CONTENT WARNING: Alcohol Abuse
 

I used to work at a smallish local shop in a small town. We had a lot of regulars. One we all knew had a problem with alcohol, but we never said anything; he wasn’t causing a problem and just bought a lot of wine.

One day, he came in and walked up to the counter with two bottles. He was clearly drunk and could barely stand in one spot without staggering. Naturally, at that point, we refused to serve him. When we saw him leave the shop and head to a car’s driver seat, alarm bells started ringing.

A supervisor and I headed out to intervene just as he was getting into the driver’s seat. The bumper of his car was already dented, as if he’d had a collision driving to our shop. He was, at that point, trying to start his car with a vape pen. Between us, we convinced him not to drive.

He shook my supervisor’s hand and thanked him for his care, and he explained that his wife had just left him and taken their kid. We expressed our sympathy and told him not to drive, our car park had CCTV, and we’d watch his car. He left and phoned someone to come pick him up.

He went off.

Not long after that, the police showed up asking questions about him. Someone must have called them after seeing him drive in. Anyway, we gave them the relevant information, and the car sat there for at least a week before it was moved. The police never came back.

Sometime later, we were looking at the CCTV and saw the same man collapsed drunk by our cash machine/ATM.

The company boss decided not to serve him alcohol anymore when he came in. I was the one who had to refuse him his next two bottles of wine. He took it well. He has come in since his alcohol ban for food and dog food.

I have since left the company, and I’ve seen him a few times in the local supermarket. He looked well, — and most importantly, he looked happy.

I have now moved away, and I hope he’s doing all right.

My husband invited his siblings over for dinner and a game night. I cleaned up the food while they set up a game in the other room. I had a migraine coming on, so I excused myself to lie down. A few minutes passed before I heard them yelling. 

Sister: “No, that’s not how you play that card!”

Brother: “Yes, it is! Just read it!”

Me: *Texting my husband* “Please keep it down? My head is pounding.”

Husband: *From the other room* “Guys, lower your voices. [My Name] has a headache.”

A few minutes passed.

Brother: “You’re cheating! Stop!”

Sister: *Louder* “I am not! You—”

Husband: “Stop yelling or you’re leaving! It’s a card game.”

I laughed at the irony of my husband yelling at them to stop yelling, but they quieted down again — for a few minutes.

Brother: “I quit! I’m not playing with her if she—”

Husband: “That’s it. Everybody out.”

Brother: “Why?”

Husband: “You have been warned twice to stop yelling and you continue. Go home.”

Sister: *Still yelling* “Yeah, but—”

Husband: “No. Trust me when I say you do not want [My Name] to come out here with her migraine.”

Brother: *Yelling* “If [Sister] would just play fair, it—”

I stomped out, wrapped in my blanket.

Me: “SHUT. THE. F***. UP. Get out of my house. Get out right now.”

Sister: “No, but—”

Me: “I fed you, I cleaned up after you, you were told repeatedly to keep it down, and you’re still screaming. Shut the f*** up and leave.”

All three of them stared at the table.

Sister: *Quietly* “We’ll be quiet. I’m sorry. Whose turn is it?”

Me: “No, you can come back another day. I’m not dealing with any more sound tonight.”

Husband: “Go on, guys. I’ll clean up the game.”

They both left, heads low. [Husband] cleaned up the game and came to bed with a bottle of water.

The next day, both siblings texted an apology and asked if they could come back for another dinner and game night. They brought pizza, cleaned up after themselves, and kept it down!

Customer: “Where are your essential oils?”

Me: “We don’t actually sell essential oils.”

Customer: “I thought this was a health store!”

Me: “Yes, but essential oils fall under aromatherapy, which is holistic and something we don’t specialize in. Maybe if you tell me what ailment you’re trying to treat, I can see if we—”

Customer: “Cancer.”

Me: “Pardon me?”

Customer: “My grandfather has cancer, and I need to use the oils to cure him.”

Me: “Ma’am, essential oils can’t cure cancer.” 

Customer: “Ugh! If I knew you were just going to say the same thing as my grandfather’s doctor, I wouldn’t have bothered coming in!” *Storms off*

I work the returns and customer service desk for a big box retailer that sells a bit of everything. A customer is returning a big cotton jacket.

Customer: “Can I return this for store credit?”

Me: *Picking up the jacket* “Of course!”

Customer: “Good. I need to get lots of de-licer shampoo, and I know that s***’s expensive.”

Me: *Immediately puts the jacket back down*

Related:

On The Need For Hazard Pay, Part 35
On The Need For (Bio)Hazard Pay
On The Need For Hazard Pay, Part 34
On The Need For Hazard Pay, Part 33
On The Need For Hazard Pay, Part 32

Customer: “Excuse me, but where is your non-pasteurized milk?”

Me: “We don’t sell that. All of our milk is pasteurized.”

The customer tuts and then leans back as if I am mocking her.

Customer: “Seriously?”

Me: “Uh, yes. We don’t sell raw or non-pasteurized milk. It can be quite risky, so we don’t want to risk it.”

Customer: “But the healthy benefits outweigh the risks! I need it!”

Me: “Sorry to ask, ma’am, but I do recognize you as one of our regular customers. Where have you been getting non-pasteurized milk up until now?”

Customer: “Oh, I haven’t, but I read on Facebook that it’s healthier, and I need to start drinking it.”

Me: “I wouldn’t recommend getting health advice from Facebook, ma’am, but anyway, we only sell pasteurized milk here.”

Customer: *Snidely* “So, you don’t want me to be healthy? Got it.”

I turn to leave, and she gets my attention again.

Customer: “Where’s your cookie dough?”