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Here’s Hoping This Negative Experience Was REALLY Negative

, , , | Right | CREDIT: cwu007 | January 1, 2022

I’m a shift manager for a retail drug store chain. One day, another shift manager sees two girls, both about fourteen or fifteen years old, walk into the women’s bathroom with a pregnancy test. She knows they haven’t paid for it, so both of us go into the bathroom to confront the girls.

When we walk in, we catch [Girl #1] handing [Girl #2] a pregnancy test underneath the stall door. The following conversation happens.

Me: “You need to pay for that.”

Girl #1: “Can’t we use it then pay for it?”

Me: “No! Buy it, then use it.”

[Girl #1] knocks on the stall.

Girl #1: “[Girl #2], I need some money.”

[Girl #2] hands [Girl #1] her wallet.

Me: *To [Girl #1]* “Go with [Other Manager], please.”

I step outside the bathroom; that way, I can guard the bathroom door and see the cash register at the same time. Once I see the transaction end, I leave my post.

We keep our eyes on the two until they leave.

That night, I come home and tell my boyfriend about the potential theft. My boyfriend starts to chuckle.

Boyfriend: “Can you imagine the parents if you had called them? Your teen has been caught stealing, and she might be pregnant. Which is more unsettling?”

You Can’t Kiss And Make Up For This Makeup

, , , , | Right | November 26, 2021

In my teens, there is a drugstore situated in a small shopping center at the edge of our neighborhood. I go there to grab something and just happened to pass the makeup aisle. This drugstore is pretty large, so their makeup selection is also huge, with just about every brand you can think of, taking up one entire wall of the building.

I have just rounded the corner when I see this woman sitting on the ground. In the time it takes to process what I am seeing, a manager storms around the opposite corner and makes a beeline for this woman. He stops, arms crossed.

Manager: “Ma’am… I hope you know that you have to pay for those.”

Customer: “What?”

Manager: “The makeup, all those packages you’ve opened. You have to pay for them.”

He gestures roughly toward where I am standing, still at the opposite end of the aisle from them. I look down and see what he was pointing at: the pressed powder compacts. She has opened one of each shade, ranging from ivory to warm beige, and left the remains in piles at the bottom of each display. That’s right. I said “each.” She has gone through every single brand and opened one of each of every single color on that spectrum of packaged compacts.

To make it worse, each brand makes more than one type of pressed powder. I repeat: she has opened one of EACH.

Customer: *Agitated* “What do you mean? I don’t understand. Why do I have to pay for them when I only need one?”

Manager: *Nearly having a stroke* “Because you destroyed them?! And because you used them. We can no longer sell these to anyone else because they’ve been contaminated. By. You.

The customer becomes irate and responds in a “duh” tone of voice.

Customer: “Well, I needed to test them to match my skintone!”

I realize that next to all the compacts are the used makeup sponges that come with them, as well as what appears to be used baby wipes.

Manager: *About to have an aneurism* “Well, I hope it was worth all the money you now owe us!”

The customer, apparently realizing that things had gotten serious, began panic-crying and refusing to pay. I would like to establish that this was a full-grown woman, maybe in her mid-thirties, and she had very clearly been handed everything in life.

She argued repeatedly that she needed to test them to find the right shade and that she shouldn’t be required to pay for something that doesn’t match.

The manager repeatedly informed her that he didn’t give a fraction of a rat’s behind whether or not she WANTED what she had used, she WAS going to pay for them all, right now, or the cops were going to be called.

I had to leave at that point, so I didn’t get to see the outcome, but I did a little math when I got home. This was years ago, and the compacts cost between $5 and $6 each at the time. (They now cost two or more times that.) At the end of her little rampage through the makeup section, she would have had to pay for somewhere between $250 and $300 worth of products.

Pray You Never Get Invited To Her “Party”

, , , , | Right | CREDIT: cwu007 | November 7, 2021

Anyone who has worked retail that sells alcohol knows that when someone looks under a certain age, you have to card them. If there’s a group of people, policies vary from store to store. The drug store chain I work for requires anyone holding alcohol to be carded and anyone in the group that we suspect will consume alcohol be carded. Most of the time, people pull out their cards.

I’m a shift manager. My front cashier calls for a backup due to the line being long, so I come to help him. Toward the end of the line comes a woman and a man in a wheelchair. The woman is carrying a large can of beer.

Me: “Can I see your ID, please?”

She hands over the man’s ID.

Woman: “I’m his caretaker. I’m twenty-three.”

Me: “Because you’re holding the beer, I have to see your ID, as well.”

She scoffs and walks off. I see her a minute later; this time, the man is holding the beer.

Me: “I saw you holding the beer earlier, so I still have to see your ID.”

This time she snaps, in a louder, angrier voice.

Woman: “He has cerebral palsy and I’m his caretaker! The alcohol is for him!”

Me: “Ma’am, because you held the beer and you’re the one handing me the money, I have to see your ID.”

I do not doubt the beer is for the man, but at the same time, I get that gut feeling she is buying this beer for herself. The whole time I see the man, he does not say a word and barely moves.

Woman: “I demand to speak to a manager!”

Me: “I am the manager.”

Woman: “Then I want to see your signage that says you have to card me.”

I point to a sign that says we have the right to card all members of a party.

Woman: *Yelling* “We’re not a ‘party’. I’m his caretaker!”

Me: “You’re a group of two shopping together; you’re a party.”

Woman: “Do you have to card kids who are shopping with their parents?”

Me: “If the child is holding the beer, yes. That is why we advise parents to not let their children hold alcohol.”

Woman: “We’re not a party!”

Me: “Just show me your ID and this will all be over.”

Woman: “You’re just discriminating against us because he’s disabled and I’m black!”

Me: “The reason why you’re both being carded is that you both touched the beer. You claim he’s drinking it but you’re handing me the money, so you’re buying it. And you’re both under forty.”

This goes on for ten minutes. She finally demands corporate’s number and takes a picture of the sign. My manager never talked to me about a call from corporate, so I’m assuming corporate told her the same thing I did.

Had she just showed me her ID, someone would have gotten their beer, and everyone would have been happy.

Stacks Of Parenting

, , , , , | Right | October 8, 2021

A mother with a four-ish-year-old boy is at the register and wants to check out. While I start to scan the items, the boy starts wandering around.

Customer: “Hey, [Boy], I told you to stay at my side.”

The boy does not listen and finds a stack of shopping baskets.

Customer: “[Boy], come back here! Now!”  

Still, the kid does not listen and starts to climb the baskets. Not surprisingly, the stack tumbles and comes crashing down, burying the boy beneath it. I jump up to look after the kid.

Customer: “No, please don’t.”

I stop and wait to see what the customer is doing.

Customer: *To the boy* “[Boy], did you hurt yourself?”

Boy: “Yes, it hurts.”

Customer: “Does anything hurt badly?”

Boy: “No.”

Customer: “So, pick yourself up and start to stack those baskets again!”

Me: “Oh, there’s no need. I can clean that up once we’re finished. There is no one else in line at the moment.”

Customer: “Thank you, but he has to learn to clean up his own mess and stick up for his mistakes, or else he’ll become spoiled and weak.”

While the boy reluctantly started stacking the baskets, she finished the transaction. Afterward, the customer went to her son, examined him to make sure he really didn’t hurt himself, and helped him to stack the remaining baskets. He was laughing again as they left the store.


This story is part of our Best Of 2021: Readers’ Choice roundup!

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I Think That’s The Wrong Hole

, , , , , | Working | September 29, 2021

My daughter’s roommate has a noisy guest. My daughter heads to a drugstore.

Daughter: “Where are your earplugs?”

Clerk: *Directing* “On that shelf over there. Yes. Down. Bottom shelf. Pink boxes.”

Daughter: “Dude, these are tampons.”

The NAW caption probably writes itself.