I work in a small store, and we have a regular customer who is a veteran. I can’t give him too much hate since he was shot in the head a long time ago and still has the scar to show it. This has led to him having, um… special privileges. Let’s just say that he can get more than a military discount from the local bakery. Don’t mistake this as me hating him for his condition. I respect him for his service, and he usually is kind. He just… has his moments. Today is one of those moments.

He comes into our small store and starts sweeping through, grabs about $300 worth of stuff, and hauls it up to our only till. Now, when I say $300, I mean $300-plus after the military discount and state taxes; it is honestly closer to $330.

Me: “Your total is [amount].”

He nods his head, mumbles something, and pulls out a thick wallet, full to the brim with credit cards — thicker than two thumbs of cards and nothing but. He doesn’t even look down and pulls out the frontmost card.

A few seconds later, my screen flashes: “DECLINED.” No problem; we can do the next card. What can possibly go wrong?

“DECLINED.”

“DECLINED.”

“DECLINED.”

“DECLINED.”

Me: “Perhaps we should do cash or a check?”

He shakes his head and motions that he doesn’t have either. On to the next card!

“DECLINED.”

“DECLINED.”

“APPROVED!” …for $20 only. Yep, it’s a gift card. On to the next card.

Three more cards decline.

“APPROVED!” …for $19.91. We have less than $300 to go.

Two more cards decline.

At this point, I’m getting a rare sight in this small store: a line. We have three people waiting. I’m on the only till, and I’m the only employee.

“DECLINED.”

[Veteran] is getting mad. I don’t blame him. We are now out of bank-approved cards, and we’re into “special funds” from “special clients” cards.

“DECLINED.”

“APPROVED!” …for $5.

Three more cards decline.

There are five people in line now, and the guy behind [Veteran] is giving me the look a hungry [Entitled Customer] gives when she knows there’s a weak retail worker with no manager nearby to feast upon. And more people are coming in.

“DECLINED.”

“DECLINED.”

Can you tell I’m in Hell yet? Several more cards decline.

Finally, the last card… guess what?

“APPROVED!” …for $25. Another gift card.

[Veteran] lets out a long sigh and reaches into his pocket, pulling out ANOTHER WALLET! It’s full of fifties — about three fingers thick! He pays the rest off, and all of the bills pass the UV and marker tests. I give him his change and his bags of stuff, and I am about to turn to the next customer when he says:

Veteran: “Auugh Uuu Ggoo Krrr Hsss?”

Me: *Thrown off* “I’m sorry, could you please repeat that?”

Veteran: “Auugh Uuu Ggoo Krrr Hsss?”

Yep, I didn’t mishear him. He wanted me to carry his bags out to his car — as the only retail worker in the store and with five or six people behind him. Thankfully, a nice guy from the line realized what [Veteran] wanted and volunteered as tribute. He carried out [Veteran]’s stuff as I rang up everyone else’s purchases.

Bless you, [Nice Guy]; he told me after coming back to buy his things that [Veteran]’s car was three blocks away. [Nice Guy], please know that if I could have made your purchases any cheaper, I would have, but I do hope that you accept the secret military discount I snuck into your purchase.

I want to elaborate again that I do not hate [Veteran] for who he is. He is a chill dude, but dang, some days he’s so frustrating!

I’m working at the checkout, and an item isn’t scanning. I call for a manager, and the customer and I wait.

Customer: “Can you just put in any price?”

Me: “No, I can’t.”

After a bit, she asked again:

Customer: “Are you sure you can’t just put in any price?”

Me: “I’m not allowed; I could lose my job.”

Customer: “Oh, I don’t mind!”

I work multiple jobs, and in my free time from my main job, I work for a delivery service.

[Delivery Service] has a uniform for their drivers, but they don’t require us to wear them. I am wearing a rainbow-striped tank top, blue-jean shorts, and flip-flops.

I have just finished shopping for a customer at a chain retailer and have just processed the order. [Retailer] is nice enough to have a stand with lots of bags for [Delivery Service] drivers to bag their ordered groceries. In this particular [Retailer], it is a closed register lane.

As I’m bagging my order, in a lane with a sign on the conveyor belt that says, “Closed,” a guy starts to unload his cart onto the unmoving belt. I look at him with confusion, and he gives me the same look. I’m wondering why he placed his stuff on a clearly closed belt, and he’s wondering why I’m not scanning his stuff.

I mean, I get it. I clearly look like a [Retailer] employee what with my red shirt (rainbow striped), nice long brown pants (blue-jean shorts), and closed-toe work shoes (flip-flops).

Customer: “Aren’t you gonna scan my stuff?”

Me: *Confused* “Dude, this register is closed, and I don’t work here.”

I could see the gears turning in his head as he finally noticed the “closed” sign and my clearly not-[Retailer] outfit. He said nothing as he reloaded his cart and went to an actually open register.

I chuckled as I left the store. I get it. On autopilot, you see a person’s presence behind a register and assume that you can go there without actually looking at the details of your surroundings. It was still pretty funny.

Related:
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 44
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 43
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 42
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 41
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 40

Working in a small grocery store in an affluent area, we get a lot of privileged, insane customers.

Each week, our store emails three coupons to customers on our mailing list. These coupons are very popular, and we usually see a few hundred a day. One week, one of the coupons is for half off a nice cut of steak.

At around 7:00 pm on a Friday, the store is starting to calm down just after the dinner rush. A customer comes to my check stand, visibly upset, with a package of said steak in his hand. Before I can get a word out, he holds the steak to my face.

Customer: “Tell me exactly the total package weight.”

Me: “It weighs exactly 1.015 pounds.”

I will always remember that number.

Customer: “I asked the meat department to give me a cut that weighed exactly one pound!”

To those who haven’t worked with meat, it is incredibly hard to get an exact weight and customers are usually okay with a little extra.

Me: “We can go over to the meat department and have them trim off some of the weight?”

Customer: *Getting angrier* “I don’t want the meat cut. I want to only be charged for the one pound I requested!”

Being new to the store, I didn’t know how to respond, so I called one of my managers over. The customer loudly repeated his story and request to the manager, insisting that we could and should do this.

My manager replied with the same solution of returning to the meat department, again setting the customer off. This process was repeated verbatim to another manager and eventually the store manager. Eventually, my manager told me to only charge him for the one pound and give him a 10% discount.

To top it all off, the customer had left his coupon at home and insisted we still honor it, which my store manager agreed to do. In the end, the guy had maybe saved $1.30 with the reduced weight price and discount, yet still decided to spend twenty minutes tearing me and half of the staff new ones.

Working in a grocery store has made me hate people.

I am informed that a customer complained about me because when she first visited our store, I was “standoffish and ignored her.” My associates and I work on commission; therefore, we take turns dealing with customers on a rotation. When the complaining customer came in, I happened to be with another customer, so I let my coworker have this particular woman. She left without buying anything.

A few days later, she comes back in and looks at the same item.

Customer: “Can I still get the discount you were offering a few days ago?”

Me: “That sale is now over, but if you paid with the store credit card, I can offer you an equal discount.”

Customer: *Getting mad* “So, I missed the sale and now you’re punishing me?”

She decides to buy the item anyway. A different coworker takes the sale and rings her up. I grab one of the brand cases for the item she is purchasing and hand it to my coworker so he won’t waste her time scrambling around looking for it. She pays and walks out.

I get a phone call not fifteen minutes later from the same customer.

Customer: “You gave me the wrong case! I was supposed to get a box, too.”

Wanting to defuse the situation:

Me: “I apologize for the mix-up. We can switch out the cases at your convenience, and we will make sure you get the ‘right’ packaging.”

She came back, and I switched out the cases for her. No big deal.

My general manager got a scathing customer complaint about how rude I was and how I LIED to her about the case mishap and how I gave her a “cheap” case. (Because it wasn’t in a box? Some of this particular brand’s cases come in boxes and some don’t. They all have authenticity certificates inside, as well.) She complained that everyone at the store is always nice and I was a b****. She then apparently asked for me to be fired.

All because of a cardboard box.