Unfiltered Story #212911

This story takes place a few years ago when I worked at a bookstore that has since gone under. The Christmas rush is out the door and every associate we have available to man the registers is there. I’m at the end of the row of registers and ringing people out when I notice my coworker is trying to tell a customer that she cannot get money back on a prepaid visa card and she doesn’t seem to understand this concept so I offer to take over the transaction for him since I’m good at handling difficult customers and ask him to keep ringing people through. Note the customer is Caucasian and I’m African American.

Customer: Thank God! Finally someone who knows what they’re doing is coming over here to help me. I don’t know what his problem is, probably ain’t getting anything from his girlfriend lately.

I decided to ignore her remarks and try to work with her to get her in and out as fast as possible.

Me: Hi! I understand you’re trying to get money back on your prepaid visa card, as my coworker has said we have no way of doing that. Even though we can’t give you money back on it you can still make your purchases with it here.

Customer: You don’t know what you’re talking about! I’ve done it here before and I know you can do it!

Me: Ma’am I can assure you that it’s never been done here before since our registers don’t have the capability to do anything other then ring your purchases out with these type of cards.

The same argument goes back and forth between us like it did with my coworker and I realize that I’m not going to get her out of her unless I try another tactic. I hold up her card and point to the logo on it.

Me: The prepaid card you have is through *Name of bank* and there is one of those down the street, perhaps if you go down there and try to get a refund with them they might be able to help you better than we can.

After I say this the customer goes quiet but I can see her face turn several shades of red and then purple and at this point she literally explodes.

Customer: You won’t help me because I’m a N*gg*r! *Bookstore* doesn’t help N*gg*rs is that it?

At this moment everything in the bookstore just stops and you can hear a pin drop. The customer turns towards the other people in line and repeats her rant.

Customer: They don’t server N*gg*rs here, this woman won’t help me because I’m a f*cking N*gg*r!

At this point I’m done being nice and I tell her to leave or I’m going to call the police. She snatches her card back, leaves her book on the counter and leaves all the while yelling that *bookstore* doesn’t serve N*gg*rs. I brush her off and go back to trying to ring customers again so we can get through the rush that seems to almost have doubled.

Next Customer: I’m so sorry she said that to you! We’re not like that here in Vermont, can I give you a hug?

Me: Umm sure… but you do know she wasn’t calling me one right?

After that I got many hugs and sympathetic reassurances that is not how Vermonters really are.

Me to coworker: They do know she wasn’t calling me one right?

Coworker: *Flabbergasted and at a loss for words* Yep…

A few weeks later the same customer comes back in and approaches me while I’m working on the floor.

Me: ….

Customer: *Instantly bursts into tears* I’m so sorry about what happened before, please don’t ban me from the store! I wasn’t calling you one! I was calling myself one! Don’t ban me please!

Me: …

The customer leans against me crying her eyes out, passing customers are staring at us as I awkwardly pat her back and tell her she won’t be banned as long as she doesn’t cause another scene like she did before.

Customer: *Repeats* I wasn’t calling you one…I was calling myself one…

Coworker from before: …yep.