Quite a few years ago, I was a bartender in a corporate-style cookie-cutter restaurant. I mostly worked nights but had one regular mid-shift on Fridays. We were always super busy at the bar for lunch on Fridays and usually had quite a few of the mall workers coming in to eat and then head back to work.

Nearly every Friday, the same smug, borderline rude lady came in for lunch. Every time, she paid with exact change — zero tip. Maybe half the time, she would complain over some minor inconvenience, and more than a few times, she got a comped meal. The more I had to wait on her, the more indignant and pissed I got.

Around Christmas time, I was out and about in the mall buying for family and friends. I picked out something nice for my girlfriend at the time — a sheer top that I thought would look amazing on her. It was decently priced with it being on sale, too.

Walking up to the cashier, I was a bit surprised to run into… [Rude Lady]. Whatever. In street clothes, I felt like she barely registered who I was, or maybe she really didn’t care who was at her register — maybe both. So, I handed her a $20 bill. She examined it for a moment, turned it over twice, and even held it up to the light. Then, out came the counterfeit pen marker. I was thinking, “A bit excessive, no?”

Change should have been around a dollar and change. Surprisingly, she handed out $81 plus change.

She called for the next customer in line, so I stepped to the side for a moment in contemplation. I could honestly feel the devil on one shoulder and the angel on the other.

It took me a moment or two… but I finally let my moral compass win and stepped back in front of the register.

I nicely explained that a mistake had been made, but before I could continue, she shot me down and briskly told me in a semi-professional tone to GTFOH.

So… I did.

The way I look at it? All those lost tips and the money she had just gifted me were just Karma. Sucked to be her, I guess.

Related:
A Fellow Retail Worker Should Know Better!

My mom owns a bridal store. There is a pleasant bride who had picked her dress and was at the store for the fitting and alteration. My mom liked to do the measurements herself whenever possible to make sure the dresses were as perfect as possible.

The young bride brought her mother to the fitting.

Mother Of The Bride: “You! Shop-girl. Are these really the best dresses you can offer?”

She did not realize that my mom owned the shop.

Mom: “Of course, our range is wide, but this is the one that your daughter selected—”

Mother Of The Bride: “Well, it’s not as good a quality material as I was told about. I expect a discount—”

Mom: “Sorry, no discounts. With the cost of the dress and the fitting, we really do offer a competitive rate.”

Bride: “Mom! This is the dress! You said you’d be good!”

The mother of the bride gave a non-committal “Hmph!”, and we continued with the fitting and alterations.

The bride came back another day to try on the dress again with her mother. The bride loved it, but her mother continued to criticize the work and ask for discounts.

Mother Of The Bride: “The way I see it, you have to do what I want because the customer is always right, and if we leave now without paying, then you’re stuck with a custom dress and no sale.”

Mom: “Very well. Leave the dress because I am going to give you a full refund. You will obviously not be happy with anything that I do. You need to leave my store and never come back.”

The bride started to cry and then told her mother to shut her mouth and leave because she loved the dress and thought it was perfect.

The mother of the bride left (angry and humiliated), and the bride apologized to my mother. They were able to finish the fitting and the sale without any more interference!

The bride came back sometime later to show my mom her wedding photos and comment on how good the dress looked. I recall my mom noticing that the mother of the bride was notably absent from all the photos…

Related:
Momzilla Of The Bride, Part 2
Momzilla Of The Bride

I work in the clothing department for a big box store. There are tables and tables of clothing that I am responsible for keeping neat and folded. I keep my head down and fold continually. A customer sees me and gasps!

Me: “Are you okay?”

Customer: “I didn’t see you working there! I was totally destroying one of your tables.”

She is standing at a table where all the neatly folded clothes have been devastated.

Me: “Well, that’s okay. You’re buying them, so you need to try them.”

Customer: “Oh… no… I just come here to destress and doing this helps!”

Me: “…”

Customer: “But hey! At least I’m providing you with job security!”

Me: “Well, I’d love to return the favor! Where do you work? If you don’t work, I could come to your home!”

Customer: *Looking worried* “Uh… bye now!” 

I wondered if I had gone too far and told my manager. He burst out laughing and said he was going to use that line and I didn’t have to worry about getting written up over it.

I work in a relatively small clothing store, usually with a coworker. Sometimes the manager is here, and sometimes he’s not. This situation happened while [Coworker] and I were putting away clothes. [Coworker] had a way of saying it like, “Put those pinks on that hanger,” and, “Let’s put those greens in that box,” which was not a problem at all.

When we were in the middle of the store putting away a type of black shirt, I started to fold and put them away in a box. [Coworker] stopped me.

Coworker: “No, don’t do that. We’re going to hang the blacks.”

A second too late, she realized what she was saying, and then her eyes went wide. The people around her (most of them Black) froze, and some turned to stare at her. After a few painful seconds, [Coworker]’s face turned red, and she looked like she was going to burst into tears when an old Black lady tottered over to her. 

Lady: “Don’t worry, hon. It’s not your fault.”

After that, [Coworker] started crying and ran into the staff room.

Ten minutes later, she came out looking ashamed and apologized sincerely to everyone who had heard what she said. She told me later that she sent the old lady a thank-you note because she left before [Coworker] came back out, and now guess who’s been coming back every month as a regular customer?

I work in a clothing store. I am friends with the manager (we started together but he got promoted), and he’s given me authorisation to “protect” him from certain situations.

A customer slams a pair of underwear on the counter, demanding a refund. They have obviously already been worn.

Me: “Sir, I can’t return these. They’re underwear.”

Customer: “So?”

Me: “We don’t do returns on undergarments.”

Customer: “I didn’t wear them under anything. I just walked around the house in them.”

Me: “The point is that we don’t do returns on underwear regardless of how they’ve been worn.”

Customer: “Are you saying I’m dirty?”

Me: “Sir, I can see skid marks on the undergarments.”

Customer: “What, you expect me to get every last bit when I wipe?”

Me: “That’s normally what wiping is for, sir, yes.”

Customer: “I want to speak to your manager!”

Me: “I am the manager, sir. We will not be processing this refund.”

Customer: “Useless!” 

The customer stormed away. When the actual manager found out what I had protected him from, he gave me a hug.