Trying To Milk Some Tomorrow Out Of Today

| USA | Right | December 26, 2015

(The lady in line in front of me is making a complaint to a confused cashier. The lady is complaining about the milk her grandson got with his breakfast meal. Her husband is sitting at a table nearby with her grandson lying on top of the table holding his stomach and moaning.)

Lady: *slams the EMPTY milk bottle on the counter* “Do you people know how to read dates? This milk is expired and now my grandson is sick! This is your fault. If I have to take him to the ER, I’m sending the bill to you!”

Cashier: “I’m sorry, ma’am. You said the milk was expired? I checked it myself.”

Lady: “Well, you obviously don’t know what today’s date is then, idiot. Manager, now!”

Cashier: *literally running from the register* “Yes, ma’am!”

Lady: *turns to me* “These morons can’t get anything right. And they want $15 an hour!”

Manager: “What seems to be the problem?”

Lady: “That idiot gave my grandson expired milk. I demand all of my money back and I’m sending the ER bill here. It is obvious my grandson has food poisoning!”

Manager: *in a patient and calm tone* “Ma’am, what is today’s date?”

Lady: “You don’t know the date either? Morons leading morons! It is [today’s date].”

Manager: “And what’s the date on that milk?”

Lady: “It says [tomorrow’s date]. See, it is expired! It smelled bad and had chunks in it. My grandson is so sick. I demand my money back now. Hurry up so I can take him to the hospital.”

Manager: “Yeah, not going to happen. You don’t get to insult my cashier or me when you are the one that can’t figure out that tomorrow comes AFTER today. The milk doesn’t expire until tomorrow, meaning it is still good today. Your grandson drank all of it so it couldn’t have had a strange smell or texture. And your grandson is likely sick from the three doughnuts you let him eat in addition to the croissant and hash browns. Get out.”

(The lady is literally dragged out of the store by her husband who is also dragging their grandson by his coat.)

Me: “Wow. Some people just suck. Don’t worry, not everyone is an a**hole.”

(I dropped $1 in the tip jar immediately and was as kind as possible to the terrified cashier. When the manager handed me my meal, I found a note saying “Thanks for not being an a**-hole!” with an extra doughnut in the bag.)

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Returner Burner

, | USA | Right | December 26, 2015

(A customer walks up with some essential oils.)

Customer: “I have to return this; it’s been tampered with. You shouldn’t put this back on the shelf.”

Me: “Okay, would you like to just return it or would you like to exchange it?”

Customer: “I would like to exchange it.”

Me: “No problem! Just grab what you need and I’ll swap them for you!”

Customer: “NO. You need to grab it for me! I’ve had a very long day and I’m too tired for this!”

Me: “…Uh.”

(I remember that my coworker is behind the wall that we sort our returns, so I could leave to go grab it but if she wasn’t there then I wouldn’t have been able to.)

Me: “Sure…” *to coworker* “Hey [Coworker], I have to go grab something for a customer. I’ll be back in a second.”

(I run to go grab it and I’m quite perplexed by his attitude with me. Fortunately, one of my coworkers in that department helps me find it so I get back right away. I process his exchange.)

Customer: “Now, you better not put that one back on the shelf!”

Me: “Yep, and I double-checked to make sure that one wasn’t tampered with for you.”

Customer: “Thank you!” *leaves*

(One of my coworkers comes up to me.)

Coworker: “You should have just pretended like I wasn’t there. That’s what I would have done.”

Me: “I guess; I just didn’t want to make it more troublesome than he was making it out to be.”

Coworker: “I would have made it so awful for them. When people treat me like that, I purposely will make sure that the return will take much longer than it usually does. Such as, restarting the transaction over a few times.”

Me: “…I think, I’d rather just get them out of here as fast as possible so I don’t have to deal with them any longer.”

Coworker: “I’d rather stare them down and make them uncomfortable. I even do an overly happy/obnoxious voice just to make them mad.”

Experienced A Brush With A ‘Bah Humbug’

| USA | Right | December 26, 2015

(It’s two weeks before Christmas. I’m the second cashier today. I head up to my register and call over the next person in line. A woman and her friend come up. Note that earlier, one of my coworkers told me that some of the make up brushes need a new sign because the brushes went up in price. My coworker was going to try and print a new sign, but she couldn’t, so the wrong signs were left up.)

Me: “Hello! Did you find everything you were looking for today?”

Lady: “Yes.”

(I start to ring up her items, which included mostly make up brushes. As I’m ringing them up, the lady starts talking to me.)

Lady: “Those brushes with the two dollar tags, the sign said they were a dollar.”

Me: “Oh! I’m sorry about that. Those brushes went up in price. My coworker was trying to change the sign for them earlier but couldn’t. I’m not sure why she didn’t take the signs down for them.”

Lady: “Well, the sign says they’re for one dollar.”

Me: “Yes, but they went up in price. She was supposed to change the signs, but left the wrong ones…”

Lady: “Are you going to honor the sign or not?”

Me: *trying not to get angry* “Sure. If you’d like me to do that, I will.”

(I go to change the prices of the two make up brushes. However, if the price is changed by more than 20%, we have to get a manager to put in their number and password. I’m trying to do 50% off on the brushes, which means I need a manager. Unfortunately, there’s a problem…)

Me: “I’m really sorry, but I need a manager’s number to be able to do this. The main manager is on lunch right now—”

Lady: *interrupting me* “Then call her. She’ll come up. You have to honor the sign!”

(I look outside to see if the manager’s car is in the parking lot, meaning she’s probably in the store. But her car is gone.)

Me: “It looks like the manager isn’t in the store or the parking lot. Our other manager is way in the back, so he won’t be able to hear me if I…”

Lady: “Then go get him!”

Lady’s Friend: “Just forget about the make up brushes!”

Lady: “No. I’m making her do her job. She obviously doesn’t know what good customer service is.”

Me: *trying not to be hurt by her comments* “I’m going to go get the manager. I’ll be right back.”

(I run to the very back corner of the store, where the manager is bringing in a shipment of furniture. Thankfully, he’s nearly done. I quickly explain why I need him, and he writes his info for me to use. I run back up to the front.)

Me: “Sorry about that. He was accepting a load of furniture, and he wouldn’t have heard me if I paged him. He gave me his number, so now I can change the prices.”

(I successfully change the prices of the two make up brushes. But she’s not finished yet!)

Lady: “This one was hanging with the other ones on the dollar sign.”

(She holds up another make up brush that looks nothing like the other ones she has. The price tag on it does not say a dollar, either.)

Me: “I’m sorry, but if it was hanging with those other brushes then it was obviously not in the right place…”

Lady: “I don’t care. That’s not my fault.”

(By now, I’m fed up and just want to get her out of the store.)

Me: “Okay. I’ll change the price of that one, too.”

(I go to do so when, suddenly, the computer system won’t let me. I get errors three times in a row.)

Me: “The register is not letting me change the price of this item now for some reason. Let’s ring up the rest of the items, then we can try and ring this one up separately. Maybe it will work then.”

(As I’m trying to get her to pay, the lady starts making comments about how she thinks another item may have been in the wrong spot, as well. I tell her the price of that item and leave it at that. She pays, so I try doing a new transaction for the last make up brush. But even under a new transaction, the system is still not letting me change the price.)

Lady: “Well, maybe it doesn’t like your number. Try using the manager’s number.”

(I decide to call the manager up at this point. When he shows up, I explain how the system is malfunctioning. He suggests we print a new ticket for the item with the ticket printer on this register and change the price that way. I do so, and it works.)

Me: *hands the lady her receipt* “Thank you! Have a good day!”

(Once she was gone, I asked the manager if I could take my break early so I could go calm down. Thank goodness he let me because I was shaking with frustration! Talk about a lady with a “bah humbug” spirit! My coworkers were sympathetic and ranted with me about rude customers for the rest of my shift. At least my coworkers are pleasant people!)

A Very Ice Christmas

| RI, USA | Right | December 26, 2015

(It’s a rather moderate Christmas Day and a surprisingly busy one at that. A lot of people have been buying ice. According to store policy, you have to pay for ice inside first before I can get it from the ice storage outside. After giving a customer their ice that they paid for, a customer who is fueling up at one of the gas pumps calls over to me.)

Customer: “Hey, can I get some ice, too?”

Me: “You’ll have to pay for it inside first.”

Customer: “Well, why can’t you just get the ice for me and I’ll pay for it once I’m done?”

Me: “I can’t do that, sir. It’s store policy.”

Customer: “Fine.”

(After I go inside, the customer follows me in and pays for the ice. Unfortunately, other customers come in behind him and I cannot leave the building while other customers are inside, even if it’s just to get ice. Several customers come in, even after others leave. After about five minutes, I hear:)

Customer: “You know what? This could have been avoided if you had just gotten me the ice before.”

(He then left despite already paying for the ice and never came back to get a refund.)

Swearing Off Father Christmas

| San Francisco, CA, USA | Right | December 26, 2015

(It’s Christmas Eve. I’m standing at the mall entrance for a retail chain whose logo is concentric circles, checking receipts on expensive merchandise. I see a man in his late 30s to early 40s walk past with a five-to-six-year-old boy, presumably his son, both empty handed.)

Me: “Have a wonderful evening, sir, and Merry Christmas.”

Man: *turns around and flips me off* “How about you go f*** yourself, jack-a**!”

*turns back around and continues walking*

Me: *taken aback from his nonchalant hostility in front of his son* “Well, I hope your night gets better, sir, and that Junior repeats Daddy at Christmas dinner!”

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