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    Guessing Is A Whiskey Business

    | UK | Awesome Customers, Crazy Requests, Food & Drink

    (An elderly customer comes in. I’ve never seen him before in nearly two years of working there.)

    Customer: “I’d like a bottle of whiskey, please.”

    Me: “Okay, which one would you like?”

    Customer: “Well, I don’t know…”

    (I step to the side so he has a better view of the whiskey, but he just continues to stare at me. A few seconds pass…)

    Me: “Have you decided?”

    (The customer becomes irate.)

    Customer: “No, I haven’t decided! I was waiting for you to tell me!”

    Me: “Pardon?”

    Customer: “I was waiting for you to tell me what I want.”

    (I start listing the brands and prices for each bottle.)

    Customer: “No! I don’t care about any of that! Just tell me what I want!”

    Me: “I’m sorry, sir. I’m not sure what size bottle you’re after, or brand, or even how much money you have on you.”

    Customer: “USELESS! You lot are supposed to be here to help. I don’t know why I bothered coming here! Every time I come here, you lot never help me! You’re all USELESS!”

    (He storms out the shop. I begin to serve the next customer.)

    Customer #2: “Well, that was weird! Anyway, I’d like some wine please.”

    Me: “Okay, would you like any wine in particular?”

    Customer #2: “I don’t know, red wine? Can’t you just tell me what I want?! You’re so useless! WHY WON’T YOU JUST READ MY MIND AND TELL ME WHAT I WANT?! DO I EVEN LIKE RED WINE?!”

    (He pretends to storm out the shop. That guy never fails to cheer us up!)

    Cold Hard Cash(iers)

    | GA, USA | At The Checkout, Awesome Workers, Bad Behavior, Food & Drink

    (My mother is a cashier at a popular liquor store. I stop by to drop off her lunch. The credit card machines have shut down and the manager is in the back trying to get them running. The employees have let their customers know they will have to pay cash until then. Some customers leave for another store; most went next door to the bank ATM to get cash. One customer, however, isn’t particularly happy about this.)

    Customer: “So, you’re telling me I have to walk all the way over to the ATM to get cash?”

    (Note: the bank is right next door.)

    Mom: “I’m sorry, sir, but the credit card machine is down for the moment. You can go to the ATM or go to another store.”

    Customer: *scoffs* “Fine.”

    (He leaves the store, and comes back a few minutes later with cash in his hand.)

    Customer: “I had to pay three dollars to get money out of that ATM! I better get a discount!”

    Mom: “I’m sorry, sir. I don’t have that authority.”

    Customer: “I don’t care! I better get one!”

    (He picks up a $50 Scotch and returns to my mom’s register; she rings him up.)

    Customer: “Hey, you didn’t give me my discount!”

    Mom: “Sir, I’m sorry but I can’t give you three dollars off because you made the choice to go to the ATM.”

    Customer: “B****, give me three dollars off!”

    (The store goes absolutely silent, and everyone is watching the exchange.)

    Me: “Don’t talk to my mother that way.”

    Mom: “I’ll tell you what I can do.” *takes scotch and puts it under her stand* “I can refuse to sell this to you.”

    Customer: “I want to see your manager!”

    Mom: “Fine.” *calls manager*

    Manager: *comes over* “What’s the problem?”

    Customer: “Your employee said, and I quote, “I won’t sell you s***!”

    Me: “No, she didn’t!”

    Mom: “Sir, I did not use that language towards you.”

    Customer #2: “I’m a witness, and she didn’t say that.”

    Customer: “I WANT A DISCOUNT!”

    Manager: “Sir, leave. Now.”

    Customer: “Give me my discount!”

    Manager: “If you don’t leave right now I will call the cops.”

    Customer: “Fine, call the cops! I don’t care!”

    (The manager, Customer #2 and I, pull out our cell phones.)

    Customer: “I’m never coming back!” *runs out of the store*

    Me: “What was his problem?”

    Customer #2: “That guy needs to pull up his skirt.” *smiles at my mom* “I’ll keep coming back for the wonderful customer service, and tough-as-nails cashiers!”

    I’ve Got That Drinking Feeling

    | Brisbane, QLD, Australia | At The Checkout, Awesome Workers, Criminal/Illegal, Food & Drink, Underaged, Wild & Unruly

    (I’m standing in line at the counter, when an obviously drunk and under-aged boy wanders in. The cashier behind the counter is onto him like a shot.)

    Cashier: “Excuse me there, champ. Have you got some ID on you?”

    Drunk teen: “No, I don’t. Why?”

    Cashier: “I’m going to have to ask you to leave my shop then, champ. Right now, please.”

    Drunk teen: “What, just because I have no ID?”

    Cashier: “Among other things, yes. You can’t prove you’re 18, and you’re clearly drunk, which means you’re not legally allowed to be in this store. Please don’t be difficult; just leave.”

    (The drunk teen makes his way to the exit peacefully, but once past the front door decides to act up.)

    Drunk teen: “Well, f*** you! F*** you and get f***ed! I’ll f***ing be here if I want to f***ing be here!” *flips both middle fingers at the cashier*

    (The cashier, who is far taller and broader than he appears while he’s behind the counter, moves into the doorway to prevent the teen re-entering.)

    Cashier: *very calmly* “No, you won’t. Now you’re becoming both an annoyance and a disturbance. You’d better get out of here quick smart, before something happens that you’ll regret later.”

    Drunk teen: “F*** you! I’m gonna bash you man! I’m gonna beat your face!”

    Cashier: *cracks up laughing* “Champ, I doubt you could even beat yourself off at this point.” *takes a step outside the shop* “Please though, take a swing. Give me the excuse.”

    (At this point it apparently dawns on the teen that’s he’s in way over his head and his attempt at intimidation has failed miserably. The cashier seems quite willing to make an example of him.)

    Drunk teen: “Uh… uh… I’m… I’m gonna hurt you man!”

    Cashier: *icily, dangerously calm* “No. You’re going to apologise to the customers for annoying them, you’re going to apologise to me for annoying me, and then you’re going to leave, very quickly, before I put my size 14s so far up your arse your kids are born with tread-marks on their faces, so help me God.”

    (The drunk teen starts to stammer out something, but is interrupted.)

    Cashier: *in a very convincing and menacing Bale-Batman voice* “Get the f*** out of here. Now!”

    (The teen flees at his top speed, bumping into and tripping over everything in his path. We all give the cashier a huge round of applause, and an elderly couple high-fived him!)

    In A Tsary State, Part 2

    | Boston, MA, USA | Language & Words

    (A group of three Russian 20-somethings comes in; they’re unaware that I also speak Russian. Note: state law in Massachusetts says I have to card everyone in a group in order to sell them alcohol.)

    Me: “May I see your IDs?”

    (Two give me their IDs, but one doesn’t have it on him.)

    Customer: “He’s not drinking.”

    Me: “I’m sorry, but I need his ID anyway. State law: I have to card the whole group.”

    Customer: “But he’s not drinking.”

    Me: “If you don’t all have IDs, I can’t sell this to you. Sorry, guys.”

    (The man without his ID goes to their car to get it. He returns, I check it, and proceed to run the credit card through, but the customer is clearly upset by this minor inconvenience. I print out the receipt and the customer signs the store copy.)

    Customer: *in Russian* “Here you go, b****.”

    Me: *also in Russian* “Thank you! Bye bye, now!”

    (I have never seen anyone leave the store that quickly before in my life!)

    Related:
    In A Tsary State

    The Faux-teen Of Youth

    | Queensland, Australia | Criminal/Illegal, Food & Drink, Liars & Scammers, Underaged

    (Working in a liquor store one night, a male who looks about 16 enters the store. Please note: this happened in 2009.)

    Customer: *places beers on the counter* “Hi, I’ll just have these, thanks, and a bottle of rum.”

    Me: “Uh, sure mate. I’ll need to see some ID first.”

    (The customer produces ID, and it looks real—his photo on it, holograms where they should be—but one thing stands out: his DOB says he was born in 1929.)

    Me: “So. 1929 huh? You sure don’t look 80 to me.”

    Customer: “I’m over 18 though, aren’t I?”

    Me: “I think you better get out of my store before I call the cops, Gramps.”

    (The kid left the beer on the counter and ran off. He also left his ID, which I kept to show off to my friends. We all had a good laugh about it!)

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