A Stamp Of Disapproval

(I work for a very large pharmacy/convenience store that has a very specific return policy. If it’s an item of our brand, it can be returned no matter what: empty, destroyed, no receipt, anything. However, it’s returned and you’re given a ”money card,” which can be used on anything in-store except for prescriptions and cigarettes. A woman from the neighborhood knows this and this occurs almost daily. Today is my last day working.)

Me: *currently restocking the candy in front of my till when I hear a loud cough and see the customer standing three spaces away waiting* “Ma’am, may I help you?”

Lady: “About f****** time. I have a return. I demand you help me now!”

Me: *I walk back to my till, grabbing her items on the way, and start the return by scanning her receipt, noting that she paid with food stamps for her purchase* “Okay, this shouldn’t be an issue. Do you have the food stamp card used? I just need to scan it to reimburse you.”

Lady: “It’s not a food stamp card, you assumptive piece of s***! It’s just for us folks who don’t have a rich daddy to pay for s***. And no, I don’t have it with me.”

(She proceeds to grab the receipt from me.)

Lady: “Just give me one of those d*** cards, okay? God, you take forever.”

(I cancel out the return and begin a return without receipt, which requires my manager to okay that I am activating the card.)

Me: “Okay, this should be just fine; just give me one moment to get my manager to activate the card.”

Lady: “Of course. Hurry up; I don’t have all day, Princess.”

(At this point, I’ve had to deal with her so many times that I am almost joyfully taking my time. I knock on my manager’s office and let him know who it is and what’s going on.)

Manager: “Ma’am, this will just take me a quick moment. Can I ask why you’re returning this?”

Lady: “It’s f****** disgusting. All your products are. Just give me my card finally.”

(My manager tells her how to use the card and gives it to her with a printed balance.)

Lady: “I’m just going to use it now, you f****** idiot. Princess, can you finally get off your fat a** and get me a carton of [Cigarette Brand] and two lighters?”

Manager: “Ma’am, I have already told you that you cannot buy cigarettes with this card.”

Lady: “I don’t care! Bad enough you can’t give me my money back. Let me get my f****** cigarettes.”

(At this point, I’m completely shocked. Usually, telling her gets her to go to a different store.)

Manager: *speaking to me* “Did her original receipt show food stamps again?”

Lady: “THEY ARE NOT STAMPS!”

Me: “Yes.”

(At this point, my manager asks for the card so he can “fix the issue” and hands it to me.)

Manager: “Can you please dispose of this for me? As for you, ma’am, I demand you leave. This is the fifth time you’ve tried to get cigarettes with food stamps and I cannot take this.”

Lady: *completely irate* “No! I demand my god-d*** f****** cigarettes, you f****** c***!”

(Knowing this is my last day, I look at her completely stone faced and snap the card in half.)

Me: “You need to leave. Now.”

(She later came back that day with a police officer, claiming that we stole from her. My manager took the officer into the room, explained the situation, and showed him both the returned product and the snapped card. She was arrested for food stamp fraud.)

Manager: “You can go home early today. When you’re at college, do something not to end up here.”