Fortune's Last Cookie (diasphora) wrote in bad_service,
Fortune's Last Cookie

Been putting this off for a while.

After a trip to Florida and a negative balance in the ol' bank account on arrival back in Texas, I put 200 bucks in the bank and also scrounged up every coin I could manage to find: in my car, the bag of coins from my old car, the coins laying around my room, the coins in my purse, old purses, wallet, and old wallets.

I put these suckers in a bag, hauled it to my car and lugged it into the seat beside me, and set off for Kroger across the street to make use of their Coinstar machine This brilliant machine counts your coins, takes out a little bit for a fee (fine by me), and gives you a receipt for cash. Awesome.

Well, as you may have deduced from the words 'hauled' and 'lugged,' I had a lot of coins. A ton. A whhhhhole lot. Eighty-two dollars worth of coins, in fact.

While I was feeding the coins into the Coinstar machine, I encountered a problem right when I hit around 60 bucks. The machine told me to find some assistance and that my coins were safe, so I politely asked a guy bringing in carts if he could help me. He went off to get the Customer Service lady.

When she arrived, I thanked her for coming out to help. She was brusque, grunty, and a little condescending. She did, however, do a highly competent and quick job of fixing that machine. She owned that mother, I tell you.

However, it was an interchange like this that left me feeling annoyed.

Me (laughing conversationally): Heh, I figured maybe I filled up the machine, or something. I have a ton of coins. (I mean, dur, obviously I did. I'm bad at making small talk. I could be standing in the pouring rain with someone, and I'd probably go, 'Heh. Kinda rainy, huh.')
Her: Were a few of them gummy? Like, stuck together? 'Cause they all go through one hole, and if they're gummy, they'll clog it up and nothing can get through.
Me: Ohhhhh, okay! I tried to weed all those out, but I guess I must have let a few through.

I began to sort through the coins still on the grill in order to search for gummy ones to throw out. She was still working on the open machine, cleaning the lint guard. I am not an idiot. I was not about to start dumping more coins into the open, glaringly incapacitated machine.

Her: "HOLLLLDDD on!" ...This said in the voice one would give to a 5 year old.

I continued sticking gummy coins into the bag and sifting for more, ignoring the rude tone of her voice because, hey, I bet there are people stupid enough to try and go 'Durrr hee hurr, let me keep putting coins through the machine even though the door is open and there's a big stop sign on the screen.'

A few seconds later of sifting, when it was even more obvious I wasn't trying to mess with anything, she says, laughing in an irritated, impatient way, as if I was on the verge of just screwing up everything,

"Hahaha. Just hold on, okay?"

The whole interchange was spoken as if I were a pissy, rebellious fifteen-year-old and not polite and twenty-five. I get a little tired of looking young, because there are certain people, especially women, especially in their forties and on, who really will talk to me like I'm some kind of flaming little bitch who is giving them the oh-so-legendary phenomenon called 'lip.'

Another Kroger incident involved me in the middle of college, trying to buy a posterboard for some godforsaken professor who required it for some presentation. I had picked up the poster I was probably going to buy and set it down in front of me, leaning against the aisle and my knees, to give one last check on sizes.

A clerk (middle-aged female) walked by and proceeded to chew me out in proper soccer-mom-to-teenaged-daughter style for 'getting it dirty! Ugh! Dirty! PICK. THAT. UP.'

Here are some details: The coins in the first story were nowhere near the coin hole. The poster in the second story was propped up vertically and not thrown in a 'screw it' manner in the middle of the floor.

In both instances, I was polite and smiling. I don't know about most employees, but when I'm at work (restaurant), I treat every single customer/guest/whatever like they're demi-gods out for a spot of ambrosia. All ages, all sexes, all races. I figure it's nice for a change, considering the stereotypes we're all lumped into and the resulting treatment.

I could think of a hundred other stories involving me being treated like some mouthy little rebel without a cause and up to no good, but I don't have time.
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