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So, I'm a few weeks into my new job as head cashier/photo lacky at a large pharmacy/drug store. Since I'm fairly new, I'm still not very familiar with our do-it-yourself photo kiosk.
Little bitty old lady comes in wanting to print the pictures she had taken with her digital camera. No problem, that's what the kiosk is for.
Except, in a moment of 867esque wisdom, I put her memory card in the wrong slot, and of course, it gets stuck.
Little bitty old lady goes ballistic. I call my MOD, and she comes down for a few seconds and tells me to try tweezers, but we'll probably have to have someone come out to get it out, informs me she was in the middle of counting the safe, and runs back.
Little bitty old lady goes ballistic-er (I'm aware that's not a word) that the manager "didn't seem to care very much", and at this point, I'm convinced the little bitty old lady is going to beat me to death with her large handbag that probably has a brick in it.
I tell her to go chill out on one of the massage chairs in the pharmacy waiting area, and I'll do my best to get her memory card out. She toddles off, and I grab every tool from the drawer to try to jimmy it out.
A few minutes goes by and I'm not having ANY luck getting that little darned thing out.
I then have a flash of brilliance as I remember my irrational obession with double-sided tape, and my feelings that you can do anything with some double-sided tape and a little imagination.
Low and behold, it worked. Little bitty old lady gets her memory card back, and I get to keep my life. Win-win situation.
Little bitty old lady comes in wanting to print the pictures she had taken with her digital camera. No problem, that's what the kiosk is for.
Except, in a moment of 867esque wisdom, I put her memory card in the wrong slot, and of course, it gets stuck.
Little bitty old lady goes ballistic. I call my MOD, and she comes down for a few seconds and tells me to try tweezers, but we'll probably have to have someone come out to get it out, informs me she was in the middle of counting the safe, and runs back.
Little bitty old lady goes ballistic-er (I'm aware that's not a word) that the manager "didn't seem to care very much", and at this point, I'm convinced the little bitty old lady is going to beat me to death with her large handbag that probably has a brick in it.
I tell her to go chill out on one of the massage chairs in the pharmacy waiting area, and I'll do my best to get her memory card out. She toddles off, and I grab every tool from the drawer to try to jimmy it out.
A few minutes goes by and I'm not having ANY luck getting that little darned thing out.
I then have a flash of brilliance as I remember my irrational obession with double-sided tape, and my feelings that you can do anything with some double-sided tape and a little imagination.
Low and behold, it worked. Little bitty old lady gets her memory card back, and I get to keep my life. Win-win situation.
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