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Unfiltered Story #178368

, , , | Unfiltered | November 26, 2019

(There is a woman who periodically and we all dread to see. She is foreign with an unknown accent and although she is fluent, she seems to have trouble understanding us. She always manages to catch the same employees somehow. One girl has seen her every time. The first time started out normally.)
Customer: “Where is the marmalade?”
Coworker: “On this shelf over here.”
(After a while, the woman caught my coworker.)
Customer: “Where are the strawberry preserves?”
Coworker: *checks the only shelf they would be on* “It doesn’t seem like we carry strawberry preserves from that brand. I’m so sorry. We also have these strawberry preserves or these strawberry-rhubarb preserves.”
Customer: “I want just strawberry! And I like this brand. You have to check. You have to ask someone about it!”
(My coworker was very surprised by this outburst but fetched a manager. They confirmed that we did not have them, but the customer still threw a fit. A few months later, she came again and the entire process repeated, including the bit about calling the manager.)
Customer: “When will you have more?”
Manager: “I believe the strawberry preserves from that brand have been discontinued, so we will never have them again.”
(The third time that this woman came to the store, she once again asked about these specific strawberry preserves. Once again, my coworker explained with the aid of a manager that that flavor no longer existed with that brand. She would have to choose something else. She refused, and picked some other items before coming to my register. I knew nothing about anything that had been happening with my coworkers. I did, however, know that this woman was problematic. I had seen her once before and she had been very difficult and rushed me. Still, I tried my best to be polite.)
Me: “Did you find everything okay?”
Customer: *sadly* “No, actually. I have been coming here for months and you still do not have the strawberry preserves I want.”
Me: *sad for her* “I’m so sorry.”
(I rang up the woman’s two bags of cookies and one other thing that were about $8 altogether. She typed in her member information very slowly and I told her the total.)
Customer: “I though the cookies were on sale.”
Me: *checking the prices* “Yup, they were originally $2.99 and are now $2.69.”
Customer: “I thought they were $2.49.”
Me: “Oh… Was there a sign with them that said that?”
Customer: “Yes.”
Me: “Would you mind showing me the sign?”
Customer: *huffy* “Fine, but you should know.”
(For the record, our store is so big and so varied in its products that no one really knows everything that we have or every single sale, but I held my tongue, called another cashier, and followed the woman. The cookies turned out to be all the way in the back and we found the sale sign.)
Me: “$2.69.”
(The woman stared at it for a solid 30 seconds as though she was waiting for it to change, but eventually gave in and apologized for being a bother. We walked back to the front of the store to finish the transaction. She decided to pay with a check. We do accept checks, but we have to see a valid driver’s license and write down the license number and the driver’s date of birth on the check. This is just in case something goes wrong with the check. Most people have no problem with this. They are just happy that we accept checks at all.)
Me: “May I see your driver’s license please?”
Customer: *huffy, taking out wallet* “You must have a lot of trouble here if you need all this information from everyone.”
(I largely ignore her comments since I just want to get this written down so that I can submit the check and get her away from me. Unfortunately, she did not take her license out of her wallet and I cannot see the date of birth. I decide to just ask, since that’s faster.)
Me: “My I have your birthday please?”
Customer: “My birthday? You already have another information! You my phone number and my driver’s license here! I am about to just walk out of here without this stuff!”
(Alarmed by this outburst, I try to stay calm.)
Me: “Ma’am, your wallet is covering your license and date of birth.”
(Exasperated, she pulls the license out and I scribble down the birthday, then I submit the check and get the receipt. She holds the bag open and I drop the receipt inside.)
Me: “Have a nice night.”
Customer: *smiling* “You too!”

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