Unfiltered Story #152509

, , , | Unfiltered | May 31, 2019

(I work behind the customer service desk at a grocery store where I sell cigarettes and scratch tickets. I’ve managed to get most of our popular brands of cigarettes down, knowing what the customer means when they ask for “light” or “menthol”. But some of our other brands still elude me and I often ask for the color of the cigarette they want — which is what I did here:)

Customer: And I need two packs of menthol (brand cigarettes).

Me: Alright. (goes over to the requested brand) Blue or green?

Customer: Three.

Me: (pauses and leans back, speaking a bit louder and clearer) Blue or green?

Customer: Three!

Me: (trying not to get irritated, knowing they probably can’t hear me well; raises voice a bit) Blue or green?

Customer: Oh. Green. (laughs awkwardly)

Unfiltered Story #148935

, , , | Unfiltered | May 5, 2019

I work as Front Desk in a Holiday Inn during the Night shift. There are 2 in my town. About 30 minutes after my shift starts, i get this call
Lady: Hello, i would like to cancel my Reservation for tomorrow
Me: Ok, what’s the name?
Lady: [Name]
Me: Ma’am, that name isn’t showing up. Do you have the Confirmation number?
Lady: Yes. it is [number]
Me: Ma’am, that’s not showing up either. Are you sure you’re talking to the right Holiday Inn? This is the Inn & Suites, not the Express.
Lady: No, i need to talk to the Inn & Suites.
Me: Not the Holiday Inn Express?
Lady: No, the La Quinta Inn & Suites.
Me: Ma’am, this is the HOLIDAY INN & SUITES
Lady: Oh. Goodbye

They Just Got Themselves Trucked Up

, , , , , | Right | June 14, 2018

(When our fast food restaurant closes for business for the night, we lock the outer vestibule doors. The dining room, surrounded by large window panes, remains lit so that we can complete cleaning.)

Would-Be Customer: *knocking on outer door* “Hey! I want to get a double cheese!”

Me: *pointing at window lettering* “I’m sorry; we close at 11 on weeknights.”

Would-Be Customer: *pounding window* “Get me a g**d*** double cheese!”

Me: “Our grills are off; we’re closed!”

(The would-be customer gets back in his pickup truck, peels out, and goes to our drive-thru speaker.)

Would-Be Customer: *through speaker* “Hey, manager! The little d**k wouldn’t let us in. I wanna double cheese.”

Coworker: “I’m sorry, both dining room and drive-thru close at 11.”

(The guy peels out again, drives up to the drive-thru window, and begins pounding on it. Our manager comes out to speak to him.)

Manager: “I’m sorry, but we close at 11 pm on weeknights. All our cook surfaces are shut down and cleaned. We can’t sell you anything now.”

Would-Be Customer: *reaching drunkenly through window* “B****! Give me a double cheese!”

(My manager manages to avoid his grasp, grab the window, and slide it closed on his arm. After the guy gets his arm out, he guns his engine and speeds away. After we’ve finished cleaning, the four closing employees typically wait outside the back door for our manager to finish the books, and make sure she gets to her car. We all are sitting atop the power transformer for the building, a 10′ x 4′ x 4′ block of metal housing. The same would-be customer returns, driving his truck up onto the curb and within three feet of the transformer.)

Would-Be Customer: “Since y’all are still here, why can’t you make me a double cheese?!”

Coworker: “We’re closed, idiot! Geez!”

(The would-be customer guns his truck, inching it towards the transformer. We scoot away, but we are still sitting on it. Then he punches it and rams the transformer, knocking it off its mounting, and causing the power to go out for our building. [Would-Be Customer] then backs up and peels away.)

Manager: *coming out the back door* “What the hell just happened!?”

Me: “Our persistent customer came back and rammed our transformer, using his Ford truck, license [plate number].”

Manager: “Well, that’s one consolation. I’ll call the sheriff.”

(Without power, our store couldn’t operate until later the next day once we got an industrial electrician to get the transformer fixed and remount it. And [Would-Be Customer] got a nice stay in jail for destruction of property.)

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Plastic Parenting

, , , , , | Right | June 17, 2017

(I work in a clothing store. We use sizing nubs that go on the hanger to help us organize the garments. The nubs are about the size of a dime, and very colorful. I’m working the fitting room today, and on one of the walls we have, clear, open pockets for each nub size. There’s a five-year-old girl that keeps running in and out of the women’s fitting room while her mother tries on clothing. She spots the nub organizer and reaches in to grab a handful of them. I’m afraid she’s going to put them in her mouth and choke on them.)

Me: “Oh, sweetie, no, those aren’t to play with! Can I have them back?”

(With a little persuasion, she gives me the nubs back and goes back to the fitting room. This scenario happens a number of times until her mom comes out of the dressing room. Right now she has a small handful of nubs.)

Me: “Honey, you can’t have those! You shouldn’t be playing with them!”

Customer: “Excuse me, are you telling my daughter what to do?”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but she keeps taking the nubs we use on our hangers and I’m—”

Customer: “My daughter is an angel! She can play with whatever she wants, and you can’t tell her what she can and can’t do!”

Me: “Ma’am, these nubs could potentially be dangerous for her. If she—”

Customer: “Did you not hear me?! I said she can do whatever she wants! Give her back the d*** toy!”

Me: “This isn’t a toy, and if she puts one in her mouth she could choke on it.”

(As if on vue, we hear a choking sound. The little girl has indeed put several nubs in her mouth and is choking on them. Her mother quickly bends down and hits her on the back several times before the girl spits them out. Then she stands up and dumps the handful of contaminated nubs into my hand.)

Customer: “Well, maybe if you hadn’t made them so brightly-colored, this wouldn’t have happened!”

(When I went on my break an hour later, she was ranting about me to a manager, and how I was “choking her daughter with brightly colored plastic.”)

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