My store has recently had a three-day promotion on womenswear; we have been giving out vouchers that give a customer £10 off if they spend £50 or more on womenswear. The promotion has now ended. A customer comes to my till.

Me: “That’ll be [price], please.”

The customer hands over a £10 voucher.

Me: “Sorry, madam, this offer has finished.”

Customer: “But I want my £10 off!”

Me: “It wouldn’t be valid anyway.”

Customer: “Why not?”

Me: “Well, for a start, your total is less than £50, and you’ve bought menswear.”

Customer: “So?”

Me: “The voucher was for £50 spent on womenswear between [dates].”

Customer: “Where does it say that?”

I point out the details — in big, clear letters — on the voucher.

Customer: “That’s disgraceful! You should make it more obvious!” *Leaves*

I’m reporting myself here.

I rushed to the store the other night, in a bit of a panic since they weren’t too far from closing and I needed a few things urgently. After quickly grabbing my things, I got to the cash register and the cashier started ringing through my items. It was at that moment that I realized I’d left my wallet at home.

As someone who suffers from social anxiety, I felt myself getting panicky as I asked the cashier if it was possible to suspend my transaction so I could run home and get my wallet. I figured that if I ran carefully on the icy roads, I might make it back in time before they closed, but I was feeling the anxiety build and my entire body was shaking.

That’s when the cashier took a look at the time, took a look at me, and asked me if I had Swish, a Swedish mobile app to transfer money instantly. I nodded yes since at this point I was fighting tears. They immediately whipped out their wallet, paid for my groceries, gave me their number and the total, and asked me to just transfer the money to them. I pulled my phone out and did so while thanking them profusely with my breathing finally going back to normal.

I’ve always talked about how much I hate living in a tiny town, but at times like this, I’m grateful for it; the cashier most likely saved me because he’s seen me pretty much every single week for the past five years. I’ve got nothing but gratitude to that cashier who helped me out when it would have been well within his right to deny me service and ask me to sort payment out some other way.

Thank you, cashier, for rescuing an anxious and panicky girl in her thirties and restoring some of her faith in humanity.

I’m finishing up with a customer as I notice a girl in her late teens walking up to me and my coworker slowly. I know something is up.

Me: “Hi. How are you today? What can we help you with?”

Customer: “Hi. I just got off work to realize I left my debit card at home. You see, I have been using it as a bookmark and I left the book at home. I have the numbers, so can I still use it?”

My coworker is kind of new, so she looks at me for the answer. I can’t believe she asked this.

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but we can’t do that. We need the card present along with the expiry date and the number on the back of the card.”

Customer: *Quickly answers* “Oh, I have that!”

Me: “But I would still need the card present since you are in person and not over the phone.”

Customer: “But I have a picture of it and it has my name and everything!”

I figure out by then she is for sure trying to scam us, because who takes a picture of their card?

Me: “I’m really sorry, ma’am, but without the card here with you, I can’t sell anything to you.”

Customer: *Mumbling* “But we let customers do that at my other job.”

She walked off. I can honestly say I can’t think of one store that would let someone use their debit card when it wasn’t there with them!

Related:
Gotta Give Them Credit For Trying, Part 3
Gotta Give Them Credit For Trying, Part 2
Gotta Give Them Credit For Trying

I’m working at the cash register at a toy store. A customer comes up and dumps his items on the counter, completely absorbed in his iPhone.

Me: “Hi there. How are you tonight?”

Customer: *Silence*

Me: “All right, then, do you need a gift receipt for any of these?”

Customer: *Silence*

Me: “Sir, do you need a gift receipt?”

Customer: “What? Oh, no, it’s fine.”

We need to ask this before scanning anything because you cannot go back and add a gift receipt later. I proceed to scan his items.

Me: “Would you like a bag or would you rather carry it?”

Customer: *Silence*

I repeat myself several more times, each time a little louder. Plastic bags cost five cents so we need to actually ask.

Me: “Sir! Would you like a bag or not?”

Customer: “Oh, what? Bag? No, it’s fine.”

I tell him the total and he goes about paying with a credit card. The second the receipt comes out, he FINALLY looks up at me.

Customer: “Oh, and I need a gift receipt and a bag.”

I facepalmed.

I’m an assistant manager at a supermarket. There are two others there, as well, and only two are needed at customer service, so I help out with bagging. The cashier is new and somewhat inexperienced. If a customer comes up with a bag of bread that they’ve selected themselves, we’re either supposed to count them if it’s a small number, or ask them how many there are, and if it looks reasonable, we take them at their word.

Cashier: “Hello! How are you, ma’am?”

Customer: “Fine, thanks.”

The cashier starts scanning items and comes to a bag of bread.

Cashier: “How many?”

Customer: “Six.”

The cashier puts six into the transaction, but with the bag as big as it is, I know there’s no way it could only contain six. I pull the clear bag out of the brown bag and quickly count them after she sends the bag down my way. I count fifteen.

Me: “[Cashier], it’s fifteen, not six.”

She turns to me because she didn’t hear, so I repeat it. The customer gives me a dirty look.

Customer: “That’s not right.”

Me: “There were fifteen breads; you said there were only six.”

Customer: “I know, but that’s not right.”

Me: “What’s not right?”

Customer: “You make it look like I’m trying to steal.”

Me: “Ma’am, she asked how many breads there were, and you deliberately said that there were a lot fewer than there actually are.”

Customer: “I don’t care. Get me your manager!”

My manager was nearby in the customer service area, so I went to get her. As I walked through the door and explained it to her, the customer barged through the door, like she was going to attack me or something. The owner, a huge, over-six-feet-tall bald man, grabbed her and pinned her to the ground while I called the police. She ranted and raved, but since we had the security footage, she was escorted out by the cops.