They Don’t Have Seniority Over Discounts

, , , , | Right | September 19, 2018

(I work in a charity store, where Wednesdays are a nightmare because of senior day — older people get 30% off. Unfortunately, most of them are really entitled, so everyone kind of dreads this day. It’s 9:04; our store is closed, and I’m ringing out our last customers. A lady keeps dragging furniture up to the register where I’m ringing out her family.)

Customer: “How much for the little tykes car? The tag was missing.”

Me: “Oh, sorry, that means it’s probably been sold, and if not we’ll have to retag it in the morning.”

Customer: “But I want it.”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am. It’ll be repriced in the morning.”

Customer: *drags the car up to the front* “This car?”

Me: “Sorry, it looks like the bottom part of the tag is gone, so you’ll have to wait till morning.”

Customer: “Will I get my 30% off if I buy it tomorrow?”

(I’m getting a little fed up with this lady, and I can see her family is getting annoyed by her, too, so I look to my manager, hoping the lady will listen to her as she has more power.)

Manager: “Sorry, no. The discounts are automated on our computers.”

Customer: “But I want to buy it today!”

(She finally gave up and just set the car down. Her granddaughter had to tell her to put the dang thing away. But I bet you anything she’s going to come in the next morning saying we said she could get the discount.)

Unfair For The Fairer Sex

, , , , , , | Working | September 13, 2018

(My husband and I are both ex-Navy. We met while we were both serving aboard the same ship. Both of us still have and wear our official ship ball caps and cruise jackets. This incident takes place on Veteran’s Day. We are at a restaurant with our son, who is 15. We have just finished eating, and the waitress has brought us the bill. It must be noted that while we have our “gear” showing we’re veterans, we did not ask for the free dish offered to veterans.)

Waitress: *to my husband* “Since I see you’re a veteran, I went ahead and gave you your meal for free.”

Son: “My mom was in the Navy, too. “

Waitress: “Oh.” *to me* “Do you have your military ID?”

Me: “You know, I’ll just pay for mine.”

Waitress: “Well, I can’t give you the free meal without military ID. It’s policy.”

Me: “You didn’t ask for my husband’s military ID.”

Waitress: “Well, he has legitimate military gear. I’ve seen those jackets before and know they’re real.”

Me: “Like this jacket?” *pointing to mine, which looks exactly like my husbands*

Waitress: “Oh… Well… I’ll do it just this once, but next time you need your ID.”

Me: “You know what? Never mind. I didn’t ask for it in the first place. You go ahead and leave it on there. But just so you’re aware, this is the 21st century, and women do serve in the military right along with men.”

(No, I did not get the free Veteran’s Day meal, and no, she did not get a tip, either.)

This Crime Has Gone Down The Toilet

, , , , , , , | Legal | September 9, 2018

(I am a shift manager for a fast food chain. We are one block off the square in a major college town with about a dozen bars, pubs, and clubs within walking distance, so on the weekends, our lobby is open until midnight. I’m in the back, when one of the girls running the lobby register runs back and says she needs me NOW. I hurry up to the counter in time to see a middle-aged guy with some sort of panel trying to get out of the lobby through the front door. As I approach the guy I realize he has somehow taken the urinal divider wall from the mens’ restroom.)

Me: “Sir, what are you doing?”

Man: *very drunk, yet extremely polite* “I’m having a hard time getting this to fit out the door; can you help me, please?”

(I’m dumbfounded.)

Me: “Why don’t you sit down for a minute and I’ll get someone to help you.”

(I sit him down and gave him a free cup of water, and just call the police.)

Police Dispatcher: “[Town] sheriff’s office…”

Me: *introduces self and provides location* “Yeah, I need some police officers here to help with a drunk customer.”

Police Dispatcher: “Is he being irate or violent?”

Me: “No, but he’s trying to steal the urinal wall from the restroom; he already has it in the lobby but can’t manage the front door”

Police Dispatcher: *long pause* “Could you repeat that?” *trying very hard not to laugh*

Me: *chuckling* “Yeah. He’s trying to take off with it. He’s being very polite and, other than the obvious, he is not being disruptive”

Police Dispatcher: *losing it by now* “Okay, hun, we will send someone out. Did he say why he wanted it?”

Me: “No, and I didn’t want to ask, but you’re right. Why would anyone want it?”

Dispatcher: “I don’t know, but a patrol will be there in a few minutes.”

(The police showed up and, after a few minutes of talking to him, took him out to the car without causing a scene, and I’m assuming they took him to the drunk tank. I wound up having to call our maintenance guy the next day to rehang the wall. We’re still not sure how he got it off the wall, or what he wanted it for.)

Boxing You In With Complaints

, , , , , | Right | July 30, 2018

I was working as a cashier on a rather slow day in late November. A woman came to my register with various clothing items and exclaimed that she was shopping for Christmas gifts as we had a sale going on at the store.

She was very nice and very polite the entire time. She asked me for a coat box, and I explained that they were too big to keep at the register but I offered to go get one for her at the customer service desk in the back of the store. She declined. I offered to have one brought up front so she didn’t have to walk all the way back, but she again declined, stating it was no problem at all for her to go get one.

After I finished ringing up and bagging her items, she went on her way to the customer service desk.

About twenty minutes later, the store manager came to my register and told me that the woman actually tried to get me fired for not having coat boxes at the register. She wouldn’t accept the “excuse” of them being too big to keep up front.

Tax Doesn’t Register

, , , , , | Right | July 26, 2018

(I am a student, working in the fifties-style diner in our college’s union. Normally, we are supposed to ask for student IDs to verify that the customer doesn’t have to pay tax, but if they look close, we’ll give it to them without asking. Our registers have very old touch screens, and sometimes you have to press a button multiple times to make it work. After the transaction has gone through:)

Me: “Thank you and have a nice day!”

Customer: “What is this?”

(She shows me her receipt, pointing to a line at the bottom. Apparently, her tax wasn’t taken off.)

Me: “I’m sorry; I guess I must’ve made a mistake.”

Customer: “Redo it.”

Me: “I’m sorry?”

Me: “Redo the order. I want my money back.”

(NO ONE besides our boss has the capacity to open the register outside of a transaction, let alone do a refund. I ask one of my supervisors, anyway, on the off chance they might be able to. No such luck. I tell my coworker on the only other register I’ll be back. My boss is nowhere to be found. I have to go all the way down to the accounting office to grab someone to help me. By the time we get back, the line is out the door. We redo everything, and the girl leaves with a nod, having gotten her money back.)

Coworker: “How much was the refund?”

Me: “Thirty-three cents.”

Coworker: “You’re kidding.”

Me: “I’m not. If I’d had my wallet, I’d have given her a dollar of my own money and told her to never come back.”

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