Unfiltered Story #219141

, , | Unfiltered | December 26, 2020

I’m a team leader at a hardware store. The other day there was a cashier call for carts. The store manager and I both responded and met each other up near the entrance. We had barely set foot outside when an SUV pulls up and parks right in the middle of the drive. An obese man with an expression like he’d been sucking lemons clambered to get out, walked to the rear of the vehicle, and stopped. He stared at us. I was the first one to speak:

Me: Hello sir, what can we do for you?

Customer: (garble garble) PLAY SAND (garble garble)!!

Me: I’m sorry?

Customer: PLAY SAND! WHERE THE FUCK IS IT?

Me: Oh…kay, yes. It’s right down at the end of that island (meaning the oval-shaped concrete structures filled with rocks in our parking lot, atop which several pallets of bulk rocks, sand, and wood chips are sitting) one pallet past the pea gravel.

Customer: ONE OF YOU GOTTA LOAD IT! (yelling) The store manager and I exchange confused glances, both clueless as to why we’re getting yelled at by someone we’ve never met before.

Me: Absolutely. If you’ll just pull down by the pallet I’ll meet you over there.

Customer: (waddling back around and wrenching his door open furiously) FUCKIN’ ASSHOLES! (slams door and tries as hard as he can for a tire-burning grand exit. Unfortunately for him, the best his SUV would do was lean back, groan, and creep away about as fast as a person can walk).

Although I felt my temper rising, I had to laugh at the situation. The store manager turned to me: I’ve been in this business for 35 years. I’ve been called a lot of things in that time, but I have to admit this is the first time I’ve been referred to as a ‘fuckin’ asshole over sandbox sand.