Dressing Down Potential Theft

| USA | Right | April 26, 2017

(I am at the register for my morning shift when a woman walks up with a dress, holding it up.)

Customer: “Should I purchase this?”

Me: “Ma’am, you can purchase anything you desire under limitations to our policy.”

Customer: “Oh, all right, then.”

(The customer stands there, thinking. Finally, she walks off. A few minutes later, the alarm goes off by the door for items that haven’t been purchased.)

Customer #2: “Did that woman decide to not purchase the item?”

Me: “I think so.”

Day-Careless, Part 2

| UK | Right | April 24, 2017

(I am heading into a department store when I notice my shoelaces are untied, and bend down just before the entrance to redo them. When I stand up there is a baby stroller next to me with what looks to be a two- to three-month-old sleeping inside. I look around and ask a couple of people going by if they know anything. None do, but a couple offer to pop inside and get help. The manager and a couple of workers come and take the child inside and make announcements over half an hour for anyone to claim him. After I have finished my shopping I go back and ask about him, and am told that the police have been informed. Cue a woman frantically running up to the counter.)

Woman: “Excuse me, I need to report a missing child. I left my son with your daycare and he’s disappeared!”

Worker: “But madam, we don’t have a daycare. We do have a—”

Woman: “But, then where is he!” *turning and somehow recognising me* “YOU! YOU KIDNAPPED MY SON!”

Me: “What are you— Oh, wait. Are you talking about the kid that was left at the entrance?”


(The police are already in the building responding to the call made by the store. The woman is reunited with her son, but she demands I be arrested for attempted kidnapping. We try to explain the situation, but the woman is in complete hysterics. The manager offers to show the police the footage of the entrance to try and clear the things up. After viewing it, they come out to us.)

Officer: “You are free to go, sir. It appears that this lady walked up to you with her stroller and simply left it next to you before walking into the store. We can’t even see her say anything.”

(I turn to see her blushing and staring at the ground.)

Me: *bewildered* “So, she just left her child with a complete stranger, hoping they would take care of him?”

Woman: *snapping her head up and glaring at me* “I WAS BUSY!”

(The woman fell into hysterics again and was being escorted to an ambulance as I left the store.)

Get Me To The Card On Time

| MI, USA | Right | April 21, 2017

(Our store has a store credit card customers can use to buy items and to save money. For whatever reason, the bank that controls it is bought out and they have to send customers all new cards, and the bank statements that we used to be able to scan to let customers make payments on their accounts don’t work anymore, so they have to have their new cards on them in order to pay.)

Me: “Hi! What can I do for you?”

Customer: “I want to pay my credit card bill.” *he hands me his statement and a check*

Me: “Okay, do you have your new card on you?”

Customer: “No, why?”

Me: “Okay… I’m going to have to have your new card in order to make the payment.”

Customer: “Why?! I have the statement right here!”

Me: “Yes, but the statement doesn’t work anymore. The account numbers are different so we need your new card in order to make a payment. I can try scanning it but it won’t let me.” *I scan it and my computer beeps at me with a warning saying that it cannot process it at this time* “I’m sorry, sir. I’m going to have to have your new card.”

Customer: “But I don’t have it!”

Me: “Did you receive it in the mail?”

Customer: “Yes! I just don’t have it on me!”

Me: “Okay… there’s just nothing I can do store-level unless you have your card. I can give you a number to call or you can pay online.”

Customer: “Great! It’s due today! Now I’m going to have to f****** pay the 35 dollar overcharge fee because you won’t f****** take my bill!”

Me: “I’m really sorry, sir… there’s absolutely nothing I can do unless you have your card.”

Customer: “Just f****** great!”

(He stormed off and I saw him standing there yelling at his friend because I won’t accept his payment. He stood there for the next hour or so instead of going home to get his card to make his payment on time.)

Getting Lippy With The Lipstick

| New Zealand | Right | April 19, 2017

(I am sixteen, in the mall after school, still in my high school uniform, which is a black sweater with a school crest and black skirt. I pick up a few things I need and text my dad to tell him where I am. I decide to look at some lipsticks while I wait for a reply when I catch this woman staring at me. She’s staring so hard I keep glancing up from my phone to make sure she’s not going to do something suddenly. Eventually I decide to say something.)

Me: “Can I help you?”

Woman: “I’m looking for some lipstick. What are you doing?”

Me: “Um, texting my dad…”

Woman: “They let you have a phone?”

Me: *not understanding* “Uh, yeah, I mean I have to buy my own credit but I only really use it so they can call me—”

Woman: “Whatever. Put it away and help me.”

Me: “Pardon?”

Woman: “I want a new lipstick! I’m in a rush. Do you mind?”

(I gesture to the range of lipsticks on the counter between us. At the same time I get a text back from my dad and look back down at my phone. When I do so, the woman slams her purse on the counter, sending a bunch of eyeshadows and blushes onto the floor, where they shatter.)

Woman: “I can’t believe this! I shop here all the time and I’ve never been treated so badly in ten years!”

(Just then, my dad shows up.)

Dad: “Ready?”

Me: “Uh, yeah.”

(My dad looks at the mess at the floor and then at the woman who is now shooting evil looks at him, too. We join the checkout line and the woman follows us, still shouting about the appalling service.)

Dad: *to employee* “Can you call a manager?”

(The employee calls the manager, who arrives quickly and looks between us and the furious but now silent woman who has followed us all the way to the front door.)

Dad: “That lady has been harassing my daughter and quite a bit of your display.”

Woman: “She should be fired! She wouldn’t help me find what I wanted!”

Manager: *looks at my high school uniform and then at the woman, and radios mall security*

(I ended up with a free lipstick for my trauma!)

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They Are In The Lower Percentile, Part 2

| London, England, UK | Right | April 16, 2017

(I work in a well-known department store which is famous for having frequent sales.)

Customer: *holding up two dresses from the sale rack* “Are these the same price?”

(I look at the labels which she too would have seen, both are reduced by 50%, Dress A was £10 and is now £5, and Dress B was £16 and is now £8. I point at the labels and say the prices.)

Customer: *smiles* “I only want these if they’re the same price. Can you check and see if they’re the same price?”

(I scan them and repeat what it says on the labels.)

Me: “You see, they were different prices to start with, and they’re still different prices.”

Customer: *still not understanding what I am saying* “I only wanted them if they were the same price…”

Me: “They’re not the same price.”

(I realise now that she thinks them both being the same percentage off makes them the same price. I don’t know what to tell her. I want to tell her how stupid she is but I’d lose my job.)

Customer: “Can you check?”

Me: “I just checked. Look, their current price is on the labels, and that’s exactly what the scanner is telling me. 50% off 10 is 5 and 50% off 16 is 8.”

(I know checking them again won’t change their price but she is just smiling at me, still confused.)

Customer: “I only want them if they’re the same price?”

(I feel like screaming. I don’t know what she wants me to do.)

Me: “Sorry, they’re not the same price. They’re different prices. They’re different dresses and different brands and differently priced, even in the sale. It’s the same percentage but different price.”

Customer: “I only wanted them if they are the same price…” *walks off smiling, but looking very confused*

(I was so frustrated I ran to the break room so that I could calm myself down.)

They Are In The Lower Percentile

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