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Checking Later Won’t Save Me The Unnecessary Money Now, Will It?

, , , , , , | Working | October 4, 2022

There’s a chain pet supply store a few blocks away from my home. The staff is usually very friendly and helpful. This time… not so much.

I was looking into buying some pet food that I found on their website. The online sale price was 10,99€ a bag, and I needed six of them. They weren’t deliverable for another couple of days, so I decided to walk over to the store. They happened to have it in stock, but for 12,99€. Most of their stock is slightly more expensive than the online store, but I don’t mind; the store generates jobs and I’m happy to have a place nearby where I can get good quality food.

So, I dragged my bulky, heavy stuff to the counter to pay, and I was shocked at how much it rang up to.

Me: “Is that right? They rang up as 39,99€ a piece! They were 10,99€ online, and your sign says 12,99€. Is there some kind of mistake in the system?”

Cashier: “Yeah… maybe.”

Me: “Could you look it up, please? That’s quite the difference.”

Cashier: “Sure, I will look it up later. 239,94€, please.”

Me: *A bit surprised* “Could you please check now?”

Cashier: “I will look it up later.”

I assume the cashier had some kind of brain fart; he’s always been great otherwise. I left the store empty-handed and ordered the food online a few days later for about 66€.

Next Time, I’ll Order A Mind-Reading Machine

, , , , , | Working | September 29, 2022

I place an order on a large retailer’s website. The item is not as described, and I decide to return it to the store. I open the email with return instructions and the code the cashier needs to process everything.

Me: “Hello. I ordered this online and would like to return it. Here is the barcode for the return.”

Cashier: “Marketplace items need to be returned in a shippable box. That’s not boxed at all.”

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t read that in the return instructions.”

I quickly glance through the email.

Me: “I didn’t even think about it since I thought you would need to see the item I’m returning.”

Cashier: “Well, it’s not in the instructions they send in the emails, but it needs to be in a box that I just have to put a label on.”

Me: “If it’s not in the directions, how was I supposed to know that?”

Cashier: *Raising their voice, practically yelling* “I don’t know! I keep sending suggestions to corporate to include it, but they don’t. I guess I’ll have to find another box since no one cares enough to bring items in boxes.”

Me: “Thanks.”

Weird, But… Right? We Guess?

, , , , , | Working | September 28, 2022

My family and friends enjoy fast food, and one particular burger place is a staple. There are several locations around us, but the most convenient one is just up the street. That location is cursed. Random things always happen whenever we go there. I once had a gentleman knock on my window while I was ordering and ask if I liked my car. You get the drift.

My girlfriend and I arrive at around 8:00 pm one night to purchase food. It is right around a specific Irish holiday, and the restaurant is selling a milkshake that is green and minty. I order one to try it as I have not had one in a very long time.

When we pull up to the window to pay, the cashier repeats the order back to us. She stops at the milkshake and exclaims:

Cashier: “UGH, you drink this? It is disgusting!”

Me: *A bit taken aback* “Not yet, but I wanted to try it. Is it that bad?”

Cashier: “I drank a shot of the syrup earlier and it was disgusting.”

Me: *Stunned* “That is concentrated mint! Of course it is going to taste like crap.”

Cashier: *Handing me our food* “Oh. I guess that makes sense. Maybe I will have to try it normal.”

I just shook my head and left.

The shake tasted like crap, by the way, which is odd because I love mint.

A Whole Backpack Load Of Annoying

, , , , , , | Working | September 27, 2022

My mom and I are shopping at [Membership Warehouse Store]. I need a new backpack, and Mom is willing to make it an early Christmas present for me, seeing as I never have any clue what I want besides money for food and such. (Poor college girl presents, yay!)

We pick out a good backpack and shop around a little more, getting a few other things. We then head up to the cash register. For those that don’t know about [Membership Warehouse Store], in order to buy their stuff, you have to have a card. There are multiple tiers of membership, and they can be Personal, Business, Corporate, etc. It’s also not uncommon to have a parent come in with kids. The oldest kid may push a cart for family purchases on the parent’s Personal account, while the parent pushes a cart to be purchased on the Business card. As long as the name is the same on both cards (i.e., not using someone else’s account), the company has never had problems with this.

We get up to the cashier, and Mom wants to put my backpack on a separate bill. She has two membership cards: one shared between her and Dad for the everyday family stuff and one that’s just hers for fun stuff, Christmas gifts, etc. They’re the same tier, but both have her name.

The cashier doesn’t want to let us do that. This immediately puts my mom on high alert, because this is something she always does.

Mom: “I always do this. Why can’t I do this now?”

Cashier: “You can’t let other people use your card, ma’am. “

Mom: “I’m not. I’m buying it for her; she’s not buying it.”

Cashier: “We can do a subtotal…”

Mom: “Both accounts I’m using are mine. I’m even using the same debit card. I’m not using her money; I’m using mine.”

Cashier: “Well, I heard you asking if that backpack was okay.”

Mom: “She’s my daughter. I can’t get a Christmas present for my daughter on my account?”

Cashier: *Snotty tone* “Well, I don’t know that she’s your daughter.”

Mom: “It shouldn’t matter. Both accounts have my name and my photo on them, and I’m paying with my own debit card. We’re not breaking any rules.”

The cashier then speaks in a tone that suggests she’s now just being spiteful.

Cashier: “Well, you still can’t do that. You can get a subtotal and pay for it on one account, or you can show me her—” *pointing rudely at me with a jabbing finger* “—membership card.”

I was just getting annoyed with the cashier because really, it wasn’t any of her business. Either the cashier should have backed off when Mom explained or she should’ve gotten her manager.

Instead, the cashier kept pushing, saying she needed to put it on a subtotal, which was not what Mom wanted. Mom finally demanded to see a manager and explained what was going on while the cashier was still arguing and getting catty.

The manager looked really confused at why there was even an issue as my mom explained. She showed him both membership cards and her debit card. He gave them all a cursory look, confirmed that all three had the exact same name on them, and then gave the cashier an exasperated look. He stepped in, rang our purchases as my mom asked, handed over the receipts, and apologized for the trouble.

Apparently, You Don’t Even Get Points For Effort

, , , , , | Working | August 31, 2022

I met a German woman in the USA, and we married after a year. For complicated reasons not worth expanding on, her ex-husband had two of her four children in Germany while she had the other two in the US. She was deeply depressed over not being able to see them; this was 1997, before video calls, texting, and social media. I made a huge decision to take her and her children back to Germany to be permanently reunited while I learned to integrate as an immigrant.

This exchange happens in a mall. My German at this point is painfully limited, and the waiting list to register for intensive German classes for immigrants is six months. The German I do know is from language books.

I hand over a piece of merchandise.

Me: *In German* “This doesn’t work. Exchange, please.”

The cashier fires off in rapid German.

Me: *In German* “Slower, please.”

She says something else in German.

Me: *In German* “I’m sorry. I don’t understand.”

She snatches the receipt out of my hand.

Cashier: *In English* “You need to learn German! You’re in Germany, not America!”

She angrily stamps the receipt and then picks up a nearby phone and summons someone over the intercom. A manager (I presume) appears, and they begin discussing something in German. I note the word “Amerikanischer” used more than once, with the manager making an exasperated “UGH!” and the cashier saying, “Ich flip gleich aus!” (Translation: “I’m about to flip out!”)

One of them gives me a small sheet to sign confirming I am turning in the merchandise, and they allow me to exchange it. I walk out of there feeling like I have been handed the “Idiot Foreigner Of The Day” award.

Fast forward a year and some change. I finally have enrolled in and completed my German integration class, and I am even voluntarily paying for an advanced German class for business and work. Put together with the fact that my wife, stepkids, and I are communicating strictly in German, it is safe to say that I have a very decent command of the language.

I’m back now in the same store in the same mall when I approach a saleswoman for help. I immediately recognize her as the woman who ripped my face off for not speaking fluent German before.

Me: *In German* “Hello, do you offer a delivery service? I’d like to buy this desktop system.”

Cashier: *In English* “Yes, we do. But it depends on the price of the item you are buying.”

Me: *In German* “Do you know how much that would be?”

Cashier: “Um… hmm!”

She picks up a phone and pages an employee.

Cashier: *In German, to the employee* “Could you explain to him in English the delivery rates and ask him when he’d like to have it delivered? My English is crap today.”

Me: “…”

It’s one of those situations where you just can’t win.