One Final Lesson For The Student

| UK | Right | January 29, 2016

(It’s opening night for an extremely popular film so we’re very busy. Two people approach my till.)

Customer #1: “Two student tickets for [Opening Night Film].”

Me: “Can I see your student cards, please?”

(Customer #2’s ID checks out but Customer #1’s is past its expiry date.)

Me: “I’m sorry, sir. I can’t accept this. Do you have any other form of student ID?”

Customer #1: “Why? What’s wrong with it?”

Me: “This one expired back in July.”

Customer #1: “But it still gets me onto campus.”

Me: “I’m sorry but I do have to go by the date on the card. Do you have anything else?”

(Customer #1 rustles through his wallet and hands me a freshly laminated card that says ‘library’ on one side and his name on the other. No expiry date.)

Me: “Well, I’m sorry, but I can’t accept this either. You need to talk to your university ASAP about getting an up-to-date ID or you can purchase [officiated student card] on their website.”

Customer #1: “I can’t do that. I graduated.”

Me: “…You graduated?”

Customer #1: “Yeah.”

Me: “In July?”

Customer #1: “Yeah.”

Me: “You know that means you’re not a student, right?”

Customer #1: “I know.”

Me: “So why are you trying to buy a student ticket?”

Customer #2: *has been silent and unbothered throughout this exchange that has caused a large queue to build up behind them but suddenly chips in* “He thought you would be too busy getting through the queue to check him.” *to Customer #1* “Stop being a cheapskate and buy the tickets already or we’ll miss the d*** film.”

(This is not an uncommon occurrence and all over £2.)

Had A Sub-Standard Education

| Madison, WI, USA | Right | January 29, 2016

Teenage Customer: “Can I get a ham on wheat?”

Me: “Absolutely. Is that a six-inch or twelve-inch?”

Teenage Customer: “What’s the difference?”

Me: *speechless*

(The customer’s dad turns to his son and gives him a disgusted look.)

Customer’s Dad: “One’s bigger, a**-hole.”

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Taxing Faxing, Part 17

| Melbourne, VIC, Australia | Right | January 29, 2016

(After finishing up a call with a customer…)

Me: “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

Customer: “You know, you don’t have to send out things via the post. It’s such a waste of paper and trees.”

Me: “Fair enough.”

Customer: “So, I was thinking you could fax them. Is that okay?”

 

Da Vinci Tourists

| Right | January 29, 2016

Leaving Only With Emotional Scar(f)s

, | UK | Right | January 28, 2016

(I am a volunteer in a charity shop. There is nowhere to store personal belongings, so I put my handbag under the counter and my coat and scarf on the back of the cashier’s chair – this is also behind the counter. I am sitting on the chair. A customer is about to pay for a book, and spots my scarf. There are several scarves for sale in the shop, including in the window display.)

Customer: “Can I see that scarf, please?”

Me: “Which one?”

Customer: “There.” *points to my scarf*

Me: “Oh, sorry, that’s mine. We have lots of others around the shop.”

Customer: “Yours? What do you mean?”

Me: “It’s mine; it belongs to me. It’s not for sale.”

Customer: “Of course it’s for sale. You can’t just keep anything you like the look of. I want to buy it. How much is it?”

Me: “No, sorry, it’s mine. It’s not from the shop. It’s really not for sale.”

Customer: “Yes, it is. How much?”

Me: “It’s MY scarf, I wore it to come to work this morning, it BELONGS to me, and it is NOT for sale. I can’t be much clearer.”

(At this point the customer glares at me and starts to walk AROUND the counter, looking at my scarf and is obviously just going to grab it. The other customers are staring at her in disbelief. I take my scarf from the chair and stuff it under the counter with my handbag, and physically stand in front of the customer so she can’t get round to the cashier’s area.)

Customer: “Hey, I want that! You can’t just hide it and keep it for yourself.”

Me: “Yes, I can, because it’s mine. You are not buying it. I am not going to sell it to you. Now, do you want the book?”

(She stands and glares at me, then throws the book onto the counter and stomps out of the shop, shaking her head and making comments about how rude I am and how she can’t believe how I treated her.)

Next Customer: *after a few moments of stunned silence* “So… how much for your coat, then?”

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