An Old Hack And A Credit Card Hack

| Huntsville, AL, USA | Right | December 16, 2013

(A customer approaches one of my coworkers.)

Coworker: “Hi! Welcome to [Pizza Place]. How may I help you?”

Customer: “I need to speak with your manager. NOW.”

(Being the manager, I step in.)

Me: “Hi. I’m the manager. How may I help you?”

Customer: “YOU’RE the manager? How old are you? 12?”

Me: “I’m 24, sir. How may I help you?”

Customer: *sighs very loudly* “I have a problem. I think my daughter’s credit card was hacked or something. A charge that she doesn’t recognize showed up on the bill. This is the address that showed up for the charge.”

Me: “The address here actually covers the entire strip mall, sir; not just this store. We have a suite number. The name of the pizza place always shows up on our credit card charges.”

Customer: “My daughter and her mother are going to other stores to ask them about the charge. It would really help me if I could make sure the charge didn’t come from your store.”

Me: “I’d be happy to try to help you, sir. Can you give me the date and amount for the charge?”

Customer: “Sure. It’s [date and amount].”

Me: “I’m afraid I don’t have any orders from that day that are for that amount.”

Customer: “Whoever stole her card number probably left a tip or something.”

Me: “Sir, we add the tip to the order in the system so we can give cash to our drivers at the end of the night. The total should match exactly.”

Customer: “Maybe you didn’t add it or something!”

Me: “Okay. If you’ll give me the last four digits of your daughter’s card number, I can check the batch report.”

Customer: “I don’t feel comfortable doing that. Can I just see the batch report so I can check for her card number?”

Me: “I’m afraid I can’t do that, sir. There are other credit card numbers in that batch report.”

Customer: “So? It’s not like I’m going to steal the card numbers or anything.”

Me: “I’m sure you wouldn’t, sir. But I still can’t show you the report. Since you won’t give me the last four digits of your daughter’s card number, I don’t think I can help you. I suggest you call the company that issued the credit card to dispute the charge. They should be able to remove it and issue your daughter a new card.”

Customer: “NO! I DEMAND TO SEE YOUR BATCH REPORT RIGHT NOW! MY DAUGHTER’S CARD WAS HACKED. I HAVE A RIGHT TO FIND OUT WHAT HAPPENED!”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir. I can’t help you. You need to leave, please.”

Customer: “F*** YOU, B****!”

(The customer leaves after flipping me off. I call the cops. They find him screaming at another manager in a store several doors down. Ironically, it turns out the guy had several outstanding warrants for identity theft and credit card fraud!)

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The Race Card Is Double Sided

| Mobile, AL, USA | Right | December 16, 2013

(My husband and I are new to the area. We are trying out a popular fried chicken restaurant that is on a side of town primarily occupied by black people. I am white, and my husband is Mexican.)

Me: “This chicken is great!”

Husband: “Yeah, but it’d be better with some hot sauce! I’ll go get some!”

(I slide out of the booth we are in to let him out. As I step back I accidentally bump another patron who is walking back up front to refill his drink. He drops his cup.)

Me: “Oops! I’m sorry!”

Customer: *glaring at me* “What’s wrong with you? You in the wrong side of town. You think you can hit me just cuz I’m black?! Racist b****!”

(My husband is about to intervene, but I speak up.)

Me: “You think you can say that just because I’m white?”

Customer: *long pause* “…say what?”

Me: “You think you can claim I’m racist just because I’m white?”

Customer: “I… you… what?”

Me: “Seeing as how my husband is Mexican, I don’t think you can cry racism on this one, man. Nice try.”

(I pick up his cup and get a whiff of what he was drinking.)

Me: “What were you drinking? Sprite?”

Customer: “…yeah.”

(I go refill his drink for him and hand it back to him with a smile on my face.)

Me: “There ya go.”

Customer: “You pretty nice, for a cracker.”

Me: “You’re pretty nice, for someone so ignorant. Racism works both ways, man. Don’t let it—”

Customer: “—yeah. Okay. Sorry.”

(Thankfully, my husband and I finish our meals without any more interruptions.)

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Es-pwñ-ol, Part 2

| San Diego, CA, USA | Right | December 16, 2013

(My coworker is Mexican, but has very fair skin. Our store has more than 60,000 item numbers. While the employees who work in certain sections know the products and the numbers in their area, cashiers have to look the numbers up in the computer.)

Customer: “Hi. I was wondering what the price on this item is.”

Coworker: “Of course. Let me just look up the number for you.”

Customer: *to her friend in Spanish* “Can you believe this dumb b****? Can’t even tell me the price for this stupid thing.”

Coworker: *in Spanish* “The price for that is [price]. Can I help you with anything else?”

(The customer turned white and quickly walked away!)

Related:
Es-pwñ-ol

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5 Stories of Returnaholics!

| Not Always Right | Right | December 15, 2013

Weekly Roundup: 5 Stories of Returnaholics! In this week’s roundup, we take a look at those customers who try and return anything and everything!

  1. Not Quite Getting What “Return” Means
    (2,256 thumbs up)
  2. Little Console-ation In This Situation
    (1,149 thumbs up)
  3. It’s What Grammy Would Have Wanted (1,452 thumbs up)
  4. Of All The Lies To Tell (6,363 thumbs up)
  5. Past The Point Of No Return (3,158 thumbs up)

PS #1: check out our Extras section, with pictures, videos, and news!

PS #2: Read more roundups here!

Shell Shocked

, | Rehoboth Beach, DE, USA | Right | December 15, 2013

(It is late at night, in the middle of summer. I’m working at the first window, taking orders as well as working the register. The customer I get sounds drunk, but I don’t think too much of it until he gets to the window. The customer is in the rear seat of the car; thankfully the driver is sober.)

Me: “Good evening. Your total is $[total].”

Customer: “Okay… so that’s… uh…”

(The customer stares at the money in his wallet for a moment before handing me a wad of bills.)

Me: “Alright. Here’s your change and your recei—”

(I turn to hand him his change, to see that he now has a large brown paper bag on his lap. He looks at me, then reaches in the bag and pulls out a crab covered in Old Bay seasoning.)

Customer: “D’you want a crab?”

Me: “Er… no thanks.”

Customer: “You sure? They’re really good!”

(The customer tries to hand me the crab anyways.)

Me: “I’m sorry. We’re not allowed to take… tips?”

Customer: “Aww… that sucks. Well, you have a nice night.”

Me: “Here’s your change. You have a good night, too!”

(My colleagues and I were all left wondering what he was doing getting fast food when he had something better!)

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