Out finally doing some Christmas shopping today. I head to a bookstore and I’m looking at some calendars that are stuffed too closely into a wire rack. I go to pull one out and it gives suddenly, causing my hand to smash up into the upper rack. I have a gash on my finger, about an inch long, not too deep, but bleeding pretty good for a cut that size.
I head to the customer service desk in hopes of getting a bandage. There are no clerks at the desk, and one customer arrives a moment before I do. I see him pull out a list of about ten books that he wants the clerk to help him locate.
A clerk approaches about a half a minute later and asks to help who’s next. List Boy starts to ask about his books but I immediately break in on him and say, (to him) “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to cut in,” (to the clerk) “but I need a first aid kit, I’ve cut myself.” The clerk starts looking through drawers for a bandage, and List Boy starts getting pissy, complaining about how he was there first and how unbelievable it is that the clerk would help me in favor of him, who’d been waiting there longer (by about 15 seconds). The clerk didn’t find a bandage and so went into the back to get one from an employee area. This prompted List Boy to complain louder as the clerk walked away. Another clerk came up about a minute after the first one left and offered to help List Boy. This was his cue to snot to the second clerk about the terrible first clerk. A little after that a third clerk came up and asked if I’d been helped, and List Boy started bitching at her about how clerk one took me over him!
All through this, I’m standing there in a sort of stunned silence, simply not believing that someone could be such a dick. Yes, asshole, technically I cut in front of you, but I was bleeding. You got waited on about 30 seconds later, because the clerk prioritized someone who was bleeding over helping you find books that, if you had a brain in your head, you could find on your own. You were a dick to me and to three different clerks, even after I apologized to you even before asking for help, and oh by the way, did I mention that I was bleeding?
Dang, Otto, it’s amazing what you’ll do to gain a little advantage while shopping.
If you accidentally bled on any of the Far Side, Gorey or Charles Addams calendars, it’ll be great for the ambience.
Sorry, Otto, but you were just plain rude. Obviously, he was there first. The polite thing to do would be stop bleeding, wait until he was done and out the door, then recommence bleeding so you could get help. The holidays are a stressful time for all of us, a little patience goes a long way.
My husband rammed the back of my ankle with a shopping cart at Kohl’s one day. I didn’t think it was that big of a deal until I started bleeding on the floor. One of the cashiers went to the back to get me some first aid stuff, and the lady in line behind me rolled her eyes and sighed like I was holding her up on purpose (there were three other cashiers open!). Then, the LILBM turned her nose up when it became obvious that the helpful cashier would have to go get a mop for the floor, since I was leaving quite the little trail behind me. Yeah, bitch, like I did it on purpose, just to inconvenience you!
I had a minor car accident once. Nobody was hurt, thank goodness, but I was properly shaken up, as would be expected. My vehicle was undrivable, and the police had called for a tow truck, but I needed to get a ride home. This was before I had a cell phone, so I went into the nearest business to call my husband. The employees gave me the stink eye the entire time I was there, so after leaving a message on our home answering machine (the hubby should have been on his way home from work) I went back out to stand in the cold. I waited a half hour (which should have been long enough for him to get home, get the message, and come in for me) then went back in and asked if I could use the phone again to call his work and see if he’d been kept late or something. More stink eye, much grumbling. They handed me the phone receiver, which was wet, which I thought was strange, but I wasn’t feeling good at all, sick to my stomach and light-headed, and I just wanted to get home, so I quickly made my call, and skedaddled outside to wait until he finally arrived.
When I got home and took off my coat, the hubby said, “Oh my god, you’re bleeding!” It turned out that the fingernail on my left index finger was torn, and it was bleeding an awful lot. I have no idea how it’d happened (hit the steering wheel or something?) and I hadn’t felt anything. (Shock? Who knows?) I slowly pieced together what had happened . . . I’d wandered in, shaken, pale, and bleeding, and asked to use the phone, and must have gotten some blood on the reciever. They must have washed it off, then been pissed off when I came back to bleed on their phone again, rude and ungrateful bitch that I am. I mean, what was I thinking, having the nerve to ask to use their phone after an accident when I was hurt.
Nobody asked if I was okay, asked if I wanted a band-aid, asked if I wanted to sit down inside where it was warm. Assholes. I glare at that place every time I drive by.
Podkayne, your story reminds me of one told on this board a few years ago. The poster related how his car suddenly caught on fire, so he pulled into a gas station for help. He ended grabbing a fire extinguisher from the cashier, who then followed him out to his car yelling “You thief! You thief!”
I’d be grateful if someone had a link to that thread.
** Podkayne ** 's story remembers me of an incident I witnessed. I was in a cafe where I used to be a regular customer, and in the street, there was a firemen vehicle, due to some accident or minor fire. One of the firemen entered the cafe and asked if he could use the phone to call the fire station (no clue why he couldn’t call it directly). The owner agreed, the fireman gave his call, began to leave, but the owner called him back, saying : “Wait a minute! You didn’t pay!” and then proceeded to insist on being paid for the use of his phone, leaving the fireman, the patrons and even the owner’s girlfriend gapping.
The fireman eventually told him, in very polite terms, the equivalent of “go and fuck yourself, moron!” and I think to write a letter to complain if he was that unhappy, and we had to explain after the fact to the owner that, no, it wouldn’t cross anybody mind to make a fireman pay for an urgent phone call. Given that everybody was against him, he eventually admitted reluctantly that he had been wrong, because “he didn’t know” that it wasn’t done. Sort of “I wasn’t aware of this strange custom” rather than it being obvious.
The weirdest thing is that I knew quite well this man, and he had always been a really nice guy. His behavior was puzzling to me.
Otto–please be kind, & phone the manager of that bookstore.
Explain to her how nice & helpful the clerk was, when you were injured.
Point out, politely, that the clerk was responding to an emergency, & was not trying to be rude to the customer.
Suggest, in a nice way, that disciplining the clerk, or firing him, would be innapropriate.
Express the hope that you will see the clerk, the next time you visit.
Remind the manager that you got hurt on her premises, which would make her legally responsible for your injury, especially since her fixtures have unsafe sharp edges.
Then, express the hope that you will be happy to see the clerk, the next time you visit.
