I’m scanning a customer’s groceries. It’s a sale weekend, and some items are coming in at weird, random percentages cheaper than the shelf price.

Customer: “Wait, stop! How much are those checking out at?!”

Me: “Uh, those are… they’re $6.67.”

Customer: “That’s awfully close to $6.66!”

Me: “Haha, I guess.”

Customer: “On the shelf, they were $7.67!”

Me: “Then I guess… It’s a good thing?!”

Customer: “How is it a good thing! It’s bringing me closer to The Devil! Change the price!”

Me: “Only a manager can do that, sir.”

Customer: “Then get one!”

I call my supervisor over, and the predicament is explained to him. I’m amazed he was able to keep a straight face.

Supervisor: “I’ll be happy to adjust them back to the shelf price for you, sir.”

He does so, and because the customer is buying five of the items, his total goes up by five dollars.

Customer: “Wait, stop! Why did it go up?”

Supervisor: “$6.67 to $7.67 is an increase of a dollar.”

Customer: *Squinting.* “Oh. Well… can you put it back?”

Supervisor: “And risk putting you into contact with The Devil? I wouldn’t dream of it, sir! Will that be cash or card?”

Customer: “…”

The customer pays and sullenly walks out. I’m not sure what price he was reading to get him so numerically confused, but I’m glad he survived his test of faith!

Related:
A Price For The Devil To Pay, Part 10
A Price For The Devil To Pay, Part 9
A Price For The Devil To Pay, Part 8
A Price For The Devil To Pay, Part 7
A Price For The Devil To Pay, Part 6

My girlfriend and I are both visibly trans, we also both often wear pride stuff, and I have some rainbow stickers on my car. We used to work at the gas station right by our house, so we know a ton of the locals from there, including most of the Domino’s drivers.

We were sitting on the porch when a car turned the corner, and as it passed our house, the driver leaned out the window and yelled “F*GS!” clear as day. I wish I had misheard him, but it was unmistakable.

I immediately jumped out of my seat and started screaming back:

Me: “Did you just call me a f*g, motherf***er?!”

He didn’t even look back towards us; he just ignored me. He pulled into the driveway two houses down and dropped off a pizza box. I was still yelling; he was still ignoring me. When he left, he went the opposite way so he wouldn’t have to pass us.

I was shaking with rage, so I took a few minutes to calm down, and we decided to go ask the neighbors about the guy. I didn’t know the lady who answered the door, but I’m friendly with her granddaughter. We apologized for interrupting their dinner and told her the driver had shouted homophobic slurs at us, and we wanted to know where they ordered from. Domino’s. Thanks!

Then we called Domino’s and said we just got a delivery to [Neighbors’ Address], and the driver was so nice, what was his name? Brandon? Great, tell him we said thank you!

Then I made an official complaint on the contact us form on the Domino’s website. I may have been a little dramatic about how this man obviously knows where I live and has made me feel unsafe at my own home.

Then I called the store back and asked for a manager. Told her what happened, and she got her boss on the line. They both sounded appropriately horrified and were very kind and apologetic. The big boss said Brandon was still out on a delivery, but that he would be reprimanded and sent home as soon as he returned. He assured me that he would be written up and suspended.

I think he handled it perfectly, and I was very grateful.

Me: “We order from you guys all the time, and we’ve never had an issue, and I’m sure you wouldn’t want your employees committing hate crimes on the clock.”

So, Brandon, enjoy your time off and watch your mouth!

Related:
A Hot Slice Of Justice, Part 13
A Hot Slice Of Justice, Part 12
A Hot Slice Of Justice, Part 11
A Hot Slice Of Justice, Part 10
A Hot Slice Of Justice, Part 9

A coworker working at the drive-thru window at our fast food place passes out. Our manager, who was awesome, calls an ambulance and shuts the place down. Normally, the manager would call 911 and then just try to keep the place working around the downed coworker (I’ve seen it happen), so that was refreshing.

What wasn’t refreshing was the customer who was at the window when my coworker collapsed.

Customer: “What happened? Where did she go? I want my food!”

Manager: “Ma’am, my employee has passed out. Please pull out front, and we will get to you when we can.”

Customer: “No, I’m in a rush! I want my food now! That’s why I came through the drive-through!”

Manager: “Ma’am, I will not be dealing with you right now. An ambulance is on the way, and we will be focusing on directing them to where they are needed. Please pull around, and we will get to you when the emergency is over if you’d like to wait.”

My manager closes the window and puts his focus on the downed coworker. Another coworker, who had been assigned to stand outside and wave in the ambulance, walks in.

Outdoor Coworker: “Uhm…”

Manager: “Is the ambulance here already?”

Outdoor Coworker: “No. That woman from before, she’s… kinda blocking the entrance to the parking lot.”

Manager: “What?!”

My manager runs outside to see that the woman has parked her car sideways along our parking lot entrance, the only way in or out for any vehicle onto our lot.

Customer: *Shouting from her car.* “You told me to pull around to the front, well, how’s this for front, motherf***er! No ambulance is getting past me until I get my chicken nuggets!”

All of us just pause for a moment. We’ve all been working here a while, so we’ve seen our fair share of customer entitlement, but this… this is on another level.

Manager: *To me.* “Call 911, and tell them to send a police car along with that ambulance.”

The cops came just before the ambulance and arrested her for trespassing and disrupting a medical emergency.

Apparently, she decided to call corporate to complain about the poor service after all that. Corporate said something along the lines of “Ma’am, an employee passed out. We are not giving you free anything.” 

I honestly don’t know how she wasn’t calling from prison.

Me: “Thank you for calling the [Store Name] online shopping assistance. How can I help you today?”

Caller: “You didn’t offer me a receipt!”

Me: “Did your receipt from your online order not get emailed to you?”

Caller: “I don’t know! All I know is that you didn’t offer me one! When I’m in your store in [City], there’s a sign at the checkouts that says if the cashier doesn’t offer me a receipt, my whole order is free. You didn’t offer me a receipt, so my order should be free!”

Me: “Sir… that only applies when you’re shopping in one of our physical stores. The staff there are trained to ensure every customer leaves with a receipt. For online orders, it’s different. The receipt is emailed to you after you’ve ordered.”

Caller: “But you didn’t offer me one!”

Me: “Sir… you got your receipt. We don’t need to offer you your receipt as you are 100% guaranteed to get your receipt through our online system.”

Caller: “But no cashier physically offered me a receipt, so my order is free!”

Me: “Sir… how would a cashier have physically offered you a receipt during an online order?”

Caller: “That’s not my problem to figure out! Your sign says that if the cashier doesn’t—”

Me: “—I know what the sign says, sir, but that only applies to the physical store.”

Caller: “Well, the sign doesn’t say that!”

Me: “It doesn’t have to, sir.”

Caller: “Why not?!”

Me: “Because most customers don’t assume we have cashiers physically existing on the internet waiting to hand receipts to customers ordering from their home computers.”

Caller: “I’m going to email your corporate office about this! This is very disappointing!” *Click.*

Manager: “What was that about?”

Me: “Some customer trying to get his $300 order for free because we can’t Tron one of our checkout clerks into his home.”

I am blind and have a guide dog. My husband and I go into a liquor store.

Clerk: “NO DOGS!”

Husband: “That’s her guide dog. She’s blind.”

Clerk: “No. Dogs.

Husband: “He’s literally the most commonly recognised service dog.”

Me: “He’s legally allowed in the store. Call your manager if you need to verify.”

We continue into the store while I hear the clerk paging a manager. The manager finds us and says:

Manager: “Ma’am, I’m sorry. That’s obviously a service dog. You are fine. I explained it to the clerk.”

Me: “That’s okay. Everyone needs to learn sometime.”

We find what we want and head for the cash register. Neither of us looks under fifty years old.

Clerk: “I can’t sell that to you.”

Husband: “Why?”

Clerk: “Because I need to see a license for everyone, and IF she is really blind, she doesn’t have one.”

Me: “No, but I do have a state ID. You can use that.”

Clerk: “It has to be a license.”

Husband: “Call your manager now.”

Clerk: “Nope. I’m refusing service.”

Another customer overhears this and finds the manager. He comes up, gets the explanation of the problem, and seems confused.

Manager: “Have you been refusing to sell to people with state IDs instead of licenses?”

Clerk: “Only a driver’s license is valid.”

Manager: “No, only state IDs or federal IDs are valid. Driving is not necessary, just being 21 or older.”

Clerk: “You are going to get me fined for not getting proper ID! I’m not selling to a blind woman who can’t drive.”

The manager took a moment to reboot his brain. Then he sent the clerk to take out the trash and took over the register. He assured me that there was going to be a lot of retraining in his future. As he’s bagging up our purchase, I hear him mumbling.

Manager: “I guess I should just be glad he didn’t insist the dog was underage and didn’t have a driver’s license.”