[Expletive Deleted] x 3...

A funny thing happened to me at work yesterday.

We had a substitute manager because one is out on sick leave and the other had meetings all day. In walks Troy. Cute, indie-rock-looking, aviators-and-skinny-tie-wearing Troy. He was a breath of fresh air, let me tell you. So, we shot the breeze, found out his girlfriend is getting her premed in the Cayman Islands, found out he kind of hates his job, too, and basically just wasted the day. It was glorious.

But every glorious day has its dark spot.

This customer came in at about 10:30 AM. Tall, tattooed, Hispanic (not that that really matters except that he had a thick accent and I found it difficult to understand him). He had a credit card payment slip and a blank check from a relative, his dad, I think. He asked, "If he wants to make this check out for more than the payment amount and get cash back, can he do it?" I said he could, and then he starts to make the check out himself. I told him that I couldn't give him the money. His dad would have to be present. So he gave me this look that said, "I'm gonna gut you," and he left, cursing under his breath.

That was odd.

He comes back in. He mumbles something at me and I ask him to repeat himself. He says it louder and I still don't understand it. I ask him to repeat himself and he shouts each word at me. He wanted to know if his dad called us and told us it was okay, could I do it? I told him no. His dad would have to be present. So he flips out, goes, "Maaan, fuck you! Fuck this place. That's fucking stooopid." I said, "Excuse me! You don't need to be using that kind of language in here." And he said, "Fuck you." So I told him to leave. He says, "What are you gonna do?" I told him I'd call the cops. And then he called me "fucking pussy bitch" and left.

Well, Debbie, our Customer Service Leader, goes charging after him and follows him outside. She apparently told him never to come back. He said, "fuck you" to her, and she warned him not to use that language. He said it again and she told him that his mother should have beaten the shit out of him when he was little.

This is why she's my hero! So now if we see him again, no one will wait on him and we'll call the cops. And I'll be the first in line to be the "fucking pussy bitch" who picks up the phone.

Out

TMI Day...

I'd just like to issue a blanket statement to all my customers today: SHUT UP!!!

I don't want to hear about your husband cheating on you and you getting the house and then considering taking him back because we all screw up sometimes.

I don't want to hear about your invasive dental procedures and your opinions on insurance and dental costs, even less so if you adopt that ridiculous know-it-all tone.

I don't want to hear about your husband's debt.

I don't want to hear about your sunburn because of antibiotics and your grandma's warnings about it.

I ESPECIALLY don't want to hear about your pap smear.

What is it about today that makes people feel the need to share their most intimate details with the people at the bank? It's not a full moon...that's over. There must be someting in the air. I'll be exceedingly happy when it passes.

It's a good thing I leave for two weeks of vacation tomorrow.

Out

All Outta Love...

So, I got an envelope in the night drop this morning that was all kinds of wonky. There were deposits and payments and withdrawals and neither rhyme nor reason to any of it...Needless to say, I was confused.

So, I looked up the customer's phone number and work number. It was only 7:30, so I figured no one would want a phone call from the bank THAT early. I waited and worked on stuff...and at 9:15 I called the home number.

"I'm sorry. The number you are trying to reach has been disconnected."

Hmm...I hoped the work number was correct. I dialed.

"Central Steel."
"Umm...I'm looking for [name]."
There was silence on the other line.
Then, "Ummm...there's no one...what is this regarding? Where are you calling from?"
"I'm calling from a bank, trying to get a hold of her."
"Oh, let me connect you to HR."

And the hold music is Air Supply's "All Out Of Love."

And now it's stuck in my head.

That's really the blog I wanted to post. I'm sure you'll wonder what happened, though.

Apparently she didn't work there. So...wrong number? Old number? No idea.

I was at a loss. What the heck would I do if I couldn't get a hold of her? Would I mail it back? What if they'd moved? Could I email? Would they get it? I can't just hold on to it! Could I drive it to their house? I had their address...

And Nancy looks at me and says, "Try the phone book."

Duh. In the storm of technology and computer files, I forgot the phone book. That little book gets no love anymore...and it's not like I can help it, because "I'm all outta love."

Out

Stupidest Request of the Day...

Someone just asked me if I could notarize something through the drive thru.

Seriously?

Stupidest. Request. Ever.

Out

Friday the 13th...

So, this morning I was a superstitious man.

I woke up significantly late. I found out my boy isn't going to be around at all on Valentine's Day. There was this double-layered permafrost on my windshield that took for freaking ever to get off. By the time I got to work, I was cursing this day that otherwise I would let pass with a shrug. And then the computer I was planning on working on was unavailable, leaving me to have to work on the crappy one up front. And that's just the stuff that I want to mention here...

But.

Apparently it is turning around. After 9 the computer started miraculously being okay, so I moved to it. And then I realized it's payday. And the day the water guy shows up. That could brighten ANY day. Add to all of that the fact that we just heard that as of the 20th we're no longer doing Money Grams at work (the bane of ALL OF OUR existences). And then, the crowning moment of the day: the letter.

We got this letter from a customer, complaining about charges on her account. She came in a few weeks ago and we refunded the charges, and the letter was just to let us know that we never refunded the penny in her savings account. The penny that we put there in the first place. And...gosh was it worth sending with a 42 cent stamp. Seriously? Are there people that are that dense? Apparently so. And just to cement her identity as the brilliant one, she told us to send her the penny at the address listed above, which read [name here], DeKalb, IL, 60115. No street address.

Oh yeah. Made my day.

So, yeah...the day really is turning around.

Good for me.

Out