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No ID, No Idea, Part 44

, , , , , | Right | May 31, 2021

Several years ago, cashiers at the store I worked at had to check signatures on credit cards and have customers sign receipts. If the card wasn’t signed, we had to check ID. If ID didn’t match, we couldn’t accept the card. One night, a lovely woman was trying to purchase around $500 worth of luxury clothing and then tried to pay with a credit card.

Me: “All right, ma’am, since the card isn’t signed, I just have to check it against your ID, please.”

Customer: “Oh, it’s actually my husband’s card; I use it here all the time.”

Me: “Okay, so the names will not match. Per store policy, we cannot accept this card unless he comes in with his ID. Would you like to use another form of payment? Or I can put this on hold if you’d like to call him in?”

Customer: “Excuse me?!”

Me: “Our store policy is that credit cards must be signed or we have to match the customer’s ID to the card. Since the card is unsigned and your ID will not match, I am not allowed to take this card.”

Customer: “We have the same last name! I use it here all the time!”

Me: “Smith is the most common last name in the United States, ma’am. That doesn’t mean anything. Regardless, the first names do not match. I am unable to accept this card. If other cashiers allowed you to use it in the past, they were not following our policy. I could be fired for doing so on such a large purchase.”

Customer: “I demand to speak to your manager!”

I page our manager and she comes over. The lady tries to say some nonsense about how I’m awful at my job and how outraged she is, but I just hold up the unsigned credit card and her (non-matching) ID.

Manager: “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but our policy states that we cannot accept this card as payment. Do you have another card you would like to use today?”

Customer: “This is unacceptable! You both decided to publicly humiliate me by refusing to accept my completely valid card! You can keep all this crap because I’m never shopping here again! I used to spend thousands of my hard-earned money here every year!”

As she is screaming at us, she snatched her cards out of my hands and throws them in her purse. Then, she shoves all of her purchases across my counter and onto the floor. Even though I know better, I reply…

Me: “Well… technically it wasn’t your money.”

The lady roar-screams at me like a wild animal and stomps out of the store. My manager smacks me across the back of my head with her paperwork — which is totally fine; we have that sort of work relationship — when the lady is finally gone.

Manager: “You handled that correctly, but next time, keep your smarta** comments to yourself.”

Worth it.

Related:
No ID, No Idea, Part 43
No ID, No Idea, Part 42
No ID, No Idea, Part 41
No ID, No Idea, Part 40
No ID, No Idea, Part 39

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