A customer is trying to pay with their debit card, but the PIN isn’t working.

Me: “Sir, not that I am trying to see what you’re entering into the pad, but I can see that you’re only putting in three figures. Your PIN will be four.”

Customer: “No, it’s always these three numbers. It’s on the card.”

Me: “It’s on the card?”

Customer: “Yes! The three numbers on the signature slip!”

Me: “Sir, that’s a security code, not your PIN. You have to come up with your PIN yourself and keep it secure. You never tell anyone what it is and it’s always a minimum of four numbers.”

Customer: “What? You mean I have to make the PIN myself?”

Me: “Yes, sir.”

Customer: “Well, can’t you make one up for me? I don’t want that much responsibility.”

Me: “That’s… not how that works, sir. You would need to talk to your bank about setting up your PIN for you if you don’t know it, and they can talk to you about security.”

Customer: “Fine! But this is bad customer service. You’re making me responsible for my own credit card and I don’t like it!”

Related:
PIN-Headed, Part 19
PIN-Headed, Part 18
PIN-Headed, Part 17
PIN-Headed, Part 16
PIN-Headed, Part 15

I used to work at a natural foods grocery store in a suburban area. We had a mix of hippy-type people, who tended to be easy to get along with, and entitled rich people.

A lady comes through my line.

Me: “Did you find everything you needed today?”

Customer: “The bakery was out of [fruit tart]. I’m really upset that you’ve gotten me addicted to them and then decide you don’t want to stock them consistently.”

I started laughing thinking she was joking and looked up to see her staring angrily at me.

She was not joking.

Related:
Never Joke With The Customers… Ever!, Part 2
Never Joke With The Customers… Ever!

I work the self-checkout registers at a grocery store. A sketchy-looking couple comes up with a fully-loaded double-wide cart. Our self-checkouts have a carousel with four bag racks and a small shelf above, and you aren’t supposed to take the bags off before you pay.

They ring up most of their stuff and start to take the bags off. My PDA starts going off because items are being removed.

Me: “Sorry, but you have to leave them on the scale, or else it locks up and you can’t scan anymore.”

Technically, I can press a button on the PDA and override it, but we aren’t supposed to. The lady scoffs and rolls her eyes as she put the bags back on, and then she starts taking them off again after I walk away. I end up just getting irritated and overriding the weight differences.

They finally get to the end of their order, which ends up being over $200, and they pay with food stamps. After they swipe their card, there’s still a small balance left, and they call me over for help. I look at my PDA and scroll through their order, and I see that they have a package of steamed seasoned shrimp.

Me: *Politely* “You aren’t allowed to buy hot food on EBT.”

Customer: *Starts pitching a fit* “We bought them raw and had them steamed!”

This is pretty much telling me they steamed them and priced them as raw shrimp, which you can get in big trouble for doing. I call my manager over and he tells her the same thing.

Customer: *Scoffs and rolls her eyes* “Take them, then! Void them off!”

I do, and I take them to the attendant station where I call the guy in the seafood department to come and take them back. I tell my manager what happened.

Manager: “We’ll just have to throw them away since it violates health code to rechill in-store-cooked seafood.”

Customer: “Well then, we’ll take them, since you’re just gonna trash them.”

I could tell how hard my manager was trying not to laugh. I’m pretty sure the couple called a few days later to complain.

A guy comes in to get balloons for his kid’s birthday party. He hands us a pack of balloons he picked out and a table centerpiece. He tosses them toward our counter.

Customer: “Make something good with all this.”

Me: “The balloons aren’t meant to tie to the centerpiece.”

Customer: “I’ll have none of that! You offer a balloon-pumping service, so I expect something good enough for my son’s party!”

We go into the back room and start attempting to build this thing. A few mishaps set us back on time, but we’re still working pretty fast.

Fifteen minutes later, this guy comes storming into the back — not allowed!

Customer: “I’m tired of waiting!”

Me: “Sir, please wait outside. We are going as fast as we can.”

We speed things up a bit. Five minutes later  —twenty minutes after we started — he comes storming back again:

Customer: “I’ve been waiting for over an hour! I don’t even want the d*** thing anymore!”

He went up to customer service, complained, and got a gift card. Ugh.

In my early twenties, I got my first job, moved out of the family home, and started taking night classes at the local tech college. Working part-time for minimum wage didn’t actually pay enough to live on, but my parents very generously agreed to pay half my rent, pay all of my school fees (I did get financial aid, but it didn’t cover everything), and give me a food allowance so long as I kept my grades up. I got by, but it was a no-frills existence. My one “non-essential” was my cat — who was absolutely “essential” so far as I was concerned.

My birthday came around, and I invited a couple of friends over to celebrate. They surprised me by taking me out for a surprise treat. The surprise? We pulled into a grocery store parking lot and went inside, and they put a buggy in front of me and told me to go wild. I didn’t understand what they meant at first.

Eventually, they explained that they were gonna buy me a buggy full of groceries. Anything in the store I wanted that’d fit in that buggy, they’d pay for. I was happy and shocked. We had fun going down every aisle, picking out foodstuff I’d never tried before because they were expensive, and being kinda goofy. My friends even convinced me to buy some bakeware and utensils. And, of course, I stocked up on kitty supplies. It was not a cheap trip. I ate very well that month, as did my cat.

I don’t think I fully expressed how blown away I was by their generosity at the time. I didn’t know how. But when I think back to the night of the surprise birthday grocery trip, I feel warm fuzzies and know that true friends are awesome.