All Judgments Are Final

, , , , , , , | Right | October 10, 2012

(It’s after Halloween, so we’re having a clearance sale on Halloween decorations. A customer outside walks by the storefront window, sees the decorations, and stomps right through the entrance to me.)

Customer: “YOU! Can you explain this?” *points back to the decorations*

Me: “The Halloween decorations?”

Customer: “Don’t act dumb! Why are they still here!?”

Me: “Well, Halloween was just last week, so we still have some decorations left over. They’re on sale for 50% off.”

Customer: “How DARE you sell those devil items in the store!”

(Note: these “devil” items were plastic bags of fake spider webs, smiling cutesy ghosts ornaments, Halloween window stickers, and bat-shaped confetti.)

Me: “Um, ma’am? No offense, but we always sell those during Halloween.”

Customer: “I KNOW. I just want to know why on earth you would try to sell those AFTER Halloween!”

Me: “Well, since they’re still in stock we’re having a clearance sale and are trying to get rid of—”

Customer: “Do you worship the devil?”

Me: “What?”

Customer: “Only a devil worshiper would do such a thing! Your establishment is based on Satanism! You’re going to burn!”

Me: “Ma’am, I don’t appreciate—”

Customer: “Everything you touch is d***ed!”

(Fed up and frustrated with her offensiveness, I talk back.)

Me: “Well, ma’am, I guess that means you’re d***ed, too, since you’ve deliberately walked onto tainted soil.” *points down to where she’s standing*

(The customer’s eyes bulge out as she looks at her feet and then back at me. Then, without warning, she frantically SPRINTS OUT OF THE STORE, pushing my manager out of the way and almost knocking him down.)

Manager: “What the f*** was that about?!”


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Blowing Things Out (And Up) Of Proportion

, , , , , | Right | September 13, 2012

(When I was in 7th grade, I volunteered at a local library. My main job was to gather books for pull lists. One day when I’m checking in some books and filling out sending forms, a man and his daughter walk up to my computer. Note: the scanner I am using beeps every time I scan a book.)

Daughter: “Why is it making that beeping sound, Daddy?”

Father: “I don’t know. Maybe she’s checking them in.”

Daughter: “Really?”

Father: “No. I think she’s going to steal them.”

(I look up, confused, and I’m about to interject when the father walks over to the head librarian’s door.)

Me: “Um, sir?”

Father: “Quiet, thief!” *knocks on the librarian’s door*

Head Librarian: “What seems to be the problem, sir?”

Father: “That girl over there, who is clearly not authorized to run those machines, was stealing your books!”

Me: “I was checking them out to put them into the send boxes.”

Father: “No! I clearly saw you stuff books into your pockets!”

Coworker: “Sir, she doesn’t have any pockets.”

Father: “I meant down her shirt!”

(Note: I am wearing a tight fitting shirt. If so much as a piece of paper had been under my shirt, it would have been very visible. Needless to say, there are clearly no books under my shirt.)

Father: “Fine! If you don’t believe me, I’m calling the cops!”

Head Librarian: “Sir, she was not stealing books! Please do not call the police!”

(The father ignores the head librarian and proceeds to dial the police anyway. The operator on the other end of the phone is speaking loud enough for us to hear.)

Father: “Excuse me, I’d like to report a girl stealing books at the [Library].”

Operator: “Sir, are you a member of the library staff?”

Father: “No, but I saw it happen!”

Operator: “Well, I’m sorry, sir, but—”

Father: “…and she planted a bomb!”

Me: “What?!”

Operator: *sighs audibly* “Right. We’ll send a bomb squad…”

(Five minutes later, there is indeed a bomb squad outside the library doors. They end up having to clear out the library, search me, and go through the entire library with bomb-dogs.)

Daughter: *to her father* “How come you said she planted a bomb? She didn’t!”

(When the police heard that, they arrested the father. I got a week off.)

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Like Taking Candy From A Baby, Kids, And Everyone Else

, , , , | Right | August 30, 2012

(I’m working in my family’s store part-time while I go to college. I am 18 but look a lot like my younger sister, who is 12, and I sound younger than her, as well. It’s October, and we give out free candy to paying customers’ kids or nearby schoolkids. We have a customer who lives next door to our shop; she’s very aggressive and known for shoplifting.)

Me: “Hello, welcome to [Store].”

Customer: “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

(The customer begins taking candy from the bowl, which clearly has a sign that says, “KIDS ONLY. TAKE ONE EACH.”)

Me: “We ask you only take one or two, not a handful. A lot of kids come by and we can’t keep refilling the bowl.”

Customer: “What?! I’m getting some for my kids!”

Me: “Well, we ask you at least take six and not a handful, since I know you only have three children.”

Customer: “Y’all have plenty of candy in the store. Stop being so selfish and f****** stingy.”

Me: “It’s not being stingy. The owner is paying from their own pockets for the merchandise, and they have to feed their family on the income of this store.”

Customer: “F****** b****!”

(The customer goes off into the store to shop. Meanwhile, my coworker approaches with some small pumpkin decorations.)

Coworker: *to me* “Your father called and said to put the candies in here, so when kids come they’ll have a small gift bag. I’ll keep an eye on the customer.”

(I empty the bowl into the individual pumpkins and leave the bowl on the counter. I’m putting the last of the candy pumpkins into a box when the customer comes back with some items. She’s since eaten all of the candy she took earlier.)

Me: “Is that all?”

(I start ringing her up.)

Customer: “Yeah. What grade you in?”

Me: “I’m in college. I just graduated a few months ago.”

Customer: “Wha— Nuh-uh! How old are you?”

Me: “I’m going to turn 19 soon.”

Customer: “What? Really? You don’t look—”

(The customer starts reaching for the bowl when she notices the candy missing.)

Customer: “What the f***?! Why are y’all acting weird? I ain’t gonna take all your d*** candy.”

Me: “Oh, sorry. The owner just called with a new idea of making gift bags for the kids to give out until Halloween.”

Customer: “Well, then give me three!”

Me: “I’m sorry, but you’ve already taken enough candy for your kids.”

Customer: “Why you treating me different, huh? What the f*** is wrong with you?!”

Me: “Please tone it down and refrain from cursing. We don’t want any trouble. We are just doing as the owner asks.”

Customer: “Don’t talk back to me, you little b****! I’ll get your a** fired! Anyway, you’re too young to work here! I know you’re not f*****’ 19! You’re still in middle school, aren’t you? You’re a f*****’ liar! I’m going to call social services and tell ’em they’re hiring 12-year-olds to work here and miss school!”

Me: “I’m sorry, but if you want, you can call them. I know how old I am, and so does everyone that knows me.”

Customer: “Get me the f*****’ manager! I’ll get your a** fired SO fast!”

Me: *to my coworker* “Well, you’re the one in charge when my father isn’t here.”

Coworker: *to the customer* “Look, sweetie: this ’12-year-old’ is technically the one in charge, since she is the boss’s daughter.”

Customer: “That is bulls***!”

Coworker: *to me* “Come on, little Miss Boss. Kick her out of the store.”

Me: *nervously* “M-ma’am, w-will you kindly leave t-the store before we call security?”

Customer: “F*** YOU! I’M NEVER COMING TO THIS STORE AGAIN!”

Me: “Have a nice day!”

Coworker: “Please come again real soon!”

(After a week, I had to go full-time to college. However, I learned that my stepmother eventually had to call the cops on the customer and file a restraining order from letting her into the store.)


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Customer, Know Thyself

, , , , , , | Right | August 27, 2012

(I am a customer standing in line at the bank. Two customers behind me start complaining about the length of the line.)

Customer #1: “Look at this! It’s ridiculous!”

Customer #2: “They are moving so slow! The workers should get fired for being so lazy!”

(This goes on for a couple of minutes. When I draw even with the complaining customers in the switchbacked line, I decide I can’t take it anymore and speak up.)

Me: “Look at the windows, ladies! Every one of them has customers who didn’t take the time to fill out their slips. Now the tellers have to do it for them, and that takes twice as long! They’re the ones holding up all of us, not the nice people trying to help them!”

(I’m talking loud enough for everyone at the windows to hear, hoping maybe next time they’ll wise up.)

Customers #1 and #2: *shocked*

Me: “Let me guess. Wanna borrow my pen?”

(The complaining customers sheepishly agree and fill out their slips. Three or four others in line also grab slips and start scribbling, while the customers at the windows look suitably embarrassed. When I finally get to a teller window, she leans towards me and confides in me.)

Teller: *whispering* “Thank you, from everyone here! I wish I could save the security tape of that!”


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Just Plain Batty, Part 2

, , , , , | Right | August 23, 2012

(I work as a Sunday school teacher at my church, which I’ve been going to for the past ten years. Most of the church members know me by now, and they know I’m a goth, even though I don’t look it when I’m working. This happens when a new member notices I am wearing a bat necklace.)

New Member: *gasps* “That’s scary!”

Me: “Excuse me?”

New Member: “You shouldn’t wear that to church. It’s scary and it’s evil! You’re corrupting the children!”

Other Member: *to the new member* “It’s just a bat; bats aren’t evil.”

New Member: “It’s a vampire, and vampires are from Satan!”

(I put my necklace into my shirt so no one can see it. After church, the pastor comes up to me.)

Pastor: “Where’s your necklace? Did you lose it?”

Me: “Someone complained about it because it was ‘scary,’ so I tucked it into my shirt.”

Pastor: “That’s stupid. I’d hate to have her see what you have planned for the kids this Halloween!”


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