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    Low Class, High Class, Still An Ass

    | Toronto, ON, Canada |

    (A customer is sitting in front of a display, reading a book.)

    Coworker: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but you can’t sit in front of our displays.”

    Customer: “I have to sit here because the customers over there are sending me bad energy.”

    Coworker: “Uh, okay…”

    (Coworker walks over to me.)

    Coworker: “Your turn.”

    Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but you can’t sit in front of our displays.”

    Customer: “I’m not low class you know!”

    (I walk away stunned. After awhile, the customer finally gets up and walks toward the cashier.)

    Customer: “I have a complaint about two of your staff members. They called me low class. I’m not low class–I’m almost forty!”

    Caught Red-Handed

    | Colorado, USA | Top

    Guest: “I’d like to return this toaster.”

    Me: “Okay ma’am, do you have a receipt for the purchase dated within 90 days?”

    Guest: “No.”

    Me: “Okay, well you can’t return it then. However, if you have an ID you can exchange it for an item of equal or lesser value from the same department.”

    Guest: “But I don’t want to exchange it. I want my money.”

    Me: “Well, I’m sorry but if you don’t have a receipt, you can’t return the item.”

    Guest: “[Other store name] would take it back!”

    Another guest in line: “Excuse me, I work there and, no we wouldn’t!”

    …And You’re Still Drunk Now

    | ACT, Australia |

    Scary old lady: “You b*stards better give me a refund!”

    Me: “Er…okay. What seems to be the problem?”

    Scary old lady: “I was drunk when I bought this! GIVE ME A F&*^%NG REFUND!”

    Me: *blink blink*

    How Nicknames Are Born

    | Tampa, FL, USA |

    (An intensely inebriated individual entered our store with two women in tow, one pushing a baby carriage, wearing a jordan jersey, sunglasses, and sporting gold fronts.)


    Me: *falls over laughing*


    Women with him: “Shut up! Shut up! I’m sorry, he doesn’t–SHUT UP! ”

    Me: *rolls around with glee*


    (And from then on I am known as stinky hair.)

    I Goes To Skool

    | Baltimore, MD, USA | Top

    (A girl in her late teens approaches me holding a t-shirt, turning it over in her hands, apparently searching for defects or blemishes in the material.)

    Customer: “Do you have any of these that are new?”

    Me: “I’m sorry? They’re all new.”

    Customer: “No, this one is used. I want a new one.”

    (I take the shirt and inspect it, finding it to be in perfect order.)

    Me: “It looks perfectly fine to me. I unpacked these from today’s shipment an hour ago. We have multiples of each size if you’d like me to help you find another one.”

    Customer: “I checked them all. They’re all used, see…”

    (She snatches the shirt and points at the tag which reads, under the bar code, “USD $14.99″.)

    Me: “That’s the currency. United States Dollars.”

    Customer, becoming irate: “I can f**king see that. Fifteen dollars for a used shirt is f**king insane.”

    Me: “No. U-S-D. United States Dollars. We don’t sell used clothing.”

    Customer: “What are you, a f**king idiot? It says you do, right on the d**n tag.”

    Me: “My mistake. Here, I’ll take that and make sure it gets thrown away.”

    (I take the shirt and begin walking to the stock room.)

    Customer: “Can I just have it? You’re going to throw it out anyway.”

    Me: “Sorry, no. There’s an IQ requirement.”

    Customer: “A what?”

    Me: “It’s an acronym thing. Don’t worry about it.”

    Customer: “You’re a f**king a**hole!”

    (She storms out.)

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