I am in the middle of checking a woman out at the registers when the code for a missing child is called. People spring into action blocking doors, and on our walkies, we are given a description of the missing child. I can hear the mom panicking not that far away. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a child matching the description. I apologize to my customer and tell her I am going to step away for a moment. I walk five feet away to ask the child for their name.

Thankfully, the mother who has been nearby hears me asking the kid and comes rushing over, sobbing over the child. The missing child alarm is canceled, and everything is right in the world.

I stepped away from the register for literally around twenty seconds.

Customer: “That was extremely unprofessional, you know.”

Me: “I’m sorry?”

Customer: “I am your customer, and I am spending money. Your focus should be on me and not wandering away.”

Me: “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but there was a missing child. A child being potentially kidnapped will always be more important than buying new clothes.”

I was working seasonally at a department store. One night, there was a dude who was super high in the store right before closing, and I had to tell him to bring his stuff up front.

He proceeded to ask me personal questions, and he learned my name from my tag. When he was checking out, he told my coworker that I was pretty cute.

An hour later, when I was leaving, the guy was sitting in his car in the first spot by the door, and he waved me over to get into his car.

I went back inside and talked to the closing manager.

Closing Manager: “Oh, I know that guy. He’s harmless.”

I was seventeen!

I’m working in the perfume section of a department store. A lost-looking gentleman approaches me.

Customer: “I’m here to get a fragrance for my son.”

Me: “How lovely! What is it called? I’ll be happy to find that for you.”

Customer: “Sausage.”

Me: “…pardon me?”

Customer: “It’s called Sausage. I’ve been told it’s quite popular.”

Me: “I… I don’t think we have that fragrance.”

Customer: “My wife told me that you did! She even wrote it down for me!”

He hands me a crumpled-up piece of paper with some writing scribbled down on it. The handwriting is awful, but I think I can make out what is written there.

Me: “Sir, I believe that word is ‘Sauvage.”

Customer: “No, no, I’m pretty sure it’s Sausage.”

Me: “Sir, unless your son wants to go out with his friends smelling like a sausage, I’m pretty sure it’s ‘Sauvage.’”

Customer: “…you might be right.”

He bought the cologne, and it didn’t smell like sausages.

Related:
Never Sausage A Thing Before, Part 4
Never Sausage A Thing Before, Part 3
Never Sausage A Thing Before, Part 2
Never Sausage A Thing Before

I work in a big department store as a receiving associate. We get large box trucks full of items, and almost none of them are on pallets, mostly so they can stuff more items into the forty-foot trailer.

Typically, in this store, we have one person loading items on a conveyor belt, one person shoving items down to the end, and four or five people unloading and sorting.

I have this one coworker, who is… lazy. I mean, I’m lazy, too, but I take shortcuts wherever I can. He hides in the racks and plays with his phone while the rest of us work.

One fine, fine day, the store manager pops through and watches us sluggishly make our way through the items for a bit and moves on.

The lazy coworker decides now’s the best time to go use the restroom. The boss came through and saw him working, so he should be safe from another surprise inspection, right?

I step in, directing my coworkers on how to best fill in the slack that was just left, and we keep going. People still need their knickknacks and geegaws, yeah?

Thirty minutes later, the manager comes back through and watches us for a few minutes.

Manager: “Hey, things picked up in pace back here. Good job!”

Me: “Thanks, but no time to chat. We’re behind.”

Manager: “Where’s [Lazy Coworker]?”

Me: “I think he went to the bathroom. Haven’t seen him in twenty minutes.”

Manager: “Yeah? Hm. All right, then.”

He walks off and I think nothing of it. We wrap up the unloading and go to lunch, and as we gather around for the briefing of what we’re doing for the rest of the shift, I notice that [Lazy Coworker] isn’t there. In fact, he never comes back!

Instead, the manager is there.

Manager: “You may notice that [Lazy Coworker] is absent. He no longer works for the company.”

Me: “Might I ask why?”

[Manager] hits me with the smuggest smirk.

Manager: “I can’t talk about that. Just know we’re going our separate ways.”

I work the collections desk at our store. Customers order items online and collect them from me. A man comes up to me with a collection slip for a pricey TV.

Me: “Thank you, sir, and can I see some ID, Mister… Wong?”

The inflection at the end is because as I read the name, I realize my customer is very much Caucasian. I try not to racially stereotype a name, but this makes me all the more sure I need to ask for ID.

Customer: “I don’t have ID. Just get my TV!”

Me: “Sir, we need to see ID to ensure that you are the collection slip holder: Mister… Wong.”

Customer: “Yes, that’s me! This is my slip!”

Me: “Sir, there is also a cellphone number on the system registered with this online order. Do you mind if I call it?”

Customer: “My phone is in the car! Just get me my TV!”

Me: “I’m afraid I won’t be able to do that, sir. Please come back with some ID.”

The customer swears and storms off. I call the number on the system.

Me: “Hello, can I speak to Mr. Wong, please?”

Mr. Wong: “Yes, speaking.”

Straight away, I can hear this is a different man. He has an English accent.

Me: “This is [My Name] from [Department Store]. You have a TV to pick up from us?”

Mr. Wong: “That’s right! I’ve been so busy, but I can come and pick it up tonight if that’s okay?”

Me: “That’s fine, sir, but I have to ask, do you have your collection receipt with you?”

Mr. Wong: “I left it on my receipt bowl. It should be… Hmm… It’s not here.”

Me: “Sir, I have to tell you that someone just tried to claim your item from us. We had to reject the collection as they had no ID.”

Mr. Wong: “Tall guy, ginger? Maybe wearing blue overalls?”

Me: “Yes to the first two.”

Mr. Wong: “I had the plumbers in this morning; he was one of them. They did the job and left their business card, but it looks like they traded it with my collection slip.”

Me: “I… see.”

Mr. Wong: “I’ll come and collect the TV tonight. But first I need to call the police. Your name was [My Name], yes? Thank you.”

He does indeed come and collect the TV that night. He tells me the police were called, and the guy was arrested; he still had the collection slip on him.

Mr. Wong: “It’s ironic. We got this as a second TV because my wife loves certain shows, and I hate them.”

Me: “Why is that ironic?”

Mr. Wong: “They’re all crime dramas!”