It’s A Time For Giving, And Taking Advantage

, , , , , | Friendly | June 6, 2018

(I am doing some grocery and Christmas shopping with my daughter when a woman comes up to me, asking if I can help her buy some things for her two small children so they can have a good Christmas. We are on a budget, and I don’t have any spare cash on me, so I tell her to meet me at the checkout counter and I will pay for thirty dollars’ worth. She thanks me, grabs a cart, and goes on her way. When I get to the checkout counter I see her, and she has a full cart filled with stuff! I look at her in horror.)

Me: “Ma’am, I only said I could pay for thirty dollars’ worth; there’s at least three hundred dollars’ worth in your cart.”

(She looks at me and then picks out five items.)

Me: “How much will that total?”

Woman: “About a hundred dollars.”

Me: “I’m sorry; I can only afford thirty.”

(She grumbled and got rid of two of the items, and the remaining three were about thirty-two dollars. I paid for them, but was annoyed to see that the three items were some Christmas lights, a kitchen knife set, and a lighted Santa decoration for the windows. I originally agreed to thirty dollars because she said she wanted her kids to have a merry Christmas, and I thought she was going to pick stuff for them, but apparently not!)

Has The Authority To Tell You How It Is

, , , , , , | Right | June 6, 2018

(I am 17, working at an outlet for a hardware shop. I have an irate customer who wants a discount because — get this — the drills were too hard to find! He didn’t ask anyone where to find them. He gets a bit abusive after I tell him I can’t do that, and interrupts me before I can get in, “but I can call the manager to handle that.” However, the manager is actually walking past at the time and hears most of the one-sided conversation. He fronts up to this bloke, and says in one of those suppressed-anger sorts of voices the following awesome rebuttal:)

Manager: “Do you know how old this boy is? Do you know how much he earns?”

Customer: “No. Why should I care?” *a lot more calmly, because the manager is a big bloke*

Manager: “He’s 17. And he earns $6 an hour.”

Customer: “Wh—”

Manager: *louder* “Do you know how much authority he has to give you a discount? Not none at all. Not zero. Less than none; less than zero.”

Customer: “How c—”

Manager:Because, if he works hard, in a year or two he’ll get a promotion, and then he’ll have no f****** authority to give you a discount. Since he’s lower on the scale than that, he must have less than zero authority to do it now, get it?”

Customer: “Well, I—”

Manager: “HE’S SO FAR DOWN THE LINE OF AUTHORITY, HE HAS TO STAND ON A F****** LADDER TO TIE HIS SHOES!”

Customer: “Bu—”

Manager: “Furthermore, sir, he’s a minor, and the way you were talking to him is abuse of a minor, and you could be arrested for it.”

Customer: “Uh, I—”

Manager: “So, in future, if you want a discount, ask someone in authority. Ask me! Don’t abuse the staff; they can’t do anything. I’m the one who can! I’m the only one! Now, put the drills back or pay the full amount, because I’m not going to give you a discount, because you’re a s***head!”

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A Poor Memory For Memory

, , , , , | Right | June 6, 2018

(A respected and “highly educated” member of our area walks into the shop I work for. I say, “highly educated,” because his profession requires multiple degrees. Day 1:)

Customer: “This stick of memory is bad; my system has been warning me of memory errors.”

(This is a no-nonsense kind of guy, so I look at the memory, grab a new module, and hand it to our secretary to ring it up for him.)

Me: “This is an identical replacement. Same model, even.”

(Day 2: The secretary leaves a note.)

Note: “Mr. [Customer] yelled and screamed at me on the phone last night that we sold him a bad part. I said tomorrow was my day off but that you’d be here. Sucks to be you!”

(The customer comes in. I apologize and exchange the stick for a new — unopened and same spec — higher-end stick. Day 3: I have just opened the shop. Suddenly, I hear a car door slam and someone cussing up a storm, followed shortly by another car door slamming. Our door opens to the same swearing voice and the worst stench of ozone.)

Customer: “You [string of expletives]! You will fix my computer right f***ing now and stop selling me broken s***, or you close tonight, permanently.”

(The secretary hides.)

Me: *calmly* “To help me figure out what the original problem is, what was the memory error it had?”

Customer: “It won’t even g**d*** turn on!”

Me: *still calm* “No, sir, the original error, from two days ago.”

Customer: “What the f*** does that have to do with the scam you’re running?”

Me: *calm silence*

Customer: “Some virtual memory bull****!”

Me: “What did you do after the error?”

Customer: “I pulled the broken memory out.”

Me: *pause* “Did you turn it off first?”

(The customer storms out, leaving his computer. The secretary peeks out from the restroom.)

Secretary: “What was wrong?”

Me: “Someone skipped fourth grade earth science. Touching electricity, bad.

(We tested every component. The original stick of memory was the only undamaged part. Even the case LEDs blew out.)

Pull Up A Chair And Watch The Show

, , , , , , | Friendly | June 5, 2018

(My mother has recently had both knees replaced, and is taking a while to heal. She’s able to walk, but when she knows she’ll be doing something that requires a lengthy amount of time on her feet, she prefers to use her personal motorized scooter. I have agreed to go shopping with her two months after her surgery, so I can push the cart for her. We have just finished checking out when she decides to visit the bathroom.)

Mom: “[My Name], sit in my chair while I’m gone.”

Me: “Why? I can watch the chair and the basket at the same time while sitting on the bench.”

Mom: “Just trust me. Sit on it. Otherwise, someone will try to take it.”

(Her chair doesn’t have a basket or the store’s logo anywhere on it, so it shouldn’t be mistaken for one of their carts, which is designed completely different from hers. However, I sit on it, and not even a minute goes by before I am approached.)

Woman: “I didn’t know lazy was a handicap. Get up; I need that cart.”

Me: “Excuse me? I’m not getting up. The store’s carts are at the front, with the buggies.”

Woman: “They’re all out. Get up. Looks like you’ve checked out already, anyway. Your fat a** can walk your buggy out of here.”

Me: “This is my mother’s personal scooter. F*** off.”

Woman: “B****, get your stupid, fat, lazy a** off! Before I get a manager!”

Me: “Okay, A: I don’t work here. B: This belongs to my mother. C: If we’re going to judge someone by looks alone, you seem to have walked around the store well enough by yourself to come all the way in from one side to the other, just to yell at me. You are not getting this chair!”

(My mother came out of the bathroom and, when I got up to let her sit back down, the other woman tried to sit in it. My mother yelled at her angrily, “Get out of my chair, you hag! I just had double knee replacement surgery!” It shocked the woman enough to hop out of the chair and scurry off. I still don’t understand why she was rude and trying to take a chair that didn’t belong to the store.)

 

Threading In Some Lies

, , , , , , | Friendly | June 4, 2018

(My mother and I go to the garage sale of an old family friend who often goes to storage unit auctions. While browsing, I find a gallon zipper bag that is stuffed full of tangled-up embroidery floss with a 50-cent price sticker on it, so I snag it. I find a few other odds and ends that I like and start towards the register with it when another woman suddenly snatches the bag of embroidery floss from me and hurries to the check-out table with it.)

Woman: *to [Friend’s Husband] in a syrupy sweet voice* “I’d like to offer you 25 cents for this bag of embroidery thread. It’s going to take me a very long time to untangle this mess before I can use it.”

Friend’s Husband: *takes the bag and puts it behind the register* “Ma’am, I saw you take this from [My Name]’s hand. She had it first, so she gets to buy it.”

Woman: *huffs loudly then screeches* “She probably doesn’t even know what to do with it! I want it, so sell it to me!”

(At this point, everyone else at the sale is staring at her like she’s grown another head and [Friend] walks over to see what’s going on.)

Friend: *sweetly* “Yes, ma’am. What seems to be the problem here?”

Woman: *points at me* “This girl wants the bag of embroidery thread, but I had it first, and I want it for 25 cents.”

Friend’s Husband: *shakes head* “Nah, honey. [My Name] had it, and this old bat took it from her hand before she could get up here.”

Friend: *nods* “I see.” *smiles brightly* “In that case, [My Name] can have it for free, since we’ve wasted her time arguing with this woman.” *makes a shooing motion at the woman* “Leave. Now.”

(The woman sputters a bit then tries to argue, but [Friend’s Husband] interrupts her.)

Friend’s Husband: “Get off of my property right now, or I’m calling the police to get your dumb a** off it.”

(The woman throws down the other items she’s been holding, then stomps off to her car and speeds off.)

Me: *blinks* “Okay… erm… Well, I’d like to pay for my stuff here, and that embroidery floss, please. I think I’ve got like $5 worth of stuff.”

Friend’s Husband: “Nah, honey-child, we’re giving you the bag of thread, and a discount besides, because that woman was awful. Your total is $2.”

Friend: *mutters something* “And that’s why I hate when tourists stop at my sales.”

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