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Named And Shamed

, | Sandy, UT, USA | Right | September 23, 2013

(My debit card has just gone missing. I think I left it at the gas station after I got gas earlier, and now I’m at work. My name is a European variation of a common American name, and though spelled similarly, is quite different. For example, Kristen versus Kirsten. As such, when people read my name, they often use the American version. One of my coworkers calls me over using my nickname.)

Coworker: “Hey, can you come here a moment?”

Me: “Sure, what’s up?”

Coworker: “This guy’s trying to use his girlfriend’s card.”

(The customer slides a credit card over that looks familiar.)

Me: “Uhm, can I see your ID?”

Customer: “It’s my girlfriend’s card; she’s out in the car. I can go get her.”

Me: “What’s her name?”

Customer: “Kristen [Last-Name].”

Me: “Spell her first name.”

Customer: “Why?”

Me: “Please?”

Customer: *sighs* “K R I S T E N.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but she’s going to have to come in and authorize the purchase. I’ll keep the card in the back office until you get back.”

Customer: “Give me the card, you b****!”

Me: “I can’t do that when I know this card is stolen.”

Customer: “It’s not stolen, c***! That’s my girlfriend’s card!”

Me: “No. This is my card. As you can see, my name tag is spelled correctly, and you spelled it wrong. Also, if you were my boyfriend, I’d break up with you just for not knowing what my name was.”

(I was very relieved to get my card back! Unfortunately, the customer had run up $300 worth of purchases, but luckily the restaurant I work at has a security camera, and we got his face on camera. I am later able to prove I didn’t make those purchases, so don’t have to pay for them!)

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Mom Is Bugging Out

| Monroe, CT, USA | Right | September 23, 2013

(My customer is a young high-school kid wearing a Pink Floyd t-shirt, hemp necklace, torn jeans, and sandals. He usually comes to my checkout line because I don’t give him a hard time when he buys a ton of munchies with very red eyes. This time he looks surprisingly sober.)

Me: “Evening, pal, how’s it going?”

Customer: “Ugh, not so great.”

(He proceeds to put 16 cans of bug spray on the counter.)

Me: “Yikes, got a bug problem?”

Customer: “No, but my mom thinks we do. She doesn’t realize she accidentally ate one of my, uh, you know, special cookies, and I have to play along so she doesn’t figure out it’s not real.”

(Years later, I returned to the area to find him wearing a suit and tie as store manager!)

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Honest About His Scam

| IL, USA | Right | September 23, 2013

(An eight-year-old boy has been pulling the same scam about three days a week for almost a month. He comes to the checkout with a few items and is always around $2 short. He freezes like a deer in headlights when asked if he would like to put an item back or go get more money. He’s gotten the act down so well, almost every time another customer feels bad for him and offers him the $2.)

Me: “Okay, the total is $12.12.”

Child: “I only have a $10.”

Me: “Do you want to put this back?” *holds up item* “It’s $2.19, so then you’d have enough.”

Child: “Ummmm. I don’t know. My mom needs it. She said to get these six things.”

Me: “You can go home and get the $2.12. I’ll hold these things here and you can come back to me and pay.”

Child: “Ummmm… I don’t…”

(Just then, a customer behind him speaks up.)

Customer: “I’ll give it to him.”

Me: “No. He does this all the time. We aren’t allowing other customers to pay anymore.”

Customer: “It’s just $2.”

Me: “Right, but he’s probably made $100 this month doing this same thing. We won’t allow any other customers to cover his groceries.” *turns to child* “You’ll need to go home and ask your mom what she wants you to do.”

(About 10 minutes later, the boy returns. I figure the boy has been pocketing the money, but it turns out he hasn’t.)

Child: “My mom said to get the money from another customer. She says they always give it to me, and why can’t I get someone to give it to me this time?”

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Chipping Away At A Translation

| USA | Right | September 23, 2013

(I am eating lunch in the lobby of my store, having a sandwich and a bag of chips, when a Spanish-speaking family walks in with a three-year-old boy. As they order, he walks a few feet over to me and points at my bag of chips. I don’t speak any Spanish.)

Little Boy: *pointing at my chips, saying something in Spanish*

Me: “Sorry, sweetie, these are mine. Maybe your mommy can get you some?”

(The little boy is pointing more furiously now, repeating a phrase I don’t understand.)

Me: “I’ll let you have some of mine if your mommy says it’s okay. I don’t want to give you anything you’re not allowed to have.”

(The little boy repeats the phrase again. This time, his teenage sister, standing in line, rushes over and pulls him away.)

Sister: “I’m so sorry!”

Me: “Oh, that’s okay! If it’s okay for him to have some he can—”

(By this point she has dragged the little boy to the other side of the store, where his parents are paying. I finish my break and go into the back to put away my purse and grab my apron. My Spanish-speaking coworker rushes over to me.)

Coworker: “Are you okay?”

Me: “Yeah, why?”

Coworker: “You didn’t hear what he was saying to you?”

Me: “I figured he wanted some of my chips.”

Coworker: “Yeah, then he started calling you a f****** a**-hole!”

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Although He Uses A Lot Of Ranch

| Syracuse, NY, USA | Right | September 23, 2013

(There is a customer coming through my line that is wearing cowboy clothing complete with 10-gallon hat, shiny belt buckle, and cowboy boots. There is another customer with a young boy standing behind them. I watch as the boy yanks on his mother’s skirt and points to the man in front.)

Young Boy: “Excuse me, sir; are you a REAL cowboy?”

Customer: *in a thick Texas drawl* “Why yes little man I am, but I only got to be a real cowboy because I ate all my vegetables and listened to my mother.”

(The customer then tips his hat to the mother and leaves. The boy does nothing but gush about his cowboy experience.)

Young Boy: “Mom! Go get more vegetables!”

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