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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Loyal To A Fault

, , , | Right | November 11, 2017

(I cashier at a store that has a loyalty program for customers. Customers can use their loyalty card or they can use their phone number. This happens at least ten times a day. A customer comes up to register and begins unloading their cart.)

Me: “Hi, how are yo—”

Customer: *interrupts, starts yelling phone number loud enough for entire front end to hear*

She’s Suda-Fed Up

, , , , , , | Right | November 8, 2017

It’s the height of our spring pollen season here, and I’m checking out groceries to my customers in front of the big, sliding-glass shop-front doors.

I feel a sneeze coming on, so I turn away from my customer, sneeze, and excuse myself, laughing it off and commenting about the pollen.

My customer is a tiny, wizened little old lady, at least in her eighties.

She blesses me, and, without missing a beat, follows it with, “The d*** pollen’s so thick out there, the druggies are trying to convert their meth back to Sudafed!”

I stare, stunned. That comment has been floating around social media for a couple of weeks now, but this tiny old lady caught me completely off-guard!

Toilet Humor Differs From Nation To Nation

, , , | Working | November 8, 2017

(We have just moved from the USA to Qatar. During one of our first visits to the grocery store, we try to purchase the basics for our house and do not know many of the brands being sold. My husband is in the toilet paper aisle, trying to decide what brand to buy.)

Clerk: “Can I help you?”

Husband: “I’m just trying to decide what is the best kind of toilet paper to buy. We just moved here, so I don’t know the brands.”

Clerk: “The one you are holding is good.”

Husband: “Have you used this one? What brand do you prefer?”

Clerk: “I don’t use toilet paper.”

(He was quite serious that he didn’t use toilet paper. Cultural differences…)

What A Diabeetus

, , , , , , | Right | November 6, 2017

(A customer is getting her money out of her bag. I had put in a low blood-sugar reading in my insulin pump a couple minutes earlier, and it always beeps to remind me to check it again. It beeps, and I unclip it from my waist and turn the screen on. The customer looks up and her eyes go wide.)

Customer: “Of course!”

Me: “What’s the matter?”

Customer: “This is the reason I hate this store! They hire teenagers that look at their phones all the time! They don’t even care about the customers.”

Me: “What? Oh! This isn’t a phone, ma’am.” *presses “okay” and clips it back to my waist*

Customer: “Yes, it is! Give it to me so I can report you to your manager!”

Me: “One, it’s not a phone. Two, I can’t take it off because it’s an insulin pump. I have type-one diabetes.” *shows her my medical alert bracelet* “My manager knows this.”

Customer: “You don’t have diabetes! You’re not obese!”

Me: *tries to resist the urge to face-palm* “Ma’am, I have type-one. The one you’re thinking about is type-two. Please give me the money and leave.”

Customer: “No!” *reaches for my pump, which has a tube that connects to something on my stomach*

Me: *calmly* “Please leave.”

(The customer once again reaches for my pump, and pulls it off my pants. She pulls it forward and realizes there’s a tube on it.)

Customer: “How do you disconnect the charger?”

Me: “That isn’t a charger wire, ma’am. It’s a tube. You can see it’s clear. Please let go.”

(I reach to take my pump back. The customer pulls it forwards again, and I jerk forward. A lot of the time I drop my pump, and it pulls on my stomach. It’s never torn out the thing on my stomach, but this time it’s about to. Luckily, my manager arrives before it does.)

Manager: “Let go of that right now and leave. It’s good that you hate this store, because you’re not coming back.”

(The customer places the pump on the counter and runs to the door, not taking her money or things.)

Me: “Thanks.”

Manager: “Take her money; you deserve it. I’ll put her stuff back.”

(Suddenly, I heard a beep. My manager was also a diabetic, and also had a low earlier. He pulled out his pump, which looked like mine. I heard a loud scream and the door slamming shut.)

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