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Get Her To Her Best Friend’s Wedding On Time

, , , , | Right | May 16, 2022

It is the nineties. I work at a movie theater with sixteen screens. An elderly woman approaches me.

Woman: “What time is the movie?”

Me: “That depends. Which movie are you looking for?”

Woman: “You know, the movie! The movie!”

Me: “Um…”

Woman: “The movie with Judy.”

I don’t remember the rest of our conversation, but eventually, I figured out that the movie she was referring to was “My Best Friend’s Wedding.” “Judy” was Julia Roberts.

When The Mother And The Manager Deserve Each Other

, , , , | Right | October 20, 2021

I work in an indoor amusement park at a little hut on the way into our mini-golf course. We sell merchandise from the hut with the park’s name on it.

The park has a three-write-up system for employees; get written up three times and you’re fired. I’m a good employee who always works hard, but my boss hates me for reasons I’ve never known, and at this point in the summer, he’s already written me up twice.

A middle-aged woman runs in, absolutely frantic.

Guest: *Yelling* “You need to give me a shirt!”

Me: “Uh, well, we have T-shirts on that wall there, and sweatshirts—”

Guest: “No, I’m not buying a shirt. Your park owes me a shirt, and you’re going to give it to me!”

Me: “What?”

Guest: “The idiots in the food court didn’t put the lid on my son’s soda tight enough, and now he’s spilled it all over his shirt, so you need to give me a new one!”

Me: “I’m sorry to hear that happened, but I can’t give away merchandise. Tell you what. Let me radio for a manager, and we’ll see if there’s anything he can do.”

I pick up the walkie-talkie and call for [Boss]. No answer. I call for him again. Nothing. Meanwhile, the guest is becoming more and more irate, tapping her foot, and making huffing noises.

Guest: “My son is just standing there in the food court, dripping wet!”

Me: *Into my walkie-talkie* “[Boss], please come to mini-golf! Or if anyone sees [Boss], can you please tell him to come to mini-golf?

Again, silence.

Guest: “This is ridiculous! I’m taking this!”

She grabs a shirt from the wall and runs out of the booth.

Boss: *On the walkie-talkie* “This is [Boss]; go ahead.”

I quickly explain to [Boss] on the walkie-talkie what has happened, and I tell him that if he can meet me at the food court, I’ll point out the customer to him. [Boss] and I arrive at the food court at the same time and he’s carrying another shirt. I point the guest out and immediately see why the problem started: loose lid or not, this woman bought a thirty-two-ounce soda for a kid who could not be older than four. Of course, it spilled!

Boss: “Ma’am, I heard what happened, and I’m sorry, but I can’t let you keep that shirt. However, we happen to have another shirt leftover from a corporate event, and if you want, I can give you that shirt, instead.”

He holds out the T-shirt he’s carrying, and at first, this sounds like a pretty good solution, until he unfurls it and we see that it’s an adult extra-large. This makes her FURIOUS.


Boss: “Well, I know it’ll look a little silly, but if he tucks it into his shorts—”


With this, she pulls the park shirt off of her son, throws it at me, and replaces it with the extra-large.

Boy: “Mommy, it’s too big.”

Guest: “I know it’s too big! I know, but that’s what this man wants you to wear!” *Turns to [Boss]* “And you know what? If we were to go running in the park, and if he were to trip and, I don’t know, smack his little head—”

I swear to you, when she said, “smack his little head,” she actually smacked her son on the forehead!

Guest: “—then we would have to sue the park for giving him this shirt!”

She turns back to her son.

Guest: “Come on, let’s go! Let’s go running! You want to go climb on the jungle gym? Let’s go climb on the jungle gym!”

She runs off with [Son], leaving behind their pizza, one ginormous spilled soda, and an entire food court staring at [Boss] and me. [Boss] turns to me, seething.

Boss: “You’re getting written up for this.”

Me: “What? What did I do?”

Boss: “You gave away merchandise and that’s not allowed.”

Me: “But I didn’t! I didn’t give anything away; she came in and took the shirt!”


Me: “So, that’s my third write-up. Are you telling me I’m fired?”

Again, the ENTIRE FOOD COURT is watching this conversation. [Boss] thinks for a moment.

Boss: “You’re not fired. But you’re hanging by a thread.”

Me: “Why? This wasn’t my fault—”

Boss: “I said DON’T ARGUE.”

He stormed off. I returned to the mini-golf booth and spent the day cursing him out in my mind. I never saw the guest or her son again, and I doubt they sued the park.

I quit a month later when I left for college, and I never saw [Boss] again. I heard from former coworkers that [Boss] ended up being fired for having an affair with a sixteen-year-old employee.

Speaking Flatly

, , , , | Right | July 29, 2021

One evening, I’m returning items from the front to their shelves when I pass by sewing notions and am stopped by an older woman. As a note, I’ve been blessed with — or cursed with, depending on your perspective — large breasts.

Customer: “Excuse me. Can you help me with something?”

Me: “Oh, yeah, absolutely! What did you need help with?”

Customer: “I’m altering a dress for my granddaughter, but she doesn’t really have a lot going on up top.”

She places her hands over her own breasts to make it clear I know what she means.

Customer: “So, I know I have to use some kind of insert, but I’m not sure which to use. What do you recommend?”

I look down at my own chest and then look back up.

Me: “Ma’am, I’ve never had to worry about that, but—”

She looks down at my chest while I start speaking and then cuts me off before I can finish my offer to ask a coworker for her.

Customer: *Cutting me off* “Oh! I’m sorry! I’ll go ask someone flatter!”

She wandered off without giving me a chance to say anything else.

This Is Why You Don’t Talk To Customers

, , , , , , | Right | April 29, 2021



I’m working at the counter at a store having a pleasant conversation with a customer. We exchange pleasantries, and I admit it’s been a bit of a long month and I’m looking forward to it being over.

Customer: “Oh, no! What’s wrong?”

Me: “It’s a long story. Now, how much of this did you need?”

Customer: “What’s going on, honey?” 

After another few attempts to get her to focus on the task at hand only for her to continue digging at why it’s been a long month, I just sigh and give up in an attempt to placate her.

Me: “My mother-in-law’s been in the hospital. She had to have from just above the knee down amputated and she almost died because an infection was misdiagnosed. Her sister had a heart attack and the funeral was Saturday and there were a lot of questions as to whether my mother-in-law could attend. My nephew is finally being assessed so he can get his autism diagnosis, and someone almost started a big fire in my apartment building last night.”

Customer: “Oh, no! How’s your mother-in-law doing now?”

Me: “She’s doing better; things are rough obviously. And they’re keeping a close eye on her leg since diabetes can—”

Customer: “You know she’s going to die, right?”

Me: “Pardon?”

Customer: “She’s not taking care of herself; that’s why she has diabetes and lost her leg. This had better serve as a wake-up call!”

Me: “Ma’am, she was in an accident. There was a cut on her foot and when she went to a doctor about pain in the area, he didn’t even look at the cut and told her it was gout. The infection killed tissue in her foot and leg. The first hospital accidentally gave her an almost lethal overdose of painkillers and neglected the leg to the point where she was transferred to a second hospital and had more of her leg amputated. She’s been taking care of herself as best she can, given the circumstances.” 

Customer: “Yeah, well, just be ready when she dies.”

The rest of the conversation was short and clipped, just trying to get her order done. My mother-in-law is still going almost a year later.

No ID, No Idea, Part 42

, , , | Right | March 3, 2021

I am working a seasonal position as a cashier at a resort town grocery store. Our store requires a valid ID on all checks and has been that way since the opening. I have finished ringing up the order and ask how the customer will pay.

Customer: “I’ll pay with a check.”

Me: “Okay, may I see an ID with the check?”

Customer: “Why? They don’t make me do that.”

Me: “Sir, it’s our store policy.”

Customer: “No, it’s not. I’ve been coming to this store since it opened, and it’s never been like that! Where is the notice of change?”

Keep in mind, I was trained to handle policy questions.

Me: “Sir, it has been that way since the store opened, and here is the notice.”

I reach around to the front of the register and point to the General Notice board where it clearly states the same thing. He tries to argue, but I keep reiterating my last statement.

Me: “Sir, if you are upset, you can speak to a manager, but it will be a wait as they are all busy.”

Customer: “Fine. But I’ll be calling corporate about this.”

Corporate gave him the same answer he gave me. I never saw the guy in the store again as long as I worked there.

No ID, No Idea, Part 41
No ID, No Idea, Part 40
No ID, No Idea, Part 39
No ID, No Idea, Part 38
No ID, No Idea, Part 37