I worked in a thrift store when I was in college. We would get donations of old Barbie and Ken dolls all the time. They were usually in rough shape and missing clothes, so we would throw them in a bin and charge fifty cents a doll.

Customer: “Excuse me! It’s p*rnographic to put the male and female dolls in the same bin naked like that!”

I separated them into separate bins at the request of my boss. The customer came in the next day and saw the Ken pile.

Customer: “Well, that’s no good! Now it just looks like gay p*rn!”

I work at a secondhand store. We offer folks a discount based on how often they show up. They can even sell things to us for some spending money.

I have dealt with this customer before. He was generally pleasant on my first encounter with him, yet I know of horror stories from my girlfriend (who also works here) and the rest of the staff.

The customer comes up to the register after having sold some things to us, and he also has things to purchase.

Customer: “So, how would I go about finishing out this frequent shopper card today?”

He holds up a card with two spots missing to get a discount on his whole purchase. It normally isn’t an issue to help folks along if they’re really chill with us or are spending a lot of money as is.

Me: “Well, sir, it’s usually one stamp per customer per visit, but we can see what we might be able to do here.”

He doesn’t give me his payout slip to scan. He gives me two books to scan and kind of has a grin on his face.

Customer: “So, it’s ‘usually’ just the one stamp per visit? What if I do it in multiple transactions?”

Me: “As I said, it’s typically one stamp per visit. However, let me see how much we have here.”

It’s a minimum of $20 for a transaction to receive a stamp.

I ring up his first items and they total out to $19.06. I notify him that we have not yet cleared that threshold.

Me: “All right, sir. We’re not quite there yet. Would you like me to scan one of these other things in to get us where we need to be on the first transaction?”

Customer: “Well, hold on. What do you mean?”

Me: “Sir, this total is ninety-four cents short of receiving a stamp. If we were to add in one of these other items, I could give you a stamp, and then I can give you your final stamp to apply the discount on the next transaction.”

He proceeds to produce a $1 bill and place it with his first two things.

Customer: “All right, that should get us to $20.”

This is where things start to really take a turn for the bizarre.

Me: “I would still need to scan something else to get us over the threshold, and I would need a source of payment to pay for the rest of the total.”

[Customer] still insists on pointing out the $1 bill as being what gets him over $20. I explain that he isn’t buying a $1 bill from me and that I still need to know how he’s going to finish the transaction.

We go on like this for almost two minutes until I decide it may be best to just call our manager up.

[Manager] is always amazing at what he does, and therefore, I know I can at least get out from under this mess and growing line. (Thankfully, I am the second of two cashiers here right now.)

As soon as [Manager] gets to the register, [Customer] decides to switch his approach. [Manager] requests that I void out his two other items and do his payout. Easy. That gets done. Then, we get back to the $19.06 dilemma. [Manager] gives me the okay to stamp the card for his transaction, which [Customer] pays for with his credit card.

Then, he places three more items onto the counter for his second transaction, which all total over $20.

Customer: “All right, so what about a second stamp?”

Manager: “Sorry, sir. It is one stamp per customer per visit.”

Customer: “So, I wouldn’t be able to get this finished out and apply the discount today?”

Manager: “I can give you a second card, but we won’t be able to finish that one.”

[Customer] proceeded to pay for his second transaction with his credit card and produced a third stack of four items that totalled $42 and likewise paid with his card

[Manager] ended up giving him a coupon to use on a later visit as a peace offering for any confusion. [Customer] thanked us both for our patience, and I got to escape from the register for a while.

My girlfriend thinks he might have been playing dumb to get one over on us. However, this guy always comes across as that kind of dude that wants you to do things his way. Even when he sells stuff, we can never seek him out. He always tells us to let him browse and he’ll come to find us when he’s ready. The way I describe him there makes him sound like some mastermind, but really, he comes across as out of touch.

I am a “woman of size” volunteering as a greeter at my church’s thrift store. I am standing inside the glass front door in the middle of the storefront, which is basically a giant window. I am wearing a blue sweatshirt and blue jeans, which might explain what happened.

A woman comes in, sees me move to greet her, and is instantly startled. She says, and I quote:

Woman: “I saw you through the window, and I thought you were a stuffed figure.” 

Yes, she called me “stuffed” to my face. The diet starts tomorrow.

I work in a thrift store. It’s been raining, and the worthless drain in our parking lot is clogged or something. The parking lot is designed so that runoff would flow straight to our drain… and it has created a lake that rapidly grew into a moat that surrounds half the building.

The result is that it has pretty much entirely submerged our little drive-thru at the Donation Door. If the water gets a few inches deeper, it’s going to come right in through the doorway. We decide that it’s better just to close donations for the day.

I am in sneakers and very much unwilling to just wade across a lake. I put on my raincoat, exit out a door on the other side of the building, and pick my way along the high ground. After getting back to the donation door, I toss the chain across the standing water so my coworker can block off the entrance.

One chain is up, and a vehicle circles around and pulls in backward through the exit, rolling right through the waters. I have to climb the cement base of the support beam of our overhang to avoid the encroaching tsunami of water formed by her tires. Thank God she has to drive slowly enough that it doesn’t spray. It is deep enough that it is just brushing the undercarriage of her vehicle. Any deeper, and it would start spilling into the interior.

Woman: “Aren’t you taking donations today?!”

Coworker: “We’re closing up for the day, ma’am. In case you hadn’t noticed, our parking lot is flooding.”

Woman: “Then I got here just in time!”

WOMAN! Closing! Chain is up! Go away! I’m still perching on the cement base, keeping above the flood waters, scowling.

Coworker: “I can take a single bag of clothes, but as I said, we’re closing the door now.”

Woman: “But you’re not actually closed yet, and I have a lot to donate today.”

Coworker: “Well, one bag is all I’m taking. Take it or leave it.”

I wish he didn’t do that; I wish he’d refused.

But then, my coworker does something evil that makes me smirk and feel at least a little better about him giving in. He informs her that he’s not allowed to touch the vehicle, nor is he allowed to reach into her trunk and take the bag out. He can only take her ONE bag if she hands it to him.

In other words, if she wants to donate her clothes, she has to get out of the vehicle into shin-deep standing water, slosh her way around to the back, open her trunk, and get the bag of clothes out herself.

She huffs, puffs, and sputters, but he holds up his hands.

Coworker: “My hands are tied, miss. Those are rules set by the store manager. Liability, you know.”

Woman: “Well, if that’s how you’re going to be, then you should take all of my donations! It’s only fair!”

Coworker: “I can’t do that. We are now officially closed, and I already told you I can only take one bag. If you wanted to donate more, then you shouldn’t have come at the very end of the day, and you definitely should have come at a time when the parking lot isn’t flooded.”

Her defeated slump made my cold retail heart jump for joy. She obeyed, splashing through the water, gave him the bag, and then climbed back into her car, shoes streaming water. She took her sopping shoes off, dumped as much water out of them as she could, gave my coworker a black look, and slammed her car door closed.

My coworker dropped the entrance chain and sent her on her way. The waters of the moat surged against the cement base, and I waited for the water to settle down before climbing down and tossing the second chain across the waters to my coworker. I then traveled through the storm along the high ground to circle back to the door.

Seriously, lady, if a chain is up at the entrance, then that means we’re not taking any more. Don’t try to circumvent it and then argue when your options are less than stellar.

The secondhand store I work at has different coloured price tags on all the clothing. This is to help us cycle through clothes since each week a different colour tag is on special.

A lady approaches me with an item.

Lady: “Hi, I know the item says $5, but I only have $3. Can I have it for that?“

I see that the colour of the price tag is red.

Me: “Actually, anything with a red price tag is only $2 this week.“

Lady: *Pauses for a moment* “So, you can’t do it for $3?“

Related:
Sale Fail, Part 8
Sale Fail, Part 7
Sale Fail, Part 6
Sale Fail, Part 5
Sale Fail, Part 4