Unfiltered Story #163225

, , | Unfiltered | September 13, 2019

(I was hit by a car, which fractured multiple bones in my leg. Unfortunately, it took multiple corrective surgeries. I was at a popular convenience store, grocery shopping with my husband and mother-in-law, using a power scooter from the store. This occurred in a baking aisle with another customer.)
Customer #1: *storming up with a worker* There she is!
Worker: What’s wrong with her?
Customer#1: She’s using a scooter!
Worker: And?
Customer #1: I want it!
Worker: Ma’am, I cannot tell another customer to just give up a scooter. She may actually need it. They are for people who have issues walking.
Customer #1: She’s just faking! I’ve seen her standing several times. Make her get out NOW!
Worker: Ma’am, I cannot. I will not ask her to give you the scooter, if you are able to walk.
Customer #1: FINE!
(She walks over and shoves me out of the scooter. The other customer, a tall muscular guy, comes over and yells as he helps me back in.)
Customer #2: What the h*** is wrong with you, lady?!
Customer #1: She’s obviously faking! She’s too young to be needing a scooter! I should get it, since I’m obviously old enough to need one!
Customer #2: Lady, stop being a witch and leave her alone!
(Customer #1 grabs my arm and tries to yank me back out of the scooter, and customer #2 holds me in place, while me and him both yell at her to let go. The worker leaves and comes back with security, who hauls her away. I see her in handcuffs at the front and go up to her.)
Me: Ma’am, I’m sorry for the earlier confusion. *rolls up pant leg to show multiple surgery lines* I do need this scooter, because I was hit by a car and I’m still relearning how to walk. All three bones in my leg were fractured in multiple places, and I’m lucky to even be alive.
(She lunges again, and the cops took my statement. She was charged with assault. The store insisted on giving me a $50 gift card for my trouble.)

Unfiltered Story #162080

, , | Unfiltered | September 9, 2019

( I work at a very popular hardware store with a lumber yard. Store policy is when an item is sold by the foot, we need to measure it. And to ensure we do, security cameras watch us. This particular day, Im working the lumber yard register. a couple had a vey large cart with many items, including LOTS moulding, which is sold by the foot. I Grab a calculator for this one)

Me: (scans moulding. Register prompts for total feet. I grab the piece and place it against the affixed ruler.)

Customer: Thats 13 feet

Me: Im sorry, sir. But store policy is i must measure each piece. (Grabs next piece to measure)

Customer: Thats 10 feet.

Me: Sir, I have to measure it. We have cameras watching us.

Customer: This is B***S***. Youre just racist against Muslims. Your assuming Im lying to you because Im a Muslim.

(I never noted the color of his skin. Also I noticed at this point, all the moulding is the same and he has at least 25 pieces.)

Me: Im sorry, sir, but it is store policy.

Customer: (grabs all the pieces, and throws them in front of my register) I dont want them then! (Mutters something and i hear something about “Islamaphobia”)

(I continue to check him out. He leaves and I gather the moulding to take back. One of my associates saw the entire thing and helps me gather the pieces. The customer called the manager and told him i was being racist toward him. Thanks to my associate and the handy dandy videos, his complaint was unwarrantes)

In This Argument, It Is Best That You Fold

, , , , | Right | August 23, 2019

(We used to have a slightly older woman working in our clothing department who everyone loved. She quit after years of working there because she had been doing it just for something to do and she finally got sick of horrible customers and even worse managers. She comes in one day a couple of months later and browses through our clothing department. The new girl spends about twenty minutes fixing a stack of shirts while another female customer watches her. After the new girl finishes that stack and goes to the next table, the female customer grabs a handful of the bottom of the stack. She knows these are all the same shirt because she has watched the girl fold the entire stack. She pulls them all out, toppling the entire stack, and then looks at the shirts in her hand for just a second before tossing them back onto the now-destroyed stack of clothes. The ex-employee sees this and goes off on the customer, in full-on mom mode.)

Ex-Employee: “What the h*** is the matter with you?! You watched this poor girl fold every single one of those shirts for almost half an hour and just destroyed them in a second! You go fix that mess you made! NOW!”

(The ex-employee makes such a huge fuss about it that every other customer within sight is staring at the female customer, who is now red as a beet. She grabs the whole stack and sets the ones that are still folded up straight and refolds every one that she messed up. It takes about another fifteen minutes for her to fix what she demolished, and then the ex-employee goes right back to being as pleasant as she ever is.)

Ex-Employee: “There! Was that really worth giving her that trouble? Wouldn’t it have been so much easier to just not screw with her? Maybe next time you’ll think before you act!”

(And with that, our ex-employee patted the customer’s shoulder and walked away with a little more pep in her step. Later, before she left, our ex-employee told me she’d wanted to do that for years and since she couldn’t get in trouble now it felt “so good!” to finally get to tell off someone who did that.)

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Getting Heated About Not Getting Heated  

, , , | Right | August 23, 2019

(I work at a popular coffee stand in a wealthy area mall. This morning our oven decided to break, not allowing us to warm up any pastries.)

Customer: “I need a croissant warmed up.”

Me: “I’m so sorry, but our oven is broken. Would you still like the croissant?”

Customer: *exhales loudly* “I’m in a hurry and you’re going to let me starve?!”

Me: “Um, no. I can still sell you the croissant; it just won’t be warmed up.” 


Me: “Okay. Well, there’s another coffee shop right on the other side of the food court here. Or there are all these other restaurants that sell warm food…” 

Customer: “No! I don’t have time for that. What are you going to do for me?”

Me: “I’m sorry, but there really isn’t anything I can do. I wish our oven was working.”

Customer: “Give me your name and manager’s number! I can’t believe you’re making me starve!”

(The entire conversation took about ten minutes — plenty of time to grab something else to eat from a different restaurant.)

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When Five Is Greater Than Eight

, , , , | Right | August 22, 2019

(I am in my second week of starting my new job, so my manager is nearby to supervise and help me. I’ve largely got the hang of it by now, though I do appreciate the occasional help. A customer walks up. I am the most free at the time since my manager is frying chips and my coworker is on break, so I walk up to her.)

Me: “Hello. What can I get for you?”

Customer: “Hi. I would like eight fried chicken legs.”

Me: “Well, it’ll be a lot cheaper to get the eight-piece set, since it’ll have to be rung up as eight chicken legs.”

Customer: “Don’t worry, since it’s the eight-piece on sale.”

Me: “Um, I cannot substitute pieces for a set.”

Manager: *who was nearby with the fryers* “What’s the problem?”

Customer: “I just want the eight-piece on sale with the eight chicken legs.”

Manager: “Ma’am, that does not apply. Look up and you’ll find the eight-piece set on sale.”

Customer: *looks up briefly* “Yeah, but it’s different than what’s on the glass counter.”

Manager: “Look up again.”

Customer: *takes a longer look at the sign above* “It is the same one.”

Manager: “See?” *goes back to frying more chips*

Me: “Okay, shall I get you the eight-piece set?”

Customer: “No. Instead, I want five fried-chicken legs.”

Me: “Um, Okay. But it’ll be cheaper to get the eight-piece set.”

Customer: “Don’t worry. I want the five chicken legs.”

Me: “Okay.”

(I go and get her the five chicken legs and, after ringing it up as five chicken legs, which is more expensive than the eight-piece set by a few dollars, I give it to her and give her my farewell. I then take a few steps back to my manager, who’s frying a new batch of chips.)

Me: “People can be pretty weird.”

Manager: “I hate people.”

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