Don’t Do The Crime If You’re In The Wrong Line

, , , , | Right | August 28, 2018

(I work at a popular grocery store chain. A young woman comes up to my ten-items-or-less checkout with a cart full of items.)

Me: *smiling* “I’m sorry, ma’am, but this is a ten-item-only line.”

(I point at the sign above my head, clearly saying, “TEN ITEMS OR LESS,” in huge letters.)

Customer #1: “Oh, come now, honey. It won’t be long, promise!”

(She smiles sweetly, and starts unloading things onto the checkout belt.)

Me: “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but this is more than ten items. Please use a different checkout.”

Customer #1: *kindly demeanor instantly drops* “WHY ARE YOU NOT LETTING ME CHECK OUT MY F****** ITEMS, B****?! I WILL GET THESE D*** ITEMS CHECKED OUT AT THIS D*** CHECKOUT!”

(She runs around the checkout booth and pushes me out of the way, slamming me into the wall, and grabbing the register.)

Customer #1: “TELL ME HOW TO USE THIS F****** REGISTER, NOW!”

(The entire store has gone silent. Everyone is staring at [Customer #1].)

Me: *holding my hurt arm* “Ma’am, I—”

Customer #1: “NO BUTS! TELL ME HOW TO USE THIS, OR I WILL GET YOUR MANAGER AND HAVE YOU FIRED!”

(My manager walks over, attracted by the commotion, and stops in shock.)

Manager: “WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?!”

Customer #1: *sweet as sugar again* “Oh, hello there! This cashier won’t let me check out my items, so I, of course, had to try and—”

(My manager has this look in her eye; we jokingly call it the “Death Glare.” You do not want to be on the receiving end. Needless to say, as my manager glares at this woman with the Death Glare, she seems to shrink and go white.)

Manager: *acid in her voice* “Are you trying to tell me that my cashier wouldn’t let you check out your…” *quick count* “…over twenty items in the ten-items-or-less line?

Customer #1: “I… yes…”

Manager: “And when she kindly refused you, you ran around the counter, shoved her out of the way into the wall, and tried to make her teach you how to check out your items?”

Customer #1: “I… I can move…” *tries to move out of the way, but my manager blocks her*

Manager: “No. You’re not going anywhere.” *to my coworker, standing there in shock* “Call the police.”

Customer #1: “N-NO! WAIT! PLEASE DON’T CALL THE COPS!” *breaks down in the fakest tears I have ever seen in my life* “I… I CAN’T GO TO JAIL!

Coworker: “The police are on their way.”

Manager: “Good.”

(Five minutes later, two police officers walk through the door. [Customer #1] immediately stops fake crying, and loses what little color she had regained.)

Customer #1: “NOOOOOO!”

(She shoves my manager out of the way, tries to make a mad dash for the door, but the police officers catch her and take her away, still screaming.)

Customer #1: “I’LL SUE YOU! YOU CAN’T DO THIS! YOU CAN’T DO THIS TO MEEEEEEE!”

(The customers start moving again. [Customer #2] comes up to my line. I am shaking.)

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, I need a moment.”

Customer #2: “That’s fine. I cannot believe someone would freak out like that. Are you okay?”

Me: “Yeah, just a little… shaken up.”

Manager: “Well, I commend you for keeping your cool and staying polite even as that happened.” *grins, pats me on the shoulder, and returns to work*

(I check out [Customer #2], who smiles at me and leaves. My coworker turns to me.)

Coworker: “Did that just happen?”

Me: “Yeah. We’ve got the cart of stuff to prove it!”

(That was the last I heard of [Customer #1].)

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