I am a female cashier. I’m the only one working in the front, while my coworker is in the back stocking. I am supposed to have help, but my help went home sick early, so I have a good six hours working alone in the front.
At 7:00 pm, I close the bathroom for the night and put up the, “SORRY, I AM BEING CLEANED; PLEASE BE PATIENT!” sign. We don’t have an “OUT OF ORDER” sign or a “CLOSED, SORRY” sign.
Somewhere around 8:00 or 9:00 pm, a customer and his girlfriend walk in to use the bathroom.
Customer: “Is the bathroom being cleaned?”
Me: “It is out of order.”
Customer: “Then put up an ‘Out of Order’ sign so people know.”
Me: “We only have one sign, sir, but it’s out of order.”
Customer: “We have been waiting for this bathroom for ten minutes and it says being cleaned. You need to put an ‘Out of Order’ sign up if they are out of order.”
Me: “This is the only sign we have. I don’t have an ‘Out of Order’ sign.”
Customer: “So write a new sign. Let me take it down.”
Me: “We have a policy against handwritten signs.”
Customer: “That seems unlikely. Never? No handwritten signs? Ever? This is the second time I have had an attitude from you. You don’t remember me? I had an issue with you before.”
Me: “I don’t remember you.”
Customer: “I’m [Customer]. I come in here all the time. You don’t remember me? Really? Wow.”
Me: “I don’t remember you.”
Customer: “You wouldn’t sell me beer even though I am twenty-seven years old. I sent my girlfriend in and you wouldn’t sell it to her. I shouldn’t need ID; I am an adult.”
Me: “It’s the store policy. I am not selling to anyone without ID.”
Customer: “Well, you will. You will remember me this time. I want your name and corporate’s number. I am going to call about you. I didn’t say anything then, but I am now. I am going to call. My name is [Customer]; remember that. Do you remember her, [Girlfriend], my girlfriend? Do you? Because you will. You had an attitude last time.”
He starts talking to her in Spanish, which I can understand a little bit of. I am just standing there hiccupping, tears running down my face, probably looking like a giant f****** toddler. I just can’t stop crying, and when he talks to me, it gets worse. I feel like I am three steps away from a panic attack.
My coworker comes out from the back.
Coworker: “You need to leave.”
My coworker picks up the phone and goes into the back. The customer calls after him.
Customer: “Oh, your coworker needs you, coward.”
Me: “I was trying to be nice. Please go.”
Customer: “You can change this meeting. You can change it. You had the bad attitude and now you want to change it? That is on you.”
At this point, his girlfriend finally says something.
Customer’s Girlfriend: “Let’s go.”
The customer flips his switch like he has three personalities.
Customer: “Hey, hey, I am not going to call. What do you want? What would make this better?”
I am sobbing now and telling him to, please, just leave.
Customer: “Hey, I won’t call. I am not going to call. See, I am not going to. Here, you have a boyfriend? Girlfriend?”
More incoherent sobbing on my part.
Customer: “Here, go on a date tomorrow and calm down. Take them out somewhere nice.”
He suddenly offers me money!
Me: “I don’t want it.”
Customer: “No, here, take the money. You look like you need a break. It will help you be—”
Customer’s Girlfriend: “Let’s go.”
He put $40 on the counter and left.
They stood outside the door talking for a few minutes. I hope she was yelling at him. Then, the police showed up because my coworker had called them.
I hate work sometimes.
