(My husband and I are at the grocery store, picking up a few things. When it’s time to pay, we choose the express checkout line.)
Cashier: “Excuse me; this line is for fifteen items or less.”
Me: “Yes, I know; I have fifteen items.”
Cashier: *gives heavy sigh* “I said; fifteen items or LESS!”
Me: *confused* “Yes, I heard you, and I have exactly fifteen items.”
Cashier: *glaring* “Fifteen items. OR LESS!”
Me: *gives up, goes to another line*
(I am out shopping in a clothing store find four items I like. I decide to buy them and even make small talk with [Cashier #1] — and [Cashier #2] who is right next to her — as she completes the sale. On my way out, the alarm goes off and the security girl finds that [Cashier #1] forgot to remove one of the security tags from a shirt. As I have worked as a cashier, I know how easily something like this can happen, and go back so they can remove it.)
Me: “Hey, you forgot to take the safety tag off one of my items.” *smiling, presenting both my bag of purchases and my receipt*
Cashier #1: *without looking at my receipt* “Yeah, that happened because you never paid me for that.”
Me: “Actually, I did, about two minutes ago. You can also scan the item and my receipt to make sure.”
Cashier #1: “No, I remember you.”
Me: *thinking she actually remembered on her own* “So, how about getting the tag so I can go?” *still smiling*
Cashier #1: “I remember you. You never paid for this. Now give it back before I call the police on you for stealing!”
Me: *starting to feel embarrassed, as she accused me of stealing in a shop full of people* “Could you just take one look at my receipt? I paid for all my purchases; you were the one who rang me up!”
Cashier #2: “She is right, [Cashier #1]; you rang up that shirt. I was right next to you and I saw her paying.”
Cashier #1: “No, she didn’t! What are you trying to do, [Cashier #2]? Help her steal? I bet that everything she wears is either stolen or secondhand!”
(I am kind of underdressed today, wearing jeans and a hoodie. I usually wear business clothes, but I am just out to run some errands.)
Cashier #2: “[Cashier #1]! You can’t say that! And you can’t be rude to our customers! Now take a look at her receipt and remove the d*** tag!”
Cashier #1: “NO! SHE IS A THIEF! SHE STOLE THIS SHIRT!”
(The manager appears to see why there is yelling at the checkout lines.)
Manager: “What is the matter here?”
Cashier #1: *smirking* “No big deal. This b**** tried to steal a shirt and wasn’t happy that I stopped her!”
Me: *already crying from embarrassment* “I never stole anything! You accused me, insulted me, and refused to look at my receipt!”
Cashier #2: “It’s true, [Manager]. The lady has paid for her shirt; I can confirm that.”
Manager: “Miss, may I see you receipt, please?”
Me: “Yes.” *hand over receipt and bag* “You can also check I don’t have another one in there.”
(The manager checks the bag, the receipt, and the shirt.)
Manager: *probably trying to smooth out the situation* “Well, it seems like there was a misunderstanding. I am terribly sorry about all this. [Cashier #1], this lady has paid for all her purchases, just the cashier who rang her up forgot to take off this tag. You should always check the receipt before making accusations! Now, miss, do you remember who your cashier was? I must remind her to double-check for tags.”
Me: “Yes, it was [Cashier #1].”
Manager: *furious now* “Please let me get this straight, [Cashier #1]. You rang her up and you forgot to remove a tag. And when she came back, you accused her of stealing the item and insulted her. Is this true?”
Cashier #1: “I… erm… Well, look at her! She looks like a d*** [Romani slur]!”
Manager: “[Cashier #1]! OFFICE! NOW! Miss, we are terribly sorry for all this.”
Me: “I accept your apologies, but can I ask you for a favour, sir?”
Manager: “Of course!”
Me: “Could you make out a gift card to [Cashier #2]? Honestly, she is your best cashier. She stood up for me to [Cashier #1], and got yelled at by [Cashier #1] for me. I really want to thank her.”
Manager: “Of course, miss!”
(I never saw [Cashier #1] there again, but I see [Cashier #2] when I shop there and she recently got promoted to manager!)
(I work at a large discount store. Apple sauce packets can be purchased either individually or by the box. I am buying a large, 24-count box, and have opened it while shopping so my child can eat one pouch as a snack. It is priced by the box, so I am paying the same amount whether one pouch is missing or not. I have folded the four flaps over each other to reclose it before checking out. The cashier then, inexplicably, reopens the box, dumps all the pouches out, and starts scanning them individually.)
Me: “Excuse me; those are sold by the box, not individually.”
Cashier: “Okay.” *continues to scan*
Me: “If you scan each one individually, it is going to take a lot longer, and—”
Cashier: *interrupts* “No, it’s fine. It will be fine.” *continues to scan*
Me: “Ma’am, I’d really rather you didn’t scan it that way, because—”
Cashier: *interrupts again* “It’s all the same. It’s fine doing it like this.”
(I’ve had enough at this point.)
Me: “Ma’am, please stop, and please let me speak. Those pouches are ringing up at $0.99 each. If you ring it up by the 24-count box, it is $13. By scanning each pouch individually, it will cost $24. Please put the pouches back in the box and start over.”
Cashier: “Well, I had no way of knowing that. Now we have to cancel it all, and it might take longer.”
Me: “Yes. I tried to stop you in the beginning, but you didn’t listen. For future reference, things are usually cheaper by the case.”
(Mistakes are no big deal. Everyone makes them. But the bad attitude was totally uncalled for.)
(I have gone into the café my family owns for a quick bite to eat while I’m on break. I have never met the cashier before, so I assume she’s new.)
Cashier: “That’s [amount], please.”
Me: “I also have the family and friends discount. My name is on the records.”
(She rolls her eyes and holds out her hand.)
Cashier: “Nice try. [Amount], please.”
Me: “No. You will get the record book, verify my name — [My Name] — and give me the discount.”
(She looks me up and down, still with her hand out.)
Cashier: “So, what are you supposed to be? Cousin? Daughter? What’s the owner called?”
Me: “That’s none of your business. Please do as I ask and get the record book. Oh, and [Husband].”
(She snorts.)
Cashier: “Impressive. I guess scammers really come prepared these days. You can either pay, or I’ll call security and have you removed.”
Me: “Security? Really? This is a small, family-owned café. We don’t have security.”
Cashier: “No, but I can get the chef. He’s beefy!”
Me: “The only chef here is [Nephew], and he’s so thin a gentle breeze could knock him over. But please, by all means, get him.”
Cashier: “Oh, um… What was your name again?”
(I give her my name again and she leaves for the kitchen. My nephew comes out and makes small talk while applying my discount and getting my change. I see the cashier poking her head above the window in the kitchen door occasionally, and I smile and wave. Later that evening when I get home, my husband talks about her.)
Husband: “She took off with the record book during her first shift. She’s adamant that she didn’t take it, but [Brother-in-Law] saw her stuff it in her bag while he was in.”
Me: “Why the hell haven’t you fired her?”
Husband: “Because I want the book back. She’ll bring it back eventually, and I can guarantee we’ll have more friends in it than before.”
(A few weeks later, the book appeared again, with 62 new names added to it. The cashier tried to act like they had always been there, but the change in handwriting and six of the names having the same surname as her was something she couldn’t argue with. We contacted her parents, who confirmed she had added their names, but under the pretense that it was family and friends of employees who also got the discount. She was promptly fired; however, her parents requested she volunteer to work for us for a month as punishment. My husband agreed and has her working with stock. Our son works in there, so hopefully she won’t think to try anything.)
(I am in line at a grocery store when a two-year-old boy starts throwing a fit in the store. He’s laying on the ground, screaming and crying. His mother, who seems very young, rushes over and picks him up to try to calm him down. The cashier ringing me up shakes her head and clicks her tongue.)
Cashier: “This is why people shouldn’t have kids so young; there’s no way they could be good parents. The father probably left her, too. That’s why she’s alone. She should be ashamed.”
Me: “Actually, she is 28 years old and just picked her son up from daycare. Her son is so grumpy because he has a fever, and she’s only in here to buy medicine for him before taking him back home to sleep. Also, her husband was at work all day and just called out early to be home with his sick child and stressed wife.”
Cashier: “Oh, yeah? And how could you possibly know all that?”
Me: *holding up the medicine I’m purchasing* “Because that’s my cousin.”
(The cashier went wide-eyed, and avoided speaking to me for the rest of the transaction. I did file a complaint against her, but it didn’t lead to anything. She’s just very awkward whenever I come into the store, and avoids me at all costs.)
