I’m talking with a guest and checking out their items when a kid no more than three pipes up:
Kid: What’s your name?
Me: My name is [name]!
I finish the other transaction and turn to help her and her dad. At the end I turn to the little girl.
Me: Do you want a sticker?
Kid: Yeah!
Me: Here you go!
Dad: What do you say?
Kid: What’s your name?
We laugh it off and she giggles and tells me goodbye as he dad wheels the cart away.
(I have just started working in the bakery of a grocery store and don’t know how to do much of anything.)
Customer: “I need you to write on a cake for me.”
Me: “I’m sorry, the cake decorator just went home and I still haven’t learned how to write on cakes yet.”
Customer: “Well, can you just write, ‘Mom,’ on it?”
Me: “No? I can’t write on cakes, miss; I haven’t learned how yet.”
Customer: “Well, h***, it can’t be that hard. Give me a bag of icing.”
(We technically aren’t allowed to let customers write on their own cakes, but I want her to go away, so I let her have one.)
Customer: “Well. What? WHY DOES THIS LOOK HORRIBLE? I need a new cake.”
(At this point, the phone rang so I excused myself and left my coworker to the customer’s stupidity.)
(I stock shelves for a grocery store. I have Asperger’s syndrome, a high-functioning type of autistic spectrum disorder. My manager is fairly new, but he has taken a disliking to me and often treats me poorly compared to my coworkers. This happens one day while I’m stocking pasta sauce.)
Customer: “Excuse me. Do you have any more of this sauce in the back room?”
(She’s holding a jar of an uncommon variety of sauce that we have recently discontinued. I know for a fact that we do not have any more in the back room because we just received our sauce shipment the other day, and none of it was of this variety.)
Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but that sauce is actually discontinued and is on clearance.”
Customer: “That’s bulls***! I know you have more back there! Go and get me some, now!”
Me: “I cannot do that, ma’am, as we don’t have any more.”
Customer: “LIAR!”
(Without any warning, she SLAMS the jar of sauce onto the ground at her feet, causing it to shatter. As if on cue, the manager comes over.)
Manager: “Is something wrong?”
Customer: “Fire this brat! Now! He threw this jar at me!”
Manager: “Is this true?”
Me: “No, sir! She threw that jar herself!”
Customer: “You liar! I saw you throw that at me!”
Me: “That’s not true! I—“
Manager: “Enough. I’m sorry, [My Name], but I simply will not tolerate this behavior, so I have to let you go. Go pack up your things and leave the store. I am very disgusted with your behavior.”
(I sheepishly punched out and left, but I wasn’t about to let myself be fired on such bogus grounds. As soon as I got home, I got on the phone with HR and explained the entire situation to them. Three days later, I got a call from the district manager offering me my job back. As it turns out, the whole incident was the latest conspiracy by my now ex-manager to get me fired because he didn’t want to work with someone on the autistic spectrum. The customer turned out to be his wife, and the whole scheme was planned out well in advance. One thing that he, quite foolishly, forgot to take into account was the security footage, which clearly showed his wife throwing down the jar of pasta sauce, contrary to what they claimed to have happened. He was fired almost immediately, and both he and his wife are now banned from setting foot in any of the company’s stores. I’m still working there to this day, and just recently got a promotion to assistant department manager.)
(Lady walks up to register with ice cream. I was cleaning my register so I heard the whole exchange happen to my friend on register. The ice cream was on sale for $1.50.)
Cashier: Your total is $1.60
Lady: It can’t be $1.60! It’s on sale for $1.50!
Cashier: It rang up as $1.50 ma’am but you have to pay 10 cent in tax.
Lady: No! It’s $1.50!
Cashier: I understand. You still have to pay tax.
Lady: No! It’s supposed to be $1.50!
(They went back and forth like this for a while before she finally gave in and paid. After paying she went to the customer service desk and complained to my manager for ten minutes before he gave up and gave her a dime just to get rid of her. He came over to me and my coworker)
Manger: Who doesn’t understand tax?
(I’m the cashier in the story. I work at a well known grocery store. This lady was pleasant, until the end of the transaction.)
Me: Hello, how are you today?
Lady: Fine.
Me: -ringing up her groceries- Did you find everything okay?
Lady: Yes.
Me: -realizing that she isn’t going to really talk much, so I don’t ask anything else-
(End of Transaction)
Lady: I have these coupons.
Me: Okay, I’ll take them.-starts scanning the coupons-
Me: Oh, it looks like these didn’t verify. Let me verify that you bought the items.
(We are having a big savings thing on these cakes, lunch meat, cheese, bread, zip-lock bags, & chips. This coupon set gives us trouble a lot.)
Me: Mam, I’ll need to verify that you bought the sandwich bags. (She has a free zip-lock bag coupon in the set, which is up till $3.00 of value. Her bags are more expensive, at $3.67.)
Me: Mam, I can’t use this coupon. The bags can’t cost more than $3.00.
Lady: No, it’s on any zip-lock bags! I want my $3.00 off.
Me: Mam, this coupon only works on zip-lock bags under $3.00 in cost. (Note-they’re supposed to be free, not $3.00 off.)
Lady: No, it’s $3.00 off! Now, give me my $3.00 off!
Lady: No zip-lock bag costs less than $3.00.
Me: -does as she says, realizing it isn’t worth it & that she’s not too bright. Obviously, she wasn’t looking hard enough or wanted to try to weasel her way into getting money off a more expensive version of the bags.-
Me: -smiling strained-Have a nice day!
Lady: -walks away, with her $3.00 off bags, pushing her cart, not saying anything-
Me: -thinking- Well, I hope those bags break on you, bitch. No need to get in my face over a coupon.
