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Fine, We’ll Just Shout And Yell

, , , | Right | May 25, 2008

Customer: “I think it’s very rude for you to talk on your cellphone while you’re at work.”

Me: “No, ma’am, this isn’t a cellphone; it’s a headset. We use them to communicate with the other employees.”

Customer: “That’s VERY rude.”

Shortest. Honeymoon. Ever.

, , , | Right | April 17, 2008

(A woman approaches me at the cash desk and pulls out a pair of underwear to return.)

Woman: “I’d like to return this.”

Me: “I’m very sorry, but we cannot accept returns on intimate apparel.”

Woman: “Why not? I haven’t worn it.”

Me: “It’s against our company policy for health reasons.”

Woman: “Well this is ridiculous! I bought these to wear on my honeymoon and I didn’t end up wearing them, so now they’re useless!”

(The woman storms out of store, leaving the underwear on the counter.)

Me: *wonders just what happened on the honeymoon*


This story is part of the Underwear roundup!

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Read the Underwear roundup!

At Least She’s Being Honest

, , | Right | March 24, 2008

(A lady comes in with a bag of shirts.)

Lady: “I need to return these.”

Me: “Sorry we can’t take those back, they’re opened…”

Lady: “Why the h*** not!?”

Me: “You can only return the shirts if they’re unopened. It’s the store policy.”

Lady: “Bull-s***, you’re trying to rip me off! You’re supposed to take these back; they don’t fit my husband!”

Me: “If you read the policy you would know you couldn’t bring them back, ma’am.”

Lady: “What store policy?!”

(I point to the store policy above and behind me on a red sign in big white letters. The lady snatches the bag of shirts and starts stomping off. My manager, who was watching the whole time, finally says something.)

Manager: “I’m sorry, ma’am, next time you should read the policy–”

Lady: *cuts off my manager* “I DON’T F**KING READ!!”

Oooh, A Different Top

, , , | Right | March 15, 2008

(The company was running a coupon special for 20% off one item ONE COUPON PER PERSON. This one heavily made-up woman caused problems at every coupon sale I ever worked there and this time was no different. She made one purchase and then this happened.)

Woman: “How many of these can I use?”

Me: “It’s one per person, so no more today, but there is another coupon for tomorrow so you can come back and use one then.”

Woman: “What if I send my husband in? Can he use one?”

Me: “Yes, ma’am. He is a different person so that’s fine.”

Woman: “Well, how many can he use?”

Me: “One. It’s one per person.”

Woman: “What if I buy something else?”

Me: “Well you can buy whatever you want, but you can’t use another coupon. It’s one person for the whole day, not one per transaction.”

Woman: “What if I leave and come back in?”

Me: “You’re still the same person.”

Woman: “What do you mean? I’ll have left and come back.”

Me: “Well our doors are not equipped to change your genetic make-up upon entry, so you would still be the same person.”

(The woman stormed off, then returned 20 minutes later wearing a different top. For some reason, she decided to come through my lane again. I refused to let her use it, so she screamed at me and my manager. Eventually, she just wadded up the coupon, hit my manager in the face with it, and ran off cursing…only to return the next morning and repeat the scenario.)


This story is part of the Confused-By-Coupons roundup!

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Read the Confused-By-Coupons roundup!

A Bad Day To Be A Pair Of Jeans

, , , | Right | March 14, 2008

(It is about five minutes to closing on a Saturday night and we have maybe five or six employees working, all female. A new bar has just opened next door, and a drunk man wanders in.)

Drunk Man: “I need to buy some matches.”

Me: “I’m sorry sir. We don’t sell matches, only clothes.”

Drunk Man: “Well, then sell me a lighter. I need a cigarette.”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir. We don’t sell lighters or matches, just clothes.”

Drunk Man: “D*** it, just give me one.”

Me: “I don’t have one, sir, or trust me, I would.”

Drunk Man: “You lying b****! Give me a f****** match you b****!”

Me: “Sir, you need to leave, or I’m calling the police. We don’t have lighters or matches. I’m sorry, but I can’t help you.”

Drunk Man: “I’ll get it myself!”

(He storms off toward the men’s department. I call my coworker in that department, then call the manager to give them a heads up. A few minutes later, the man goes running out, empty-handed, and my coworker is racing after him. She grabs my phone and starts screaming over the intercom for our manager. I asked her what happened.)

Coworker: “He pissed all over the Levis!”