Plasma Charged

| UT, USA | Working | January 17, 2017

(A few days prior to this, I had donated plasma. It’s similar to donating blood, but sometimes things go wrong when they return your cells to you, causing bruises. In my case, I have a hematoma that is close to three inches across due to a problem with the machine. Heading into the grocery store, in short sleeves due to the warm weather, I tromp around just picking up a few things I needed. As I’m doing this, I notice that a particular employee in a shirt and tie is following me around. Turning to look at him, I smile and greet him before heading off. I’ve picked up a couple sodas, some snacks, and noodles, when I turn to head up front. Picking a cashier, I start to check out, but notice that the girl’s taking a good bit longer than usual, trying to figure out prices and what not. It dawns on me then, based on my own prior experience in retail, that she’s stalling me. A few moments later, a pair of police officers enter the store, and talk to the man I saw earlier before turning and walking in my direction.)

Officer #1: “Sir, could we speak with you?”

Me: “Is something wrong?”

Officer #1: “We just need to speak with you, outside.”

Me: “Okay, let me pay for—“

Officer #1: “No, you need to come outside, sir.”

Me: “Going to explain to me why, or just be vague about it, Sergeant?”

Officer #1: “We don’t want to cause a scene here…”

Me: “No one is making a scene. I’m here shopping, about to pay, and wondering why the h*** you’ve been called.”

Manager: *the guy in the suit* “We don’t want your kind here! You need to leave.” *turning to the officers* “Make this leave!”

Me: “Woah, now, MY kind? What the h*** is that supposed to mean?”

Manager: *pointing at the bruise* “Addicts like you!”

(Looking to my arm, I chuckle and then hold up the card I was about to pay with. It’s a Visa card that the plasma places give you when you donate. They pay you for donations.)

Me: “Addict? Try plasma donor. However, if you don’t want me here, I’m certain that the officers will agree that if I pay, and then leave, that there’s no wrongdoing.”

(At this point the manager reaches out, grabbing my arm and pulling before giving me a hard shove, hard enough to knock over some displays as I stumble. Picking myself up, I look to the officers.)

Me: “You witnessed it. I was just assaulted. I wish to press charges.”

(The officers look to me, then back to the manager, reaching out to take him into custody. All the while he’s screaming about how they’re taking an addict’s side and not the right person. He was still yelling as I left, my bags in hand. Outside, the second officer noted that it probably would be a good idea if I avoided that store in future. Especially after plasma donations.)

Not The Top Slice Answer

| TX, USA | Romantic | January 13, 2017

(My boyfriend and I are shopping at our local grocery store for beer. This particular beer he wants is best served with orange slices so we head for produce.)

Boyfriend: *looking at oranges* “How many slices come in an orange?”

Me: “…”

Boyfriend: *waiting for my answer*

Me: “However many you slice them into, dear.”

Boyfriend: “Oh.” *blushes*

Everyone Else Is From Mexico

| MA, USA | Friendly | January 12, 2017

(I’m doing my grocery shopping while listening to music on headphones. I notice an old man on a scooter glaring at me and realize I’m singing along to the song softly but audibly. Thinking this is why he’s mad I stop but when I lower my headphones to apologize I catch the tail end of his comment. For the record, I’m white.)

Old Man: *mumble mumble* “…back to Mexico!”

Me: *laughing a little* “Excuse me?”

Old Man: “You heard me!”

Me: “Sir, I was singing in Swahili…”

Monstrous Pronunciation

, | FL, USA | Right | January 9, 2017

Customer: “And can I have a pound of the monster cheese?”

Me: “Excuse me? What kind of cheese?”

Customer: “The monster cheese. This one.”

Me: “Oh, you mean the muenster.”

Customer: “Oh, yeah, but, well, you know, I don’t know how to pronounce that. It’s too hard. Is it ‘manster’? ‘Minster’?”

Me: “No, ma’am. It’s ‘muenster.’”

Customer: “Yeah, but I don’t know how to pronounce it. Is it ‘mo-an-ster’? ‘Moon-ster’?”

Me: “Ma’am, I just told you how to pronounce it. It’s ‘muenster.’”

Customer: “Yeah, but it’s too hard to pronounce! Is it ‘mon-aster’? Is it ‘minister’?”

Me: “No, ma’am. It’s ‘muenster.’”

Customer: “Well, however you say it, I want a pound.”

She’s The Carrier

| UK | Right | January 9, 2017

(In the UK we have implemented a 5p charge on carrier bags; this is to help reduce the number of carrier bags going into landfills. Our store had implemented this well before the other stores. If a customer came in for one item that was easy to carry or put in pocket/handbag, no carrier bag was offered, yet if they had sufficient items, you would offer a carrier bag but explain it would cost them 5p. A very posh looking woman enters the store, walks up the sweets aisle, picks up a small chocolate bar and comes over to my till.)

Me: “Hello, did you find everything you needed today?”

Customer: *said in a posh voice but also very belittling* “Yes, that will be all.”

Me: “Okay, that is [price], please.”

Customer: “Give me a carrier bag.”

Me: “Okay, but carrier bags are 5p now, what with our store’s initiatives to—”

Customer: *cuts me off* “I AM NOT PAYING FOR A CARRIER BAG!”

Me: “I’m sorry, but it’s just company policy—”

Customer: “I WILL NOT PAY FOR A CARRIER BAG! I HAVE ASKED YOU FOR ONE AND I WOULD LIKE A CARRIER BAG SUITABLE FOR MY PURCHASE!”

(A queue has built up now and I am beginning to lose my temper. Suddenly an idea pops in my head.)

Me: “One moment, please.”

(I walk out of my till, and walk over to the fruit and veg section nearby, pick up a small plastic bag that would be used to place small amounts of loose fruit or veg in. I walk back to the till and place the chocolate bar inside the bag and hand it to the customer.)

Me: “There we go. So, that was [price], please.”

Customer: “WHAT IS THAT?”

Me: “Well, it is a carrier bag suitable for the small nature of your product and will not cost you a penny extra on your [price], please.”

(The queue of people are making comments about how silly she has been, asking for a carrier bag for a chocolate bar and refusing to pay for a one.)

Customer: “I WANT TO SPEAK TO YOUR MANAGER!”

(The manager is called down, and the story was told from both sides with other customers backing me up as she was accusing me of yelling and swearing. The customer was basically told the same thing that I was trying to say about the carrier bags. She admitted defeat but told my manager she wanted this logged as an official complaint against me. The manager pulled me to one side saying by company policy they are meant to give me a verbal warning but that they found it so funny that no such action would take place.)

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