The time the bank became a fast food help line and caused an old woman pain.

Hello, all. I just found this sub and have spent the last two hours reading posts. I am no longer a call center rep. However, I was one for quite a while many years ago.

So, on to my tale…

I worked, at the time, in the call center of a small, local, bank. To give you an idea of what I mean by “small,” there were only 10 of us in the entire call center (including my boss). Because of this, and because the bank only had about a dozen locations in total, the call center reps all ended up getting a handful of regular customers. Someone would call in and request a specific rep to handle their call. For a small bank, that’s no big deal.

One of my customers, who would only talk to me (for some reason or another), was an elderly woman I’ll call “Mary.” Mary was sweet, retired, widowed, and approaching 80 years-old. She lived alone and, I think, used the times she called in to the bank as a social outlet.

One evening, I see her number pop up on my screen. I had talked to her enough that I recognized her number on sight. I smiled, because Mary was always pleasant…if a bit weird.

Me: Thank you for calling [Local Bank], this is Onyx_Owl, how can I help you today?

Mary: Oh, good! It’s you, Onyx. I am so happy it’s you!

Me (already pulling up her account): How are you tonight, Mary? Everything okay?

Mary: Oh, yes, dear. Everything is fine. I just need to know how much is in my account. You see, I really want nuggets.

Me: Excuse me? Nuggets?

Mary: Nuggets, yes. My neighbor is going to take me to [Fast Food Place]! I haven’t had chicken nuggets in so long. I love them with sweet and sour sauce!

Me: Well, you have [low balance, under $10] in your account right now.

Note: Mary lived off of social security and this call happened a day or two before her next check would be deposited. Sadly, getting under $10 was normal. It broke my heart, but that’s another conversation altogether.

Mary: Oh, dear. I didn’t know I was that low. How much do chicken nuggets cost, honey?

Me: I’m afraid I don’t know, Mary. I would guess a full meal would be about six to eight dollars.

Mary: Well, I don’t want the full meal, just the nuggets. Could you find out for me?

Normally, looking up fast food prices for a customer would be well outside my job responsibilities. But, when you’re asked by a 80 year-old to help her find out the price of chicken nuggets, you just have to go along with it. My call center, though, had an insanely restricted internet. We could access our company website, sites for the federal reserve, Kelley Blue Book, and other such sites. Fast food places were NOT whitelisted. So, I placed her on hold and called over to the [Fast Food Place] that was nearest her address (after looking it up in a phone book). A few minutes later, I was back with her.

Me: Mary, it looks like an order of ten chicken nuggets is [whatever price…like three to four dollars].

Mary: Wonderful! Thank you so much, dear! Have a good night!

Now, if this situation had ended here, I would have just smiled and gone on with my life happy that I helped a sweet octogenarian find nugget nirvana. But, it continued the following afternoon.

Me: Thank you for calling [Local Bank], this is Onyx_Owl, how can I help you today?

Mary: Honey, I’m so glad it’s you.

Me: Are you alright, Mary? You’re not sounding too good.

What Mary said next is indelibly burned into my brain.

Mary: Oh, I’m not good, Onyx. The chicken nuggets gave me the shits.

Me: The…oh…I’m sorry…I…

I stuttered for a moment, unsure of what to say to that comment. I’ve never had an old woman tell me about gastrointestinal problems before.

Mary: It was awful, Onyx! I was up half the night with my ass glued to the toilet. Oh, dear, I haven’t had diarrhea like that in ages.

Me: stunned silence

Mary: I know it’s not your fault, honey. But, I wanted you to know that the [Fast Food Place] on [Road] has very bad chicken nuggets. Since you helped me, I wanted you to know not to eat there. I don’t want you to get the shits, too.

Me: Oh…umm…okay. Thank you for the warning.

Mary: You’re welcome, honey. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to the bathroom.

Mary hung up and I, a bit flabbergasted, took myself out of the queue for a few minutes in order to process what just happened. Mary called back many more times in the years I worked there. Thankfully, that was the only time I heard about her pooping problems. I did hear many other bizarre and inappropriate things from Mary, but that was the only bathroom-related one…thank God.

submitted by /u/Onyx_Owl
[link] [comments]

What do you think?

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

I couldn’t help her.

Customer accuses me of being part of an Illegal Cartel