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    An Expensive Temper Tantrum, Part 2

    | Nashville, TN, USA |

    (Back story: I sold a woman four phones on a family plan for her and her 3 teenage daughters. She insisted that she be put on the 500 minute plan (the smallest family plan). I informed her that most teenagers can use 500 minutes in a week and begged her to take a larger plan.

    She refused and became quite angry and belligerent with me for suggesting “that her daughters were not responsible adults.” I noted on her account that she was advised of all overage charges and that there were to be no refunds on the account for overage charges. One month later she returns purple faced and on the verge of a stroke with her $3,200 phone bill.)

    Customer: “I need these charges taken off.”

    Me: “No, I explained the overage scale to you when you activated your phone, and begged you to take a larger plan. You insisted this was the one you needed and I cannot refund any of the charges.”

    Customer: “F**k you then, and f**k [cellular provider]. Cancel my account!”

    Me: “I’ll be happy to deactivate your phones but unfortunately that does not release you from your contract. There will be a $240.00 charge for each phone on the account for breaking your contract and you will still be responsible for the current charges.”

    (The customer suddenly throws her phone at my head. I duck and it smashes into the wall in a million pieces.)

    Customer: “F**K [cell phone provider]! F**K YOU, AND F**K ALL OF YOU A**HOLES TOO!”

    (Inexplicably, the last part was directed at the other customers waiting patiently for her to finish. She then proceeds to storm out to her car, a brand new Lexus SC 430. She redlines the engine, drops it into gear and hits a lamp post hard enough to shatter every piece of glass in the car as well as almost tearing the front half of the car off.)

    Customer: *comes back in the store* “Can I use your phone?”

    Another Customer: “Karma’s a b**ch, ain’t it?”

    An Expensive Temper Tantrum

    Putting The Me In Blame

    | Hopewell Junction, NY, USA |

    (I rang up a customer and about ten minutes later, the woman comes back in, cuts in front of the rest of the line and begins yelling at me.)

    Customer: “You never gave me my credit card back! You stole it!”

    Me: “No, ma’am, I did not steal your credit card. I gave it back to you.”

    Customer: “No you didn’t! I know you stole it! I demand my credit card back!”

    (This goes on for ten minutes as I continue ringing up other customers, all of them staring at the insane woman screaming at me.)

    Customer: “I looked everywhere and I cannot find my credit card! I know you have it!”

    (She opens her wallet to show me that her credit card is missing. I spot the credit card in her wallet.)

    Me: “Is your credit card a light-blue visa?”

    Customer: “YES!”

    Me: “…It’s in your wallet, right there.”

    (She storms out with an attitude and doesn’t even apologize.)

    Mission: Impossible, Part 2

    | Richmond, KY, USA |

    (An elderly man comes into the store and buys two cigars, I place them in a bag and try to hand him his receipt.)

    Elderly Man: “I don’t want that.”

    Me: “Oh, okay. I’ll just throw it away for you.”

    Elderly Man: “Don’t do that I need it!”

    Me: “Here you are then.” *trying to hand it back*

    Elderly Man: “What am I suppose to do with it?!”

    Me: “You said that you needed it.”

    Elderly Man: “I do! But where in the hell am I suppose to put it!”

    Me: “Your wallet or your pocket, maybe?”

    Elderly Man: “It will get mixed up with everything else and I’ll have to dig it out and throw it away when I get home! I don’t want it!”

    Me: “So you want me to throw it away for you?”

    Elderly Man: “No, I need it to show my wife!”

    Me: *confused* “Do you want it in your bag?”

    Elderly Man: “Well that’s what it’s for, isn’t it–to carry things? What’s wrong with you trying to hand someone a receipt? Where the hell would they put it?!”

    (I placed his receipt in his bag and he left muttering about me. He became a regular after that, and never again did I hand him a receipt.)

    Mission: Impossible

    Oooh, A Different Top

    , | Corbin, KY, USA |

    (The company was running a coupon special for 20% off one item ONE COUPON PER PERSON. This one heavily made-up woman caused problems at every coupon sale I ever worked there and this time was no different. She made one purchase and then this happened.)

    Woman: “How many of these can I use?”

    Me: “It’s one per person, so no more today, but there is another coupon for tomorrow so you can come back and use one then.”

    Woman: “What if I send my husband in? Can he use one?”

    Me: “Yes ma’am. He is a different person so that’s fine.”

    Woman: “Well, how many can he use?”

    Me: “One. It’s one per person.”

    Woman: “What if I buy something else?”

    Me: “Well you can buy whatever you want, but you can’t use another coupon. It’s one person for the whole day, not one per transaction.”

    Woman: “What if I leave and come back in?”

    Me: “You’re still the same person.”

    Woman: “What do you mean? I’ll have left and come back.”

    Me: “Well our doors are not equipped to change your genetic make-up upon entry, so you would still be the same person.”

    (The woman stormed off, then returned 20 minutes later wearing a different top. For some reason she decided to come through my lane again. I refused to let her use it, so she screamed at me and my manager. Eventually she just wadded up the coupon, hit my manager in face with it, and ran off cursing…only to return the next morning and repeat the scenario.)

    A Bad Day To Be A Pair Of Jeans

    , | Corbin, KY, USA | Health & Body, Top, Wild & Unruly

    (It was about 5 minutes to closing on a Saturday night and we had maybe 5-6 employees working all female. A new bar had just opened next door, and a drunk man wandered in.)

    Drunk Man: “I need to buy some matches.”

    Me: “I’m sorry sir. We don’t sell matches–only clothes.”

    Drunk Man: “Well, then sell me a lighter. I need a cigarette.”

    Me: “I’m sorry, sir. We don’t sell lighters or matches, just clothes.”

    Drunk Man: “D*mn it, just give me one.”

    Me: “I don’t have one, sir, or trust me I would.”

    Drunk Man: “You lying b**ch! Give me a f**king match you b**ch!”

    Me: “Sir, you need to leave or I’m calling the police. We don’t have lighters or matches. I’m sorry, but I can’t help you.”

    Drunk Man: “I’ll get it myself!”

    (He storms off toward the men’s department. I call my co-worker in that department, then call the manager to give them a heads up. A few minutes later the man goes running out (empty handed) and my co-worker is racing after him. She grabs my phone and starts screaming over the intercom for our manager. I asked her what happened.)

    Coworker: “He pissed all over the Levis!”

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