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    Okay, That Was A Little Mean

    | Washington, D.C., USA |

    (Our store was pretty dead on this night; no one came in for at least half an hour before closing, but like good employees we kept the doors unlocked until our registers read 8 o’clock on the dot. I lock the doors, and five minutes later, a woman walks up to the door.)

    Customer: *pulls on door, notices it’s locked, pulls harder*

    Me: “I’m sorry, we’re closed. But we’ll be open at nine tomorrow.”

    Customer: “What the h***?”

    Me: “Ma’am, we closed five minutes ago. I’m sorry, but our hours are posted.”

    Customer: “This is insane, it’s 7:59! You shouldn’t lock the doors so early.”

    Me: “Our registers show that it’s 8:07–” (I look at my watch and my cell phone) “–and I’ve got 8:08. I’m sorry, we open at nine tomorrow.”

    Customer: “I just need a few things! It won’t take long.”

    Me: “Our registers are closed, so there’s no money in them. You can come back tomorrow at nine. Even if it was 7:59, it takes more than one minute to shop and check out.”

    Customer: “This is ridiculous! I just need a few things.”

    Me: “Fine.”

    (I unlock the doors to let her in; my coworker finishes closing the registers. The woman runs around the store for ten minutes, grabbing several things that probably could have waited until morning, and plops them down on the register.)

    Coworker: *smiles* “Did you find everything you needed?”

    Customer: “Yes, thanks.”

    Coworker: “Unfortunately, our registers have been closed for 20 minutes and I can’t ring the sale after hours. Would you like me to hold it for you until tomorrow?”

    (The customer’s jaw drops. I go to hold the door open for her.)

    Me: “We open at nine.”

    (Coworker and I high-five.)