Insistence Is The Mother Of Generosity

, , , , , | Hopeless | November 13, 2017

(At the time of this story, I’m 19 and working as a cashier to pay college tuition. I’m also battling some autoimmune issues that have not been officially diagnosed. All of the baggers have wandered off, so I’m pulled off a register to bag. A lady with three young children and a full cart comes in. She’s got her hands full, so I offer to help her out to her car. We get halfway out the door, when…)

Customer: “Hey! When I said I needed help, I thought one of the boys would do it. I’ve got all those packs of soda and water bottles. I don’t want to make you lift it! Go back inside. I’ll find a guy.”

(All the boy baggers are hiding in the breakroom, and won’t be out anytime soon. I don’t want to say this, as my manager is in earshot.)

Me: “Oh, it’s no problem, ma’am! I’m used to it.”

Customer: “I see. Typical male behavior. They wander off all the time, huh?”

Me: “I…”

Customer: “Oh! Your manager is right there. You can’t talk. Well, let’s get this cart to the parking lot, and I’ll help you unload when I get these kiddos buckled in. So, I’m guessing you’re a college student. Where do you attend?”

(We chat all the way out to the car. While she’s turning on the car and buckling in her kids, I get the cart unloaded. She comes back, and…)

Customer: “Wow! You are so fast! I said I’d help; you didn’t need to do that all by yourself!”

Me: “You don’t need to do that. It’s my job!”

Customer: “Well, at least let me give you a tip or something.”

(We are not supposed to take tips; however, management allows us to accept if the customer insists we take it. We have to decline it once, first, however.)

Me: “No, ma’am; that’s not necessary.”

Customer: “But I insist! Is that the magic word? I insist that you take this tip, and I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”

Me: “Well, if you insist, I can take it.”

Customer: *places something in my hand* “Don’t look until you get inside. And good luck with college!”

(Once I got inside, I ducked into the bathroom. She had tipped me $20! I never saw her again, but if she’s reading this… THANK YOU!)

Your Team Works Silently

, , , , , , | Working | November 13, 2017

(I work in the bakery section of a national grocery store chain. As we’re technically understaffed, I’m one of only two closers on the payroll and work closing five or six days a week. This means I’m alone in the bakery from about 4:00 pm until I clean up and shut things down at around 8:00 pm. This takes place while my manager is packing up to leave for the day.)

Manager: “All right, [My Name], I’m out. You’re in charge.”

Me: *looks back at the empty bakery* “You hear that, team?!”

Manager: *starts laughing*

(He told me later that he was still chuckling about it on the way home. Good to know I have good quips sometimes.)

Gluten In The Brain

, , , , | Right | November 13, 2017

(I am working at the customer service counter. My boss is in the back office, consolidating inventory counts. A lady comes storming up to the counter with a large package of bread in her hand, which she slams down in front of me.)

Customer: “I demand that you give me a refund.”

Me: “All right, do you have a receipt?”

Customer: “No, I don’t. I picked this bread up, and I got to the front, and I saw that it wasn’t gluten-free. I need my bread to be gluten-free.”

Me: “Okay. Well, did you pay for it with a credit card? I might be able to run the return through that way.”

Customer: “No. I told you: I got to the front and saw your bread wasn’t gluten-free.”

(It dawns on me that she might not be talking about the front of the store being outside in the parking lot.)

Me: “Ma’am, when you say front of the store, do you mean out in the parking lot or…?”

Customer: “No, I mean right over there.” *she points towards the registers*

(At this point, my manager has wandered out to listen to what is going on. He leans up over the counter.)

Manager: “Hi, I’m the manager of the store. I am understanding you properly, that you want me to pay you for picking up a loaf of bread off a shelf and carrying it up here?”

(The lady stood there for a moment, and it was obvious when her brain turned over. She immediately straightened up and marched out of the store, leaving the half-smashed loaf on our counter.)

Mexican’t Believe This

, , , , , | Working | November 12, 2017

(I grew up in New Mexico, but go to college in Louisiana. This exchange happens during my senior year. Sadly, I have had similar exchanges, but none are as bad as this. This particular chain of local stores sells their hard liquors from behind their customer service counter. The cashier I’m dealing with appears to be in her mid-thirties.)

Me: “Excuse me, do you have any [liquor #1]?”

Cashier: “Yes, and it’s even on sale right now for $2 off!”

Me: “Awesome, I’m glad I found some here! I’ll take one, and one of the small bottles of [liquor #2].”

Cashier: “All right, I just need to see your ID.”

Me: “No problem!” *hands her my New Mexico driver’s license*

Cashier: *looks at license for a minute* “I need to see your passport, too.”

(I am taken aback. I don’t even own a passport, since I haven’t traveled outside of the US.)

Me: “What do you mean?”

Cashier: “Sorry, but I can’t accept this.”

Me: “What? Why not?” *keep in mind, I’m of age*

Cashier: “We only accept passports, Louisiana state IDs, or licenses from the United States.”

Me: “Um, New Mexico is a state.”

Cashier: *in a rather condescending tone* “Uh, no, it’s not.”

Me: “Um, yes, it is.”

Cashier: *sounded irritated*No, it’s not. We had someone in here from there the other day and we needed to see his passport!”

(After spending sometime trying to convince her that New Mexico is, in fact, a part of the United States, and has been since 1912, she starts to get rather nasty with me. I request a manager. She rolls her eyes but eventually pages one, warning me that he is just going to tell me the same thing.)

Manager: “Hello, miss. What seems to be the problem?”

Cashier: *waving my license at the manager* “She’s refusing to show an ID or passport, and she wants to buy alcohol!”

Me: “Uh, no, I showed her my ID, but she doesn’t believe that New Mexico is a state.”

Cashier: “Because it’s not!”

Manager: “Um, [Cashier], it is a state.”

(Amazingly, the cashier starts arguing with him about it, too! After a few more minutes of back and forth, the manager sends the cashier away with the promise of a “talk” later. She leaves with a huff and a death glare at me.)

Manager: “Sorry about that. I’ll get your alcohol.”

(He checks the birthdate on my ID, hands it back, and rings my alcohol through.)

Me: *I’m pretty annoyed, but I also have to laugh at the entire situation* “Well, I’ll definitely have an interesting story to tell at the party tonight!”

Lack Of Service For Those In The Service

| VA, USA | Working | November 11, 2017

(Editor’s Note: To commemorate Veteran’s Day, we’re resurfacing this story. It was originally posted on Feb 29, 2016.)

(I was home for leave from the military when this happened. I was picking up a 6-pack from the grocery store through the self check-out lane when the “Please wait for an attendant” window pops up. I wait for about five minutes and this teenage employee approaches me.)

Employee: Sir, I need to see your ID.”

Me: “All right.”

(I hand her my military ID, since I always keep my license in my car. She looks at it confused; this is pretty common so I help her out.)

Me: “The birth date is on the back.”

Employee: “Uh, what the h*** is this?”

Me: “It’s a military ID.”

Employee: “I’m sorry; we don’t accept these.”

Me: “What?”

Employee: “We don’t accept military IDs. Do you have a driver’s license?”

(She clearly has no idea what she’s talking about, since I’ve bought alcohol from this grocery store many times with my military ID.)

Me: “Ma’am, my license is in my car; I’ve used this ID here before with no problems.”

Employee: *raising her voice* “I’m not going to repeat myself. No license, no beer.”

Me: “Look, is there a manager I can speak to? I’m sure we can work this out.”

Employee: “Sir, you cannot come in here and make up rules, then expect the manager to come help you. My manager told me…” *speaking really slowly like I’m some idiot* “NO… MILITARY… IDs!”

Me: “Ma’am, I find that very hard to believe. Please go get your manager.”

Customer: *throws her hands up in the air* “Fine! But he won’t help you, sir!”

(She walks behind the customer service desk and points me out to a manager. He walks over to me with a confused look on his face.)

Manager: “Is everything all right, sir?”

Me: “Yes, your employee told me you don’t accept military IDs?”

Manager: “What? Of course we do. Let me see.”

(He takes my ID and looks at it.)

Manager: “Looks fine to me.”

(He enters the birth date on his computer and authorizes the transaction.)

Manager: “Is this what she was so upset about?”

Me: “I believe so.”

Manager: “Sir, please wait right there; I have something for you.”

(He walks away and returns with the previous employee.)

Manager: “I believe she has something she would like to say to you.”

Employee: *sheepishly* “I’m sorry.”

Manager: *angry* “I’m sorry… what?”

Employee: “I’m sorry, sir.”

Manager: “If I EVER find out you disrespected a service member in this store again, you will not only be fired, but you will no longer be welcome in this store, period. Now get back to work.”

(She quickly walks away. The manager hands me my six-pack.)

Manager: “I’m sorry for the inconvenience, and thank you for your service. Have a nice day.”

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