaning about an extra $4 to send it.

Related:
Taxing Faxing, Part 40
Taxing Faxing, Part 39
Taxing Faxing, Part 38
Taxing Faxing, Part 37
Taxing Faxing, Part 36