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    Category: At The Checkout

    The customer has seemed normal and maybe even intelligent throughout the shopping purchase. But then they get to the checkout and as soon as human interaction is required it all falls apart. The checkout operators really are our first line of defense against the stupid customer!

    Getting Owned By The Owner

    | USA | At The Checkout, Bigotry

    (I work in a privately owned bookshop, and the shop owner/manager has very little patience for rude customers. He’s generally not unkind about it unless you upset other customers, though. He actually owns the property where the shop is located, and rents neighboring spaces to other businesses.)

    Customer #1: *to another customer* “You have a very nice a**!” *tries to grab her*

    Customer #2: *alarmed and backing away* “Don’t touch me!”

    Customer #1: “God, you feminist c***s need to learn to take a d*** complement! Besides you can’t f***ing tell me what to do, I’ll touch you if I godd*** want!” *tries to touch her again*

    Me: “Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

    Customer #1: “What’re you going to do about it? You’re only a woman, you have no right to tell me what to do. I have more rights than you! I’m better than you!” *tries to hand me a slip of paper* “Get me that book, slave!”

    Me: *refusing to take it* “You need to leave, sir.”

    Customer #1: “Get me your manager, stupid w****!”

    Manager: *approaching from behind, and speaking firmly to Customer #1* “Get out.” *to Customer #2* “I’m so sorry. Please let me know if there’s anything I can help you with.”

    (Customer #2 starts to tell him what she’s looking for, handing him a reading list, but Customer #1 isn’t done yet.)

    Customer #1: “Hey, who do you think you are, buddy? Do you even know which book this is?” *waving the paper at him*

    Manager: “I’m fairly certain everyone over the age of 12 knows what book that is.” *frowning* “I thought I told you to get out.”

    Customer #1: “Only the property owner can tell me to leave!”

    Manager: “Well even if that were true, I do own this property. So, you have two options. You can say good bye and leave, or you can just leave, which I would prefer.”

    (Customer #1 leaves, embarrassed. However, he remains in the parking lot, so afterwards my boss walks Customer #2 to her car. I ended up having to call the police to get rid of Customer #1.)

    Conan The Contrarian

    | Huntsville, AL, USA | At The Checkout, Awesome Customers, Geeks Rule

    Customer: “Today is my anniversary! Love is the best thing in life.”

    Me: “Actually…” *in Conan voice* “To crush your enemies, to see them driven before you, and to hear the lamentations of their women…” *back in regular voice* “…is the best thing in life.”

    Customer: “Ha! You made my day!”

    (She paid for a $6 meal with a $20 bill and told me to keep the change!)

    The Earnestly Being Important

    | MD, USA | At The Checkout, Food & Drink, Top

    (I’m a manager of a fast casual sandwich shop that is known for having very busy lunches. On this day, it’s the middle of our lunch rush and the line wraps out the door. We pride ourselves on fast service, and even have an employee out reassuring waiting customers. However, a middle-aged man rushes in, bypasses the line and goes straight to where you order your sandwich.)

    Customer: “I’ll have a big turkey sandwich on regular bread, with no cheese.”

    Employee: “Sir, I understand you’re in a hurry, but so is everyone else here. I assure you the line won’t take long and we can even give you the information to call in your order for next time!”

    Customer: “Do you know who I am? I’m too important for this, just make my sandwich.”

    (The customer then goes down to where they get the toppings put on the sandwich, before the sandwich is even out of the oven.)

    Customer: “I’ll have lettuce, mayo and tomato. Cut that into quarters, too.”

    Employee: “I’m sorry, sir, what sandwich did you have today?”

    Customer: “I said I’ll have lettuce, mayo and tomato!”

    Employee: “Oh no, that part is fine, I just want to make sure I know what sandwich is yours.”

    Customer: “Are you kidding me?! I just ordered, it’s the next one coming out. Does anyone here even know who I am? I don’t have time for this.”

    (At this point the customer comes down to the cash registers, butts in front of someone who is in the middle of giving their order and continues his little tirade.)

    Customer: “I had a turkey sandwich, a bag of chips and a regular soda.”

    Employee: “Sure, no problem. If you don’t mind though, I’d like to finish ringing up this gentleman in front of you.”

    Customer: “Are you kidding me? I’m in a hurry here. I can guarantee you that what I do here if far more important than what anyone else does in this line.”

    (At this point my cashier flashes a big smile, and begins to blush.)

    Employee: “Aw, thank you! That just made my day!”

    Customer: “Huh? What are you talking about?”

    Employee: “Well, sir, you just said you were a very important person and that how you spend your time is also more important than everyone else. Despite all this, you still feel it is just as important to spend your time visiting us today to eat our food. If you’re as important as you say, that must make us pretty darn important too!”

    (Several regular customers in line who overheard my employee agree and start clapping for her. Eventually, the whole store gets in on it. Seeing those individuals react the way they did that day made me proud to call them my employees.)

    No ID, No Idea, Part 9

    | Pennsylvania, USA | At The Checkout, Bizarre

    (I’m working the cash register. I’m supposed to card anyone who looks under 30 when they are buying cigarettes.)

    Me: “Hello, how are you today?”

    Customer: “Yeah, good. Can I have a box of [cigarette brand].”

    Me: “Sure! May I see your ID?” *the customer looks around 25 years old*

    Customer: “Excuse me?”

    Me: “I need to see your ID. The law is becoming very strict about carding people and you look under 30.”

    Customer: “Oh, I see! You just want my ID to see my address so you can know where I live. You’re probably going to sneak into my house in the middle of the night and take these back from me. I’m 39. I shouldn’t be carded, so that’s the only reason I see!”

    Me: “Yep, you got me. That’ll be $6.99.”

    Customer: “I’ll be watching. don’t think I won’t be!”

    Me: “Have a good day, sir.”

    Related:
    No ID, No Idea, Part 8
    No ID, No Idea, Part 7
    No ID, No Idea, Part 6
    No ID, No Idea, Part 5
    No ID, No Idea, Part 4
    No ID, No Idea, Part 3
    No ID, No Idea, Part 2
    No ID, No Idea

    Being The Bigger Man

    | Edinburgh, Scotland, UK | At The Checkout, Awesome Customers, Family & Kids, Top, Wild & Unruly

    (I am standing in a line for a checkout at a supermarket, when I look over and see a family with two kids in another line. The kids are throwing stuff everywhere, tins, bottles, and jars. The cashier, a young girl, is frantically trying to calm them down. Note: I’m pretty big, about 6’3″ and broad, plus I have a black eye, cut nose and a cut across my lip from a sports match the day before.)

    Cashier: *to kids* “Please stop throwing things. Someone’s going to get hurt.”

    Father: “How dare you! You people just get off on telling other people what to do! You’re all just fascists, that’s what!”

    Cashier: “Look, I’m not trying to tell you what to do, but your kids are going to end up hurting someone, and then it’ll be a big problem for all of us.”

    Mother: “Are you threatening us?”

    Cashier: *looking shocked and confused* “No! Not at all. I’m just saying that it would be best if you asked your children to stop before someone gets hurt.”

    Father: “You’re still making threats! Either you stop with that right now or I swear to God I will give you a big problem! I’m going to make you sorry you were born, unless you shut the f*** up right now!”

    (I catch the cashier’s eye, and she looks hopeless. I bend down, pick up a tin thrown by one of the kids and quietly move to just behind the parents.)

    Me: “Excuse me.”

    (They spin round. The father is not that tall, about 5’10″, so he’s pretty much looking me in the neck. I point at my black eye and battered face.)

    Me: “One of your kids just hit me in the face. Is this a problem I should take up with you personally, or should I just call the police?”

    (I’m looming over him now, very much invading his personal space.)

    Father: “Oh, God, I’m sorry! I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

    Me: “I would recommend you apologise to the nice lady who’s been putting up with you for the last 10 minutes without calling the police. It seems she’s had far more to deal with than me!”

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