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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!

    You Say Milk, I Say Epinephrine

    | Portland, ME, USA | At The Checkout, Extra Stupid, Food & Drink

    (I work in a fairly well known coffee shop chain. A woman comes up to the bar to pick up her drink.)

    Me: “[Name], your venti iced no whip mocha.”

    Customer: “Excuse me! Does that have milk in it?”

    Me: “The iced mocha?”

    Customer: “Yes. That’s what I ordered: iced mocha coffee, no whip.”

    Me: “Yes. It’s made with milk by default.”

    Customer: “WELL, I DIDN’T WANT IT MADE WITH MILK! I AM HIGHLY ALLERGIC!”

    Me: “Oh, I’m sorry, ma’am. Let me remake that for you. So, you’d like iced coffee with mocha syrup and no whip?”

    Customer: “Whatever. Fine. Yes. Mocha coffee iced with no whip.”

    (I remake her drink rather quickly.)

    Me: “Here you are. Sorry about that. Let me take that other one.”

    Customer: “If it’s okay– I know you’re gonna dump it; I was hoping I could have it.”

    Me: *confused* “Okay. That’s fine.”

    Customer: *puts a straw in both* “Yum! These are both great! Thanks!”

    Related:
    You Say Tomato, I Say Epinephrine
    You Say Potato, I Say Epinephrine

    Shell Shocked

    , | Rehoboth Beach, DE, USA | At The Checkout, Bizarre, Food & Drink

    (It is late at night, in the middle of summer. I’m working at the first window, taking orders as well as working the register. The customer I get sounds drunk, but I don’t think too much of it until he gets to the window. The customer is in the rear seat of the car; thankfully the driver is sober.)

    Me: “Good evening. Your total is $[total].”

    Customer: “Okay… so that’s… uh…”

    (The customer stares at the money in his wallet for a moment before handing me a wad of bills.)

    Me: “Alright. Here’s your change and your recei—”

    (I turn to hand him his change, to see that he now has a large brown paper bag on his lap. He looks at me, then reaches in the bag and pulls out a crab covered in Old Bay seasoning.)

    Customer: “D’you want a crab?”

    Me: “Er… no thanks.”

    Customer: “You sure? They’re really good!”

    (The customer tries to hand me the crab anyways.)

    Me: “I’m sorry. We’re not allowed to take… tips?”

    Customer: “Aww… that sucks. Well, you have a nice night.”

    Me: “Here’s your change. You have a good night, too!”

    (My colleagues and I were all left wondering what he was doing getting fast food when he had something better!)

    The Price Is Right, The Customer Is Not

    | Denver, CO, USA | At The Checkout, Extra Stupid, Food & Drink, Money

    (It is Thanksgiving. A customer comes up to the register with a mountain of ads from other stores, since we offer price match. She puts three turkeys on the belt.)

    Customer: “Hi. [Competitor Store] has turkeys for 87 cents a pound. Can you match it?”

    (Our price is 79 cents a pound.)

    Me: “Oh, ma’am. No need to price match; ours is cheaper.”

    Customer: “No, it’s not. I see the prices and [Competitor Store] prices are much cheaper.”

    Me: “Honestly, ma’am, they are indeed cheaper.”

    Customer: “Please humor me. Honor your policy and give me the price I want!”

    (At this point I shrug my shoulders and comply.)

    Me: “Alright. Your total is $47.90.”

    Customer: “See! Much cheaper.”

    (The customer puts the turkeys in her cart and walk away. About twenty minutes later, I’m helping the customer service desk. The same woman from earlier comes in line looking clearly upset. I open my register. Since she is next in line, she comes to me.)

    Customer: “You cheated me! You gave me [Competitor Store] price when you knew your stores prices were cheaper!”

    Me: “Ma’am, if I remember correctly, I tried telling you our price. You insisted on getting [Competitor Store] prices. Knowing that the customer is always right, I did as you wished.”

    (The customer turns bright red and starts yelling.)

    Customer: “In this case the customer was wrong! Now give me your price.”

    Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am. Once meat leaves the store, we can no longer return it, nor change the price you received.”

    (The customer screams. She takes her three turkeys and runs off.)

    Showing Devilish Customers How It’s Done

    | AK, USA | At The Checkout, Bad Behavior, Religion, Top

    (A particularly angry customer comes through my line. Despite my best and calmest efforts to help, she begins to yell at me in front of the whole line. Among other things, she calls me names, says I don’t deserve to be alive, and then tries to punch me on the top of my head. I have to spend a full twenty minutes in the break room to try and calm down. One of my coworkers has witnessed the whole thing. The very next day, the customer returns, acting like nothing has happened. My coworker suddenly stands in front of customer.)

    Coworker: “Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

    Customer: “What?! Why?”

    Coworker: “Because yesterday you yelled at and assaulted one of my coworkers until she cried. I believe that’s grounds for a ban from the store. Please get out.”

    Customer: *growing angry* “You can’t do that, you brat!”

    Coworker: “Ma’am, three minutes’ worth of security footage and several witnesses says I CAN do that. You will not be welcome here any longer. Leave.”

    Customer: “You can just go to H***, you—”

    Coworker: “I went there once. Now I RULE it. Now GET OUT OF OUR STORE.”

    (By this time three of the managers have arrived to back him up and escort the customer out. She screamed for a little while longer but eventually left, and never came back!)

    And The Father Of Despair Is On Aisle Three

    | MT, USA | At The Checkout, Bizarre, Funny Names

    (I am doing a return for a customer. She is getting money back for it. I have to get a manager to come up to open the register. To do so, I call over our walkie-talkies.)

    Me: “Can I get an M.O.D to customer service?”

    Customer: “M.O.D?”

    Me: “Oh, M.O.D just means ‘manager on duty.’”

    Customer: “Oh! I thought it stood for ‘Mother of Destruction!’”

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