Price TAG! Caught You

, , , , , , | Right | July 10, 2018

(A young man has been hovering around the counter while all the staff have been busy with other customers. He’s acting a little oddly, but I’m serving someone else, and I tell him I’ll be with him in just a moment. By the time I’m free, he’s disappeared. I’m feeling suspicious, so I head towards the back of the shop and find him at the corner of the second to last aisle of books.)

Me: “Hi! So sorry to keep you waiting. Can I help you with anything?”

Customer: *stuttering and still acting oddly* “Oh, yeah… um, what’s the price on this book?”

(He holds out one of the little gift books we keep down at the counter. I flip it over, and surprise, surprise, the price tag is missing. Without even looking, I reach around the corner of the aisle and find the price tag, which was stuck on the edge of a shelf.)

Me: “Well, it looks like it’s $9.95. Did you want to get that today?”

Customer: *backing away quickly to the door* “I’ll just have to… go get cash for that.”

Me: “Yeah, you do that. I’ll hold it at the counter for you, shall I?”

Customers Are A Pain(giver)

, , , , , , | Right | April 16, 2018

(After being in the office all morning, sorting out a problem with the tills, I finally make my way onto the shop floor. This is my first customer of the day.)

Me: *moving to the side as we pass on the stairs* “Good morning.”

Customer: “No. It’s not a good morning. I’ve got a headache and it’s raining. Can I have some painkillers?”

Me: “I’m afraid we don’t have any, and we aren’t allowed to give medication to customers.”

Customer: “But I’m in pain. Why don’t you care? Today is my first time without taking drugs and you don’t even care. You’re a monster!

(The customer then ran up the stairs, and I went down to check on my colleagues. After I have been serving for a while, the customer comes downstairs with a large book in her hands and is served by one of the new girls who works weekends. The transaction goes smoothly, with the customer shooting me dirty looks the whole time.)

Customer: “I want a bag. The real ones, not the ones you give anyone. I have money, you know.”

Colleague: “They are real bags; we don’t have any others to give you, I’m afraid.”

Customer: “Why are you afraid? You should be afraid of being young and a girl.”

Colleague: *staying very professional* “Is there anything else for you today?”

Customer: “You’re trying to cheat me! I want to see your manager. Right now!”

(I take over the transaction, much to her disgust.)

Me: “Is there a problem?”

Customer: “I want a real bag, not those plastic ones.”

Me: “As my colleague told you, these are the only ones we provide. I can double them up for you, though, if you’re worried about them breaking.”

Customer: “You know, you’re horrible. My grandfather was the most wonderful, kind, loving person in the world, and he was tortured and murdered in Germany. You are a monster, and you deserve to be tortured in Nazi Germany, you b****.”

(She storms out of the store without the book.)

Me: “I’m going back into the office for a bit.”