I work for a large retail and grocery company. And like most grocery stores, we have a deli section.

I am working the returns desk, which I am still fairly new at, and a customer rolls up with a cart that has two cardboard boxes full of half-eaten fried chicken. I don’t think I’ve ever seen that much fried chicken before.

Me: “Hello, how can I help you?”

Customer: “I would like to return this fried chicken.”

Me: “What’s wrong with it?”

Customer: “I ordered this for a family reunion this past weekend. I took it home to my family and when we got to eating it, it was all burnt and nasty. We weren’t satisfied, and I’d like my money back.”

I’d like to note that she’s still wearing her family reunion shirt.

She’s quoting our fresh food policy, which is 100% money-back guarantee. So, I decide to follow through with the return, although in my head I’m trying to figure out why anyone would buy fried chicken from us, ever. Of course, it is going to be bad; our deli food is known for being nasty.

The customer hands me her receipt and it says she bought two orders of seventy-five pieces of chicken, totaling about $100. I do the return and give her her money back, and I come around to grab the cart of chicken.

It doesn’t end there.

Later, I’m taking returns and claims back to their respective sections: bakery to bakery, frozen to frozen, etc. I roll the chicken cart over to deli, and the workers greet me, confused.

Deli: “What’s this?”

Me: “Claims. A lady came and returned these. Said they were burnt and nasty.”

Deli: “And you took it back?”

Me: *Shrugs* “Yeah, it’s policy. 100% money-back guarantee.”

At this point, they’re now visibly angry. I have a mini-freak-out and start to doubt myself. Is that the policy? Did I do it wrong? I am still new at returns, so it’s possible.

Me: “Was I wrong?”

They tell me no and sigh. They ask what the customer looked like and I described her to them. They get angrier.

Deli: “She came in last weekend to pick up that big order of hers. It took us all day to make it. She came in and didn’t have enough money! She told us she didn’t know it would be that much. She told us about her family reunion and how much it meant to her. She started crying. She only had about $80 on her, so we — the deli and bakery workers who were in that day — decided to chip in and help her pay for the rest.”

All three of us look down at the cart and cardboard boxes filled with half-eaten nasty chicken.

This is why I have trust issues.

I’m a personal shopper. People place grocery orders online for delivery or click-and-collect, and I go around our store following a handset’s orders to put each customer’s shopping in a tray. I’m in the yoghurt aisle when a well-to-do lady approaches me with a question.

Customer: “Where do you have [Obscure Yoghurt Brand]?”

I panic. I know I’ve seen it, but there are only three flavours, so they take up very little space. I try to help her look for it, but I can’t spot it, and she’s clearly had enough of waiting.

Customer: “Obviously, this is why you work here, though I’m surprised, given that you’re clearly too stupid to find this yoghurt.”

Me: “Well, my Masters is in linguistics, not yoghurt…”

Her face fell and then scrunched up, and she stormed out the aisle. I spotted the yoghurt brand about ten seconds later.

In the UK, “high-caffeine energy drinks” cannot be sold to under 16s. I use the automated checkout with my age-restricted drink, though there is always a member of staff by the eight or so automated checkouts to deal with issues and glitches. Taking this drink through them has never been an issue before, and I don’t really want to queue for a manned checkout for a few items.

I scan my shopping and wait as the light is flashing red and the screen is telling me that age verification is needed.

A minute or so goes by, and the person usually there is nowhere to be seen. I look over to the closest manned checkout, which now has no queue.

Cashier #1: “Sorry, can’t help you, love. Have to stay here.”

Another minute later, I wave at the cashier.

Cashier #1: “Look, just wait. It’s only been a few minutes.”

Cashier #2: *Walking past* “Oh, sorry. Not sure who is supposed to be here. I’ll see if I can find someone. What’s the issue? [Drink]? Yeah, I’ll get someone to come over.”

Me: “Can’t you verify it? I have ID if you need to see that.”

That’s normally not needed; they take one look at me and swipe an employee code of some kind, and the machine knows I’m old enough. I’m twenty-five.

Cashier #2: “Nah, sorry, gotta find who it’s supposed to be.”

She ambles off slowly.

I wait another minute or so and then give up. I would have given up sooner, but it is pouring with rain so I don’t mind waiting inside in the hope that the rain will ease off a bit. But now, it’s taken two people over five minutes to do nothing, one of whom hasn’t served anyone else in that time.

As I leave, abandoning my four or five items at the checkout, I hear [Cashier #1].

Cashier #1: “Bloody cheek. Leaving it for someone else to deal with now she doesn’t want it, I suppose.”

Me: “I do want it, but I can’t pay because of the [Drink], and I can’t cancel the drink because that requires a member of staff, too, and there isn’t anybody there.”

Cashier #1: “So that’s my fault, is it? That you’re too lazy to stand still and wait?”

I just walked out.

As I looked back, I saw [Cashier #1] get up and cancel my items with the employee swipe code, so she could have done that the whole time. I’ve not been back since.

I’m the author of this story. About a month after I resign, I get a call from the store’s human resources representative.

Representative: “So, you still have a very small paycheck here…”

Me: “I had direct deposit. How did that happen?”

Representative: “Oh, did they not tell you? The last check is issued as a physical check.”

Me: “No, they did not. So, do I come see you to get that?”

Representative: “I put it at the customer service desk earlier. Just ask whoever’s there for it.”

Me: “Okay. I’ll be in tonight. Thanks for the heads-up!”

I head over after I get out of class and head for the customer service desk. Guess who’s there? My ex-boss, that’s who! She spots me and scowls.

Ex-Boss: “What is it, [My Name]?”

Me: “I’m here to pick up my last check, please.”

Ex-Boss: “Go see [Representative].”

Me: “She said my last check was at the customer service desk.”

Ex-Boss: “It’s not here.”

Me: “Can you look?”

Ex-Boss: “No.”

The following flies out before I can stop myself.

Me: “Wow. Aren’t you a ray of merry sunshine and helpfulness today?”

Ex-Boss: “Go ask [Representative]!”

I head to the office, greet our rep, and make small talk while she looks for my check.

Representative: “I don’t know why she sent you to me. Your check is not here. I know I put it at the desk. Let’s go look.”

We walk out to the front. My ex-boss shoots both of us a look.

Ex-Boss: “It’s not here.”

Representative: “I put it here this morning, right before I called her.”

Ex-Boss: “I looked.”

Me: “Oh, you did not.”

Ex-Boss: “It’s not here.”

Me: “How would you know that if you didn’t look?”

Representative: “I’ll find it.”

She starts digging through drawers.

Representative: “HA! Knew it!” 

She pulls my check from the very bottom of a drawer and waves it triumphantly. She hands it over to me.

Me: “Is that all I need to do now?”

Representative: “Yes, you’re all set. I’ve really enjoyed working with you. Best of luck!”

Me: “Thank you so much! I enjoyed working with you, too!”

I turn to my ex-boss and grin.

Me: *In my perkiest customer service voice* “Have a fantastic day, [Ex-Boss]!”

I have no idea what happened after I left, but oh, to have been a fly on that wall…

Related:
Quit By Friday

I am the author of these two stories. This story takes place in 2018 at the grocery store I transferred to. One week, our store manager holds a series of mandatory team meetings with several groups of associates. Per store policy, I have to be on the clock for these meetings, and I get inexplicably scheduled for a half-hour on one of my days off for my group’s meeting. It is very rainy that day, and I end up having to take an Uber to the store since I don’t have a car or even my driver’s license at the time, and it’s a nearly two-hour walk there from my house.

The meeting itself is just thirty minutes of the store manager talking about the company’s new customer service campaign: “Yes, I can!” Basically, it means asking EVERY customer for help, and if a customer asks us for help, we HAVE to help them, even if it means simply directing them to the actual person or department they need to go to.

At the end of the meeting, the manager asks us if we have any questions. I come up with one simple question.

Me: “What happens if a customer asks us to help them while we’re off the clock?”

The store manager pauses for a moment.

Store Manager: “Well, when a customer asks you for help, just remember, help them to the best of your ability.”

Me: “But wouldn’t that be working off the clock?”

Store Manager: “It’d probably only take you a couple of seconds to a few minutes at most.”

I stood dumbfounded. Had he really just told me that we were now essentially EXPECTED to work off the clock? But that’s not even the worst part.

Two days later, while I was on my lunch break, a customer asked if I could help her to the car. I told her I was off the clock but I would find a coworker to help her, which I did. As soon as I got back from my lunch break, the store manager called me to the office and scolded me for not helping the lady, threatening to write me up if it ever happened again.

Now, I’d already been frustrated enough with this job for a number of reasons, which I will not go into detail about. However, being threatened with corrective action for NOT breaking labor laws was the last straw, and I put in my two weeks notice shortly afterward. I spend the remainder of 2018 working for my dad’s construction company before finding a new job at a competitor grocery chain the following year.

Related:
This Write Up Isn’t Going To Stick(er)
Bad Manager Reached Breaking Point