Another day of work, another story of bizarre proportions. (Interjection: I really do like my job! It's just the people I often can't stand.)
Sometimes, when delivering beverages to large grocery stores, it's necessary to credit the customer for outdated or damaged products before bringing in the new order. Today was such a scenario. Normally, the salesman who places the order on behalf of the customer will arrange for credit, and then when the delivery driver (aka me) shows up, I have a credit slip, and I know exactly what's going out. Unfortunately, communication between the salesman and driver rarely take place. For some reason, the store receiver presumed I could read minds, and started yelling at me when I told him I needed to call the office to call for prices so the account could be properly credited. What was odd in this case was that the outgoing merchandise was neither old or damaged; it was just extra stock from a big sale the store had had the week before.
"This stuff needs to be taken out of here the second a sale is over!" the receiver ranted.
Assumption error #1: What, do you think everybody in my company spends all their spare time leafing through your adverts and fliers? Ah, true, we don't really have anything better to do.
Assumption error#2: Am I the salesman? Last time I checked, the answer was NO!
Assumption error #3: Apparently, you think I can just go to work and commandeer a truck just so I can drive down to pick up your overstock anytime a sale ends. Yeah, my job's truly that easy. Three strikes, you're out!
Methinks a fishing trip in the wilderness is long overdue for this guy.
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