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Return To The Holidays

, , , , , , | Right | December 22, 2022

It’s shortly before Christmas. I am in line at customer service to make a return. I have the receipt, the package is undamaged, and I’m within the time frame. The product, however, is bound to set off some red flags: it’s a gift set with two elaborate glasses and a bottle of fancy mixer for alcoholic beverages.

The cashier is very wary, and I can’t blame her.

Cashier: “Does this have alcohol in it?”

Me: “No, ma’am. It’s just the mixers. I checked the ingredients.”

I point out the package and she reads it carefully.

Cashier: “And why do you want to return it?”

Me: “I bought it as a gift for a dear friend and her new boyfriend, but I just found out he’s a recovering alcoholic.”

Cashier: “Oh… Oh! That’s no problem. Let me get this processed for you.”

We chatted for a bit, and she apologized for being suspicious. I told her I completely understood.

My friend’s now-fiancé is doing awesome with his recovery, and he now volunteers at a center for teens in recovery.

It’s Only Slander If You Weren’t Actually A Drunken Jerka**

, , , , | Right | CREDIT: Taylorsvillian69 | December 18, 2022

I work at a hotel that has several sister properties nearby. A fella got booted from one. Typically, once you’re kicked from one, you’re banned from all of the hotels under our ownership. Unfortunately, due to miscommunication, he ended up at our property last night. He caused a scene at the bar with other guests, was cut off, and screamed at the front desk because they would not sell him beer out of the suite shop after this.

He comes down to the desk this morning.

Guest: “I want to extend my reservation.”

I can smell the booze on his breath from the other side of the desk. I tell him no and why. He denies everything.

Guest: “You’re just going on hearsay from other people! It’s not the truth!”

I’m sure he was just too drunk to remember his actions.

Me: “I’m sorry, but you cannot stay at any of the other hotels in the area as you are now on the company-wide do-not-rent list.”

Fast forward to checkout time.

Guest: “Are you the one who told the other hotels not to rent to me?”

Me: “Yes.”

Guest: “I know the superior court judge of [County], and he owes me a favor. I want you to write down that you, [My Name], contacted other hotels and added me to the do-not-rent list. I’m going to press charges against you for slander!”

I impolitely told him:

Me: “F*** off. Go wait for your ride outside.”

I’d had enough.

In Line, With Wine, And Out Of Line

, , , , , , | Right | December 15, 2022

I am seventeen, and when I am a cashier at the grocery store, I have a sign up saying I am underage and cannot legally sell alcohol.

A customer has several bottles of wine lined up in my queue.

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I’m not old enough to scan your alcohol. Can you move over to the next register? She’ll be able to help you there!”

She looks at me in complete disgust.

Customer: “This is wine, not alcohol. I don’t drink alcohol! You are so rude!

Thankfully, she still moved over to the next line so I didn’t have to deal with her brand of crazy.

Sidebar: Chocolate Stout Is Surprisingly Delicious

, , , , , , | Working | December 12, 2022

My wife is pregnant and pretty far along. She’s matching the stereotype and getting all kinds of cravings at all kinds of times. One night at around 11:00 pm, she gets a craving for cheese sticks, salami, peanut butter, and a very specific chocolate and peanut butter candy.

I head to the store to pick up the items. I know from experience that when she asks for that candy, it’s going to be a rough night for my wife, and we won’t be going to bed any time soon since I want to stay up and help however I can. Knowing we will be up, I decide to pick up a bottle of a certain beer I like that happens to be a chocolate stout.

I go to the checkout, and the cashier tries to make small talk.

Cashier: “How are you this evening? Getting some midnight snacks?”

Me: *Chuckles* “Something like that. I got sent on an urgent run.”

Cashier: “Quite the mix you have here. This all going in one dish?”

Me: “No clue; this is just the list I got from my wife. Pregnancy cravings can be pretty random, I suppose.”

The cashier freezes in place mid-scan and gives me a glare like she is trying to make me spontaneously combust.


The rant continues for quite some time without me being able to get so much as a word in. Eventually, I’m able to flag down another employee who looks like they might be a manager of some kind. He asks me what is going on, and I explain that I am just trying to buy groceries and the cashier is going off on a rant.

Manager: “[Cashier], why don’t you let me take over this transaction?”


Manager: “Did you ever consider that maybe the beer was for him?”

After that, the cashier got a look of confusion on her face as if someone had just given a lecture on calculus to an eight-year-old.

Thankfully, I was able to pay and head home. I saw the cashier still working at that store later on but never anywhere near the registers.

Reasons Number One And Number Two Not To Work With People

, , , , , | Right | December 9, 2022

I’ve been working at a hotel for about two years. I learned to work all shifts, so there are nights that I work as an auditor (overnight shift). We’re also a hotel that receives distressed passengers from the local international airport, which is where some (not all by a long shot) of our most insane customers come from.

This happened to me on my audit shift, and I’m still wondering what is wrong with some people.

I sign in and run my reports. My shuttle driver is heading back with a few people who’ve been stranded due to the weather, so I set aside some rooms and wait.

Five people get off the shuttle. The first four are normal; they’re tired from waiting for a flight but for the most part pleasant and nice to deal with. The fifth is staggering back and forth and muttering to herself. Everyone in the lobby is trying to stay as far away from her as humanly possible, which is my clue that this last person is going to be… “fun.”

I check in the fourth guest and greet the fifth.

Me: “Hello, how may I help you?”

She stands there for about a minute with her mouth open and walks closer to the front desk, where I am barraged by the smell of alcohol. She stands there for another minute staring at me before she finally slurs out:

Guest: “I need a room. G**d***ed airport sent me here.”

Me: “Okay, ma’am, did they give you a letter for a discounted rate?”

A little FYI: unless it’s a mechanical failure or a staffing problem, the airlines will NEVER give out a hotel voucher; they’ll give you a distressed rate that’s approximately 20 to 30% cheaper than the regular rate.

Guest: *Still staring at me* “Yes.”

Me: “I need that letter, an ID, and a credit card for check-in.”

Guest: “What? Why d’you need that for?”

Me: “Well, this letter gives you a discounted rate, so I need your credit card for the cost of the room and your ID to prove that it is your credit card.”

Guest: “Fine!”

She starts rummaging through her ginormous purse, throwing all kinds of stuff all over the place.

She then stops mid-toss.

Guest: “I need to use the bathroom. Where’s the g**d***ed bathroom at?”

Me: “I can make you a key to use one of our bathrooms and give you directions to it.”

I make a key for it, point her down the hallway to where the two bathrooms are, and hand it to her.

Guest: “Gimme the key!”

The drunkard tries to swipe it out of my hand and misses twice before grabbing the key and staggering down the hall toward the bathroom.

While she’s out of the lobby, I pick up all of the crap that she pulled out of that cavernous bag of hers and pile it together so she can shove it back into her bag when she gets back. Five minutes pass before she comes back to the front office, and she’s swearing louder and louder as she’s walking toward me.

Guest: “There’s no g**d***ed bathroom down there! I gotta go, and there’s no bathroom down there, just two doors!”

Me: “Yes, ma’am, those doors are the entrance to the bathrooms. You use the key to open them.”

Guest: “I don’t have time for this! Gimme a room! I gotta go!”

Me: “Okay, I need your ID and credit card for check-in.”

Guest: “You’re not getting s*** until I go to the bathroom! Now gimme a room!”

Me: “Well then, ma’am, I suggest that you take the key that I made you and use one of the bathrooms down the hall because I can’t check you into a room without some sort of payment.”

Now, this is where it goes straight to crazy town.

She stands there for a couple of seconds, and then she unbuttons and takes down her pants and proceeds to evacuate both ends all over the lobby floor.

As she’s crouching there, I dial 911.

Thank whatever hotel deities are out there that the cops walk through that door as she is still relieving herself. They cuff her and walk her out the front door as she’s screaming.

Guest: “That stupid c*** has all my s***! She’s gonna steal my identity! She doesn’t even know where the f****** bathroom is!”

I called my maintenance guy to get the bio cleaners, filed a report with the police, and bagged the pile that I had put together.

The officer informed me that they did find her ID (which she was accusing me of stealing) and were going to put her in the drunk tank until she sobered up.

All I had to do then was help clean up the whole mess she had left. Fortunately, my maintenance guy helped, and I was able to run the audit without any more problems.