(I work at a very popular discount department store. Around three to four years ago, we began rolling out self-service registers in the middle of the store; however, we still have manned registers for larger purchases, or payments of orders in the self-service area. It is 8:00 am and I am running the only manned register open, along with overseeing the self-service, as we are always quiet at this time. A woman approaches with a single pack of underpants. She stands in the middle of the self-service area and begins waving her arms in the air.)

Me: “Can I help you?”

Customer: *huffs, turns with her back to me, arms still waving*

Me: “Excuse me! Do you need a hand?”

Customer: *stomps feet, huffs, and sighs*

Me: “Hello! Ma’am!”

Customer: “Ridiculous!” *huffs and waves arms*

Me: “EXCUSE ME!”

Customer: *turns and looks directly at me* “I guess I can just help myself to this gum here and walk off with it, if there’s no one here to help me or stop me. What are the self-service machines going to do? Stop me?”

Me: “Yeah… Please don’t steal the gum.”

Customer: “Well, who’s here to see it?”

Me: “Me… and the security cameras.”

Customer: “There is never anyone at the registers.”

Me: “I’m at the registers; I can put this through for you.”

Customer: “And how many registers were open before self-service?”

Me: “At 8:00 am? One. Always one.”

Customer: “Well, there’s no one here to help me, and I refuse to use self-service, so I guess I’m not allowed to buy these.” *leaves the pack of underpants on my register and walks off*

(We have a policy where we price match and then give ten percent off. A customer comes up to the register and shoves a smartphone with an ad under my face.)

Customer: “You have this for $400, and this website has it for $299. I want the difference and ten percent.”

Me: “Okay, I’ll have to verify that.”

(I check the ad, which is on a rather questionable-looking website, and note that while it does say the item costs $299, the link to actually buy it links back to my store’s website where the price is $400.)

Me: “Well, sir, I know it says that, but if you click to buy it, it takes you to my store’s site where it’s $400.”

Customer: “But you have a price match guarantee!”

Me: “Yes, but I can’t price match myself.”

Customer: “That’s stupid! Why can’t you match it?”

Me: “Because they’re not actually selling it for that price.”

Customer: “Well, they say they are! It shouldn’t matter!”

Me: “Well, actually, it does. Anyone could post a picture and a price for something online and claim it costs that much.”

Customer: “And why would someone do that? God, you’re so stupid! I can’t believe [Store] hires idiots like you! I’m going to [Competitor].”

Me: “Okay. I’ll let them know you’re coming.”

I had shown up about 10 minutes before the store opened since I was the morning jewelry person that day. Our store has an outside door which leads into a vestibule and then there’s another set of doors that actually leads into the store. We leave only one door open for the outside set for the associates to get into but then you have to wait after pressing a doorbell for the second door to get unlocked by someone inside so random people won’t come in while we are closed. As I’m waiting, I notice a woman and her teenage daughter come up and try to open the outside door.
Me: Ma’am just so you know, the store is closed and won’t open for another ten minutes.
Customer: Then why the hell is the door open?
Me: It’s so the associates can get into the building and wait in here in case it’s raining.
Customer: It’s incredibly misleading and I don’t like your attitude.
Me: I’m sorry but there’s nothing I can do.
She then storms away with her daughter trailing after her. I have no idea what they needed so bad at 8:30 in the morning.

Four Cents

These look good. As I gazed in the mirror while trying on a pair of blue jeans in one of the many dressing rooms in the men’s division of Kohl’s department store in North Canton, Ohio, on this autumn evening in 1996, something suddenly crossed my mind. I verified the price tag. Eighteen fifty. I should have enough … even with tax.
I changed back into the jeans I wore into the store. Waiting in one of the checkout lines, I pulled my wallet from my rear, right pocket and slid my $20 bill out. When it was my turn, I laid the jeans on the counter.
“Hi,” I said to the female employee behind it who looked to be in about her mid-40s.
“Hi,” she said in a solemn tone, face down.
Waiting for the woman, who looked to be in somewhat of a hurry, to ring up my purchase, I handed her the twenty.
“Twenty dollars and four cents,” she said.
Whoops.
“Uh, you know what?” I asked her rhetorically with half a smile. “I only have a twenty. I didn’t think it’d be more than $20.” There’s gotta be one of those penny things (for customers who are short a penny or two … or four in my case).
“It came to $20.04,” she said grimly.
“Oh … well … I don’t have any change, uh … .” C’mon, what the hell’s four cents?
“Don’t you have a checkbook?” she asked in a rather testy tone.
“Yeah … but … .”
“Well, you have enough in their to cover the jeans, don’t you?”
“Uh … no,” I said, hoping no one heard me and thinking maybe I was on Candid Camera.
This’ll do it. “My checkbook’s out in my car. … I suppose I could go out and get it … and write you a four-cent check,” I said with sarcasm oozing out of me. I couldn’t believe this was happening and was sure this little bluff would bring this dame to her senses.
The woman said nothing. She just sighed. She may as well have had a sign on her forehead that read, “Beware, I’m PMSing it today.”
So out to my car I went. As I walked out of the store, I was dumbfounded. I can’t believe this bitch is actually lettin’ me do this. … It’s fuckin’ rainin’!
After fetching my checkbook I sloshed back into the store, rainwater dripping from my head. I laid the checkbook on the counter and asked the woman, who by now looked so irritated with the matter that I honestly thought she was going to explode, for a pen. She handed me one, but not without an attitude.
“Thanks,” I uttered half under my breath in a tone intended to make the woman believe I thought I was burdening her by simply requesting a writing utensil. By now, there was a line behind me. Let’s just get this over with and get outta here. As I was about to write the amount of the check in the space that called for spelling the sum out, I looked up at the lady.
“Uh … I’ve never written a four-cent check before,” I chuckled. “I don’t know how to do it. … Do you?”
The woman – er, witch – offered a sigh that could be deciphered in one way and one way only: @%#$&*! Then, suddenly, I heard a soft, sweet voice from behind me. “Need four cents?”
I’d never been so happy to hear any three words my entire life. They’d come from a young woman waiting in line directly behind me.
“Yeah! … I appreciate it,” I said, happily accepting the young lady’s kind offer.
“Here you go,” I said to the female worker, handing her the pennies. “Hope it wasn’t too much of an inconvenience.”
Again, the sarcasm was simply gushing.
She took the money, placed the twenty and the four pennies in the register, bagged my pants, and virtually chucked them at me, nary a word … nor glance. She was sick of me. But guess what? I was fed up with her, too.
I waited for the nice girl who’d come to my rescue to complete her purchase. As we left the store together, I again acknowledged her kindness, and then glancing back at Ms. Bad Mood, uttered half under my breath, hoping she heard me, “She’s prob’ly just havin’ one of those days.”
Boy, do I hope it continues.

Moral of the story: Always carry change.

Customer: “Hi. I’m looking for the best saucepans you sell.”

Me: “Okay, great. This is our top brand here that [Famous Chef] endorses…”

(I point out a name brand with a 50-year guarantee and explain some of the features.)

Me: “The five-piece set is on special for $499.95 today because of our big sale. I really like this set; I bought it myself because it was such a good price and with such a long warranty, I’ll probably never have to buy another one.”

Customer: “Hmm, that’s nice. But it’s a little expensive. Do you have something that’s still very good, but cheaper?”

(I take the customer to our next best brand, with similar features but $100 cheaper. Again, he seems interested but says it’s too expensive. I show him a couple more that are cheaper, again with the same result.)

Customer: “Basically, I’m looking for your best, cheapest set.”

Me: *laughs* “Well, unfortunately, here it’s kind of one or the other.”

(The customer gives me a blank look.)

Me: “The general rule I tell customers here is, ‘You get what you pay for.’ The more expensive it is, the higher the quality and the longer the warranty, so the best sets are the most expensive.”

Customer: “Yeah, but I want a good, cheap one.”

(I give in and show him some of our mid-range sets which are a good value for money. Twenty minutes later…)

Customer: “No, no, these are all much too expensive. Who would ever pay $150 for a set of saucepans and frying pans?”

(As he was walking out, he went past our home-brand range of cookware on the clearance table. All the pieces were marked down to $5 each because they were such terrible quality that no-one was buying them; a baked bean tin would have more metal in it than these things. He suddenly got excited and bought one of everything. I guess I should be happy that SOMEONE  wanted them!)