A Hot Slice Of Justice, Part 5

, , , , | Right | May 26, 2020

A customer is trying to stack up multiple coupons, even though they all say clearly “one per purchase.” He has escalated his complaint all the way up to the owner of the franchise, who has told him the exact same thing as all the other members of staff before him.

Customer: “I know my rights! You legally have to accept these coupons!”

Owner: “Sir, I—”

Customer: “I am friends with the district attorney! You can’t afford to mess with me!”

Owner: “Sir, you can’t even afford a pizza.”

The customer huffed, but finally gave up and stormed out, throwing the coupons all over the floor.

A Hot Slice Of Justice, Part 4
A Hot Slice Of Justice, Part 3
A Hot Slice Of Justice, Part 2

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Hopefully, These Policies Outlive The Crisis

, , , , , | Right | May 26, 2020

Our management has put three signs up on the store’s front window as a result of the recent health situation. The first one shows our new hours, 8:00 am to 8:00 pm, rather than our usual 7:00 am to 12:00 am. The second one says that we are no longer allowing returns, refunds, or exchanges. The third one says not to enter the store if you have symptoms.

One morning, around 7:45 am, an angry-looking older woman starts pounding on the door. The manager tries to tell her we’re not open through the glass door, but she doesn’t go away. Finally, fifteen minutes later, he lets her in.

Customer: “What the h*** is wrong with you?! I’ve been waiting an hour to get in here!”

This is an absolute lie. The manager ignores it.

Manager: “I’m sorry, ma’am. Because of the outbreak, we’re opening at eight now. I couldn’t have let you in until just now.”

Customer: “That’s absurd! What kind of store is this?! If you’re going to change your hours, you should let people know!”

Manager: “We did let people know. There’s a sign right there with our new hours in very large lettering.”

Customer: “That’s just words on a paper; it doesn’t mean anything! Haven’t you ever heard of a teensy, tiny, little thing called, oh, I don’t know, customer service?!

My manager smiles like Jack Nicholson in “The Shining.”

Manager: “What can I help you with?”

Customer: “About d*** time!”

She holds up a plastic bag with our store’s logo on it.

Customer: “I bought this roast chicken yesterday and it was bad. I want to return it and get my money back.”

In the same tone, he tells her about our new hours and policies.

Manager: “I’m sorry, ma’am. Because of the outbreak, we are no longer doing returns or refunds.”

Customer:What?! How can you not be doing refunds?!”

Manager: “It’s unsafe to allow products that have been removed from the store back into the store in case they’ve been contaminated.”

Customer: “You can’t do that! This chicken was bad and you’re supposed to give me back my money!”

Manager: “We can’t help you with that at this time.”

Customer: “You can’t just say you’re not giving refunds anymore if you don’t tell people!”

Manager: “There’s a sign on the door saying that we’re not doing it anymore.”

Customer: “F*** your signs, f*** your chicken, and f*** you!”

She turns around and stomps out of the store, lifting the chicken over her head and slamming it down onto the pavement in the parking lot on her way out.

Me: “If she didn’t read the first two signs, what are the odds she read the one about not coming in if you’re sick?”

Manager: “We are all going to die.”

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Didn’t Pick Up The Name At The Pickup

, , , , | Right | May 26, 2020

My store offers curbside pickup for groceries. The customers have to tell us their names through the call box before we bring their groceries out. I get a call for a delivery.

Me: “Hi, can I get the last name for pickup?”

The customer is garbled because his loud truck is running, but I’m able to hear the ending.

There are two names with that specific ending at this point. However, I just spoke to one of these two customers and she said she was on her way over. For our purposes, let’s say the two names are Johnson and Williamson.

Me: “Was that Williamson?”

Customer: “Yes.”

Me: “Okay, I’ll be right out.”

I grab the groceries and the card reader and head out to meet the customer. Every single bag has the customer’s name clearly labeled in large, bolded, capital letters. By the time I get out to the car, pushing out the cart of groceries, the customer has turned the truck off and is waiting outside the vehicle for me.

Me: “Hi, Mr. Williamson?”

Customer: “Yes.”

Me: “Okay, your total is $226.52.”

Customer: “All right.”

He hands me a credit card.

Customer: “Can I start loading?”

I notice the name on credit card.

Me: “Um, wait. Are you picking up for Williamson or Johnson?”

Customer: “Johnson.”

The customer notices Williamson on the tags finally.

Customer: “Wait, are there two Johnsons?”

Me: “No, there’s not. I thought you said Williamson, so I grabbed that order. I’ll be right back with your order.”

I get that maybe he couldn’t hear me over the truck the first time I asked, but the truck was off the second time I asked. How unobservant are you that you don’t notice your last name suddenly has, like, five extra letters and an extra syllable, and starts with a different letter of the alphabet? Especially after you look at it?

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How Powerful Was That Vacuum?

, , , , | Right | May 26, 2020

A woman returned two miniskirts in a vacuum bag — like the kind that goes on a vacuum! The only way to open it was with scissors. She did have the receipt and the clothes were in mint condition. She didn’t speak a word of her choice of bag throughout the transaction. 

How did she get them in there?

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If You’re Entitled To Egg Salad, You’re Entitled To Everything

, , , , , | Right | May 26, 2020

I have recently been transferred to the prepared foods department. The regular featured in this story is one of those self-entitled types who wants what she wants NOW, and woe to the poor soul who crosses her.

My store is located in a fairly affluent area and it’s the day after Memorial Day. I’m pulling the salad bar, glancing at the counter every few seconds to check for customers.

Me: “Well, hi there! How can I help you this evening?”

Regular: *Snooty, condescending tone* “Where is your baked fish?”

She waves at the hot bar, which is void of all food.

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but my coworker just pulled everything. As per company policy and regulations from the health department, we are required to pull the food at night and throw it away to maintain proper food safety. We will have fresh fish out tomorrow, though!”

Regular: *Clearly pissed* “I rushed over here because of that fish! I thought you were open until nine.”

Me: “We close up shop at 9:00 pm so we can thoroughly clean our kitchen and workspaces, but as per policies, rules, and regulations, my coworker and I are required to pull all food at 8:00 every evening and throw the hot food away.”

The regular scoffs, glares at me, then walks away. I think that is the end of it, so I go back to pulling the salad bar. I’m almost done when a buddy from the deli calls over to tell me I have a customer.

I turn around, and lo and behold, it’s the regular. I duck into the back to look for my coworker, but as he is nowhere in sight, I sigh, resign myself to my fate, and head out there.

Me: *Disgustingly fake cheerful* “Yes, ma’am, what can I help you with tonight?”

She makes a face that is full of disgust, as if she is saying, “Ugh, you again?!”

Regular: “I want two pounds of egg salad.”

We have been out of egg salad for a couple of days at this point, so I brace myself for the backlash.

Me: “I’m very sorry, ma’am, but we have been out of egg salad for a couple of days now. Like I’ve told my other customers today, I will leave a note with my team leaders and hopefully it will be on our next truck in a few days.”

She smiles, though more from anger and disbelief than from gratuity.

Regular: “This store never has anything. They can’t do anything right around here!”

I put on my best poker face and tuned her out. She finally walked away, talking loudly about how everyone in the store was an idiot, and went round to the front of the stores.

I finished pulling the salad bar and caught her trying to sneak back through produce, watching me the entire time. I guess she thought I was going to pull egg salad out of thin air, or someplace else if she was being that childish!

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