Tearing Up The Economy

, , , , | | Right | June 10, 2019

(I’m a “key carrier” — low-level manager — at a farm store. I’m putting away stock and I receive a page to the registers. Our cashier has a customer who is trying to pay with a five-dollar bill that has been torn in half.)

Cashier: *to me* “Can we take this as payment?”

Me: *to customer* “I’m sorry, sir, but unfortunately, I can’t accept this as payment.”

Customer: “Why not? It’s American currency!”

Me: “Yes, but half of the bill is missing. I wouldn’t be able to use it as change for another customer. If you take this bill to your bank, however, they may be able to swap you for a new five-dollar note.”

Customer: “Well, that sounds like your problem! If it’s so easy, you should go do it yourself! I’m sure you guys make deposits every day; take care of it, then!”

Me: “Sir, I’m not sure what else to tell you, but I can’t accept half of a bill for the full value.”

Customer: “So, you won’t accept American currency! I’d like to speak to your manager!”

Me: “You are, sir. This has zero to do with its country of origin. It’s half of a bill. I’m sorry but there’s nothing else I can do for you.”

Customer: “There’s no reason I should have to take the hit for this. You can override this; I know you can. You just don’t want to. Just give me the number to your corporate office. I’ll explain to them why you just lost a customer over five dollars, and you’ll be out on your a**.”

Me: *irritated beyond the ability to keep my mouth shut* “Okay, tell you what. Give me that bill plus $2.50 and we’ll call it even.”

Customer: “…”

Some People Bring Themselves Down

, , , , , | | Right | June 10, 2019

(I work as a barista in a coffee shop. Every Tuesday and Thursday, we have a teenager come in and order the same drink: a half-and-half coffee. This customer has Down Syndrome. She is the sweetest person ever and all of the staff are extremely polite and enjoy her presence. It is Tuesday evening, around five pm. A woman yapping loudly on a cell phone strolls into the restaurant and proceeds to order. It all goes smoothly until she goes to collect her coffee and takes notice of the girl.)

Woman: “Oh, my God, a f****** [slur]! How do you let people like this in your shop?”

(I go speechless, having never met such an inconsiderate a**hole in my life, and simply stand there, stunned.)

Woman: “I mean, I can’t believe those crazy f*****s aren’t locked up in an asylum like they should be!”

(She is quite loud, and by now the whole cafe is dead silent and glaring at her with looks of pure disgust. The girl is visibly upset and tears are pouring down her cheeks. This woman continues her ranting when a middle-aged male customer approaches her.)

Male Customer: “Excuse me, ma’am. Your name doesn’t happen to be [Woman] does it?”

Woman: *looking annoyed* “Why, yes, it is. And exactly who the f*** are you?”

(The man smiles at her, but there is a fire behind his eyes.)

Male Customer: “My name is [Male Customer], and I’m the CEO of [Small Local Company]. If I recall, you just applied for a position at our office last week. In fact, I was just going over to the office to review your application, but now I see I won’t have to do that. Watching you be completely rude and undeniably terrible to that girl made my blood boil. I can say, with one-hundred-percent certainty, that you will never work for my company, ever. You’d be a major embarrassment to our image, and I can’t have that on my plate. Now, I recommend you apologize to that poor little girl and then get the f*** out of this coffee shop, because I don’t ever want to see your piece-of-s*** face again.”

(The woman’s jaw is on the floor. She mutters a quick apology and runs out of the store, not even bothering to pick up her coffee. The manager has come out of his office.)

Manager: “That was the greatest thing I’ve ever seen. Take an employee discount!”

(The teenage girl was given a free coffee and our store T-shirt!)

They Can’t Wrap Their Heads Around It

, , , , | | Right | June 10, 2019

(My store offers gift wrapping services. A few times a week, I have some version of this conversation:)

Customer: “I heard that you guys do gift wrapping.”

Me: “We do! What would you like wrapped?”

(The customer chooses paper, ribbon, etc., and prepares to pay.)

Me: “All right, it will take me probably about 15 to 20 minutes to wrap this, so if you want to continue shopping or get something to eat or drink and come back, that’s perfectly fine.”

Customer: “It will take that long?!”

(Then, I usually give some variation of “I’m the only one here, we’re busy right now, etc.” What I wish I could say: “Do you want me to make it look good, like you’re paying me to, or do you just want me to slap it together? If you were going to wrap this, how long would it take you?”)

He Just Levelled Down

, , , , , | | Right | June 10, 2019

(A customer comes up to my register with a game that’s priced at $40.)

Me: “All right, sir, your total is—“

Customer: “Hey, that game is supposed to be $20! Why is it ringing up for $40?!”

Me: “Well, sir, if you’d look at—“

Customer: “No, I don’t want excuses! I want you to fix it now!”

Me: “Sir, please, if you just look at—“

Customer: “Where is the game? That price tag said $20!”

Me: *shows game* “Actually, the game is labeled as $40, but—“

Customer: “You must have switched the games to show a higher price! I demand that—“

Me: “SIR! If you would look at the display, the game is showing up as $15! You are getting more of a discount than what you are asking for. If you are adamant about paying $20, then I would be happy to adjust the price. Do you want me to do that?”

(The man finally looks at the display. He goes quiet and his face goes red.)

Customer: *mumbling* “I’ll take the $15.”

(He was silent for the rest of the transaction, then snatched the bag and ran out.)

That Did Not Go Swimmingly

, , , , , | | Right | June 9, 2019

(I’m working in a small, high-end swimwear store. For reasons that I hope are obvious, we have a very strict “all sales final” policy on swimwear. Naturally, this policy doesn’t always go over well with our clientele, who are mostly middle-aged women with a lot of money and even more free time. On this particular day, the owner of the store is working in the office while I’m assisting customers. A woman in her 50s comes in with a plastic bag and makes a beeline for the register.)

Me: “Hello, how can I help you today?”

Customer: “I need to return this!”

(I cringe hearing the word “return,” but I take the bag from her and open it anyway. Sure enough, it’s a swimsuit, and one that we definitely have not sold in the six months that I’ve been with the company. The wrinkled tags and a crumpled, faded receipt are stapled to one of the straps.)

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, I can’t take this return.”

Customer: *instantly angry* “Why not?!”

Me: “We have a no-return policy on swimsuits; it says so right here on the receipt, and on signs throughout the store.”

Customer: “Well, surely you can make an exception. I never wore it so it’s as good as new, right?”

(I take the suit out of the bag and examine it more closely. Not only has it clearly been put through a washing machine at least once, but the leg holes and straps are badly stretched out.)

Me: “Ma’am, this has obviously been worn; see how the leg holes have been stretched?”

Customer: “Fine, I wore it, but only once for no more than an hour, and that’s how it looked after! You should give me my money back because it was badly made, definitely not worth the $200 I spent on it! It’s ugly, too. It looked nothing like it did in the advertisement here in the store!”

Me: “Again, ma’am, there’s really nothing I can do. We can’t accept returns on swimwear for sanitary reasons.”

Customer: “Well, how about this? I know the owner of this place, and I’m sure she wouldn’t be too happy to hear how you’re treating one of her oldest friends! I could have you fired, b****. What do you think of that?”

(At that moment, the owner leans out of the office behind me.)

Owner: “I think I’m not going to fire one of my most reliable employees for enforcing my policies. I also think that if you bought that suit expecting to look like the 20-something model in the advertisement in it, you’re a d*** fool and you deserve to be out $200; you didn’t even look like that when you were in your 20s!”

(The woman gapes at her for a moment before storming out, leaving the swimsuit behind. The owner picks it up, puts it back in the bag, and drops it in the trash before turning to me.)

Owner: “I’m sorry about her. I’ve known her since college and we’re still in the same social circles but we have never been friends. She was a stuck-up b**** then, and she’s a stuck-up b**** now.”

Me: “I can’t even begin to imagine how she thought that she was going to pass that off as new!”

Owner: “No doubt she was counting on you being as dumb as she is.”

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