The Card Reader Is Antique

, , , , | Working | September 21, 2017

(I’m visiting my sister in Idaho, and she takes me to what’s essentially an antiques flea market – a long building crammed with rows and rows of assorted antiques, separated into booths. It looks like a very established place [and I know my sister has been going there for years], but when I go up to the checkout with a $3 trinket, this happens:)

Me: “Just this, please.”

Cashier: “Okay. And how will you be paying?”

Me: “Debit.” *I get out my debit card, and the cashier’s eyes go wide*

Cashier: “Oh, please don’t. You don’t have cash? Or a check?” *she hesitantly pulls out a tiny, outdated-looking card-reader, not quite bringing it out, like she’s praying I’ll change my mind*

Me: “Uh… I have a $50 that I haven’t been able to break yet. I don’t want to clear out your register.”

Cashier: *lighting up and throwing the card-reader back under the counter* “Cash is great! Please just break your $50. That’ll be best.”

Me: “Okay. That’s fine with me.”

Cashier: *counts out my change* “Would you like a receipt?”

Me: “No, that’s all right.”

Cashier: “Oh, it’s already printing. Here you go!”

(She hands me the receipt, which is a full 8.5 x 11 sheet of printer paper, with my tiny $3 purchase filling one line at the very top.)

Making A Display Of Himself

| DC, USA | Right | May 4, 2017

(We sell high end antiques, specializing in furniture. A woman comes in and is very interested in a table we have. However she wants her husband’s approval prior to making such a large purchase. Later that afternoon, the husband comes in.)

Husband: “My wife wants me to look at a table.”

Me: “Ah, yes, right over here. Let me tell you about this piece…”

(I tell him what I know about the history of the piece while he walks around it, then he nods. It seems like an easy sale.)

Husband: “If it’s what she wants, we will take it. Is there any way we can have it delivered tomorrow?”

Me: “Of course. Let me get some information from you for the delivery.”

(While I’m ringing him up and getting his delivery information, the backroom employees start padding the table to be moved. The husband notices this and gets angry.)

Husband: “Oh, don’t tell me you’re going to try to give me the display.”

Me: “The… display?”

Husband: “The table that you have out! You’re trying to pass off the one that’s been out on the floor.”

Me: “Sir, it’s a custom made item that 150 years old. It’s the only one of its kind in the world.”

Husband: “What? I don’t want something used! You know what? Cancel the sale!”

(He huffs out while I’m still standing confused. An hour later, I get a phone call from his wife.)

Wife: “I’d like to arrange buying that table and apologize for my husband. Sometimes, he is a profound idiot.”

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He Has A Fat Chance

, | London, England, UK | Romantic | November 15, 2016

I occasionally work at antiques fairs, mainly specialising in Ancient Greek and Roman antiques, like coins, statues, vases, etc. Today I’m covering all ancient and Oriental artefacts, including two statues from ninth-century China, both named ‘Fat Ladies.’

A man comes up to the booth and looks intently at the two statues for a while before giving me a leery smile and saying ‘I like fat ladies.’ and then patting me on the head before leaving without saying another word.

Getting Into Boy Trouble

| USA | Related | September 24, 2016

(My family runs an antique business, which my brother and I have helped with since we were in elementary school. At a show, I’m watching the booth with my dad and a couple walk up to the cases. I’m a girl, early 20s, with short hair.)

Me: “Hi, can I help you with something?”

Male Customer: “Yes, Can I see—” *points to antique in case*

(I pull some antiques out for him, quote some prices, and he asks about other pieces of the same type. My dad takes over from here, and takes them into the booth where the other pieces are, and I go back to my watching spot, reading. At some point, the wife of the male customer walks up to me.)

Wife: “I’m sorry; he didn’t mean it.”

Me: *slightly confused, thinking about something to do with the antiques* “Oh, that’s ok. It happens.” *I go back to reading*

(A few minutes later, when the customers have left, my dad hugs me.)

Dad: “I’m sorry, honey.”

Me: *really confused at this point* “Um, okay, it’s all right, dad.”

(A few minutes later, a different female customer, who was here at the same time as the couple comes up to me.)

Female Customer: “He’s not right, you know. You really don’t look like a boy.”

(At this point, I put the pieces together. The male customer had a conversation that had gone something like this:)

Male Customer: “That’s a nice young man you have with you. Is he your son?”

Dad: *slightly embarrassed* “That’s my daughter…”

Male Customer: *even more embarrassed* “I… um… she’s very nice!”

(They didn’t end up buying anything.)

Installed The “Lies” Plug-In

| CA, USA | Right | June 14, 2016

(I work at an antique store but sometimes we get electronics and modern merchandise in the store. I always greet customers when I’m working as cashier since the registers are right in front of the door. This woman walks in and I greet her, but she just glares at me. I knew she would be trouble.)

Customer: “Hi. I was wondering how can I find out if this actually works?” *she has an old phone in her hand*

Me: “Well, what does it say on the tag?”

Customer: “I already read the f****** tag. It doesn’t say anything besides the description of the phone.”

Me: “Well, unfortunately, ma’am, in order for me to find out whether this phone works or not, I would have to unplug the telephone cord. That would turn off our fax machine and our credit card machine, so unfortunately, I can’t tell you if it works.”

Customer: “Well, isn’t there another store I can go to and ask them if they’ll unplug their lines for me?”

Me: “I can assure you that no businesses around here will be willing to unplug their lines to plug in a phone that doesn’t belong to them.”

Customer: “Don’t f****** lie to me, you b****! The other store I went to said they would unplug their lines for me!”

Me: “We’re not affiliated with that store, ma’am. I’m not allowed to walk over there and ask them to unplug their lines.”

Customer: “Well, no wonder you’re such a fat b****! You can’t even walk a couple of blocks to help me?! I want to speak to your manager immediately! Why would she ever hire a fat little s*** like you?! What kind of store is this?! I want to speak to the owner. You’ll get fired, just see!”

Me: “No problem, ma’am. I’ll have my manager meet with you shortly.”

Manager: “What’s the problem, ma’am?”

Customer: “This stupid employee of yours was extremely rude to me! I want her fired immediately!”

Manager: “What has she done to you?”

Customer: “She REFUSED to plug this phone in for me.”

Manager: “Ma’am, I heard the whole conversation. There is no need to lie about someone who’s young enough to be your granddaughter. If you like the other store so much, I suggest you find your phone there.”

Customer: “You’re all racist! I’m calling the person who owns this place! I’ll Yelp how terrible you and your employees are!”

(She promptly left the store, red faced and embarrassed. I never did find that Yelp review, though.)

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