I’m paying at the counter at a large clothing store. There’s a sign up, bold and prominent, saying:
Sign: “We cannot accept returns on underwear and intimates for any reason. All sales on these items are FINAL SALE.”
Me: “I can’t believe you have to have that sign up. Surely that’s common sense.”
Employee: “That’s not even that bad. I have a second job, and we have the same sign up there, too.”
Me: “Where is the second shop?”
Employee: “A sex shop.”
Eww.
I worked at Abercrombie and Fitch a few years ago. I was on the register, ringing a lady up:
Me: “Your total is [almost $100].”
She hands me a $50 bill. After realizing she wasn’t planning on adding more money to it:
Me: “That’s not enough.”
Customer: “That’s all I can do, take it or leave it.”
Me: “Ma’am, this is an Abercrombie & Fitch, not a yard sale. If my choices are take it or leave it, you’re not getting a gold star for correctly guessing which of those two I’m going with…”
She did not like my choice.
It is February. A lady comes up to my register with about ten items, most of which are on sale. The first few items scan fine, but then I scan a woman’s dress that comes up as regular price.
Customer: “Hey! Why isn’t that discounted?!”
Me: *After double-checking.* “It’s not on sale in the system.”
Customer: “But I found it under a sign that says it was 70% off!”
I call for someone to do a price check in the women’s clothing department. No one finds any 70% off sign there, and I relay this info to the customer.
Customer: “No! It’s 70% off. I know it is!”
Since it’s quiet, I ask her:
Me: “Can you show me where you found the dress?”
She walks over to the kids’ section, which is on the other side of the store, and shows a 70% off sign for a box of off-season little plastic toys and trinkets.
Customer: “See 70% off. I found it here, it’s 70% off!”
Me: “Ma’am, what part of a box of discounted plastic Christmas stocking stuffers made you think that a $300 dress belonged there?”
Customer: “I don’t come here to think! I come here for discounts!”
I’m folding up some clothes in the clothing store where I work. I’ve finished, so I turn to a coworker and say triumphantly:
Me: “I finished!”
At that moment, a customer standing nearby literally pushes a pile of folded sweaters onto the floor.
Customer: *Pointing at the messy pile on the floor.* “You’re still open for another half hour, so I’ve given you something to do. Can’t have you just sitting around doing nothing!” *Walks away.*
Coworker: “The more people I meet, the more I love my cat.”
My manager walks over, suppressing a smile. We’ve known each other so long that our conversations are about 99% sarcasm at this point:
Manager: “Okay, so I just spoke to the ultra-religious woman who just walked out with her husband?”
Me: “The one wearing the cross you could see from space? The one that stares daggers at me every time she comes in?”
Manager: “That’s the one. She complained about you and your “low cut top”.”
He did the air quotes.
Me: “I’m wearing a simple V-neck t-shirt.”
Manager: “I know. She said you were trying to seduce her husband, and if she still sees you working here next week, she’ll never bring her husband in here ever again.”
Me: “Oh, gee. So I guess in order to create a safe shopping environment for the bored-looking sixty-year-old dude who is so bored every time he comes here, he sleeps on the display couch, you’re gonna have to let me go, right?”
Manager: “Yeah, sorry. Good luck out there. Might want to cover those ankles and wrists on the bus home. Might send some old husbands wild.”