(I work as a manager at a clothing store where corporate has a bag check policy. Before clocking out, all employees must check out with a manager. The manager has to check inside their bags or purses if they have them and pat down any jackets they are wearing. If the employee is trying to hide merchandise, we can’t discipline them either, just confiscate it and send them on their way. It is annoying, insulting, and a complete waste of time. After about a year of this, corporate suddenly announces they are ending the bag check. I’ve just gotten off a conference call with the other stores in our district. They’ve been wailing doom and gloom that this new policy will magically turn all their employees into kleptomaniacs. I’m a little discouraged because, while I hated the policy, we are a highly-targeted area for shoplifters and I don’t want our shrinkage to go up any more than it already is. After I hang up, the resident practical joker comes into the office. He’s wearing a coat that’s three sizes too big. The pockets are stuffed full and I can see price tags and shirt sleeves dangling out. He’s also carrying a backpack that’s clearly full of jeans.)

Coworker: *with the most over-the-top shifty-eyed expression* “Hey, so, I straightened the denim wall like you asked and… um… cleaned out… um… I mean, cleaned off the T-shirt table.”

Me: *struggling not to laugh* “Oh, did you now?”

Coworker: “Yep. I’m going to clock out now and because we don’t have bag check anymore you can’t look in here. Bye!”

(Once he left, I laughed for about a minute straight. It put me in a good mood all day. It’s been a year since bag check was rescinded and our shrinkage numbers are still the same. Our customers may still be thieves, but our employees are on the up-and-up… even the practical joker.)

(I work at a clothing store that sells used clothes, allowing us to constantly have sales with the high amount of clothes in stock. This weekend we are having a sale where you can get 20% off whatever you can fit into a bag. Some customers don’t manage to pick up a bag when they first walk in, so at the register, the cashiers are allowed to give them bags to still receive the discount.)

Me: “Hello! Would you like to use a free bag to get 20% off your purchase?”

Customer: “Oh, no, thank you. I don’t even need a bag.”

Me: *confused by her not wanting a free discount* “Okay, well, your total is [total].”

Customer: “Oh, actually, I do have this flyer you guys gave me last time I was here!”

(This flyer mentions the 20% discount bag, but also doubles as a raffle ticket to get a gift card for the store.)

Me: “Oh, sweet! Sounds good; I’ll put it in the raffle bucket!”

(She pays and leaves the store. About ten minutes later, the woman comes back into the store. There is a long line now and I am helping another customer who also didn’t want a bag. The woman cuts the line to ask a different cashier why she didn’t receive the 20% discount.)

Customer: “I was just in here and—” *makes eye contact with me* “SHE didn’t give me my 20% discount!”

Me: “Ma’am, I’m sorry, that’s because you said you didn’t want the bag. You need the bag to get the discount.”

Customer: *stutters* “Well, I gave you the flyer! I should’ve gotten the discount with that!”

Me: *shows her the flyer* “Well, actually, this was so that you knew the discount was this weekend. It also had a raffle ticket for you that I put you in for.”

Customer: “I SWEAR! Okay, fine. Y’know what? Fine.” *stomps out the door*

Me: *to my current customer* “Now, are you sure you don’t want to use a bag to get the discount?”

Other Cashier: *turns to me* “I bet she’s going to cuss you out when she gets back in her car.”

(At the particular place in the college cafeteria where I like to eat, you tell the person behind the counter what you want, and they circle it on an order pad and hang it up for the cooks to see. The people who write the orders also do the cooking if there aren’t very many coworkers on duty.)

Me: “I’d like a grilled cheese on wheat, please.”

(The cook hesitates and stares at the pad for at least a minute. The longer it goes on, the more panicked he begins to look. After a while, I decide to help him out and point to where “GRILLED CHEESE” is written.)

Cook: *circling my order* “Oh, thank you! One moment, please.”

(He hangs up the order for his coworker and comes back to wait for other kids. Since it’s before the lunch rush, though, I’m the only one there, and I decide to make small talk.)

Me: “Are you new?”

Cook: “Yeah, just started an hour ago.”

Me: “You looked kind of freaked out there.”

Cook: *sheepish* “I’ve heard stories from the others.”

(I can only imagine; just a few weeks ago, a girl threw a tantrum in the middle of the cafeteria because she couldn’t get a vegan grilled cheese sandwich, which this particular cafeteria does not offer.)

Me: “Vegan grilled cheese girl?”

Cook: “Among other things.”

(Now my sandwich is done, and I have to go.)

Me: *waving* “Well, good luck with the job!”

Cook: *waving back* “Thanks! I’m going to need it!”

(About a week later, I run into him during a slow hour; he’s the only one working the kitchen, so that means he both takes my order and makes my food. I order another grilled cheese sandwich before deciding to chat some more.)

Me: “You know what would be really cool? If you guys allowed the option to put vegetables or something on the sandwiches.”

Cook: *grins* “Yeah, that does sound pretty good.”

Me: “Anyway, how’s the job been?”

Cook: *peering at me* “Oh! You’re the girl from last week!”

Me: “Um, I guess so?”

Cook: “Okay, one moment, let me get your food ready.”

(After a few minutes, my sandwich is done.)

Me: “Thanks a lot!”

Cook: “Hey, no problem. It’s always nice to see a friendly face.”

(I took the sandwich and went back to my dorm to eat. When I unwrapped it and bit into it, I discovered that he’d put diced tomatoes and onions in it! Just that little gesture made me tear up a little bit. Thank you, whatever your name is! Your special sandwich was delicious and kept me smiling for the rest of the day!)

(I have just gotten off my fourth 12-hour shift working for a game at a convention where I dress in a rubber monster suit and let players dressed as space marines shoot me with pellet guns. I am tired and sore as I slump into a booth next to a table of cosplayers dressed as characters from a webcomic)

Waitress: *with a strong southern accent* “You look tired, hon. What’ll you have?”

Me: “A peanut butter milkshake and the largest burger you have.”

(The milkshake comes, and I lose myself in a book I picked up on my lunch break. About fifteen minutes later, I’ve finished the drink but the burger still hasn’t come. I don’t care, because I’m getting to sit down.)

Waitress: “Sorry it’s taking so long.”

Me: “That’s fine; it’s busy with the convention. If you don’t mind me here, I don’t mind the wait.”

Waitress: “Let me get you some water, baby.”

Cosplayer: “What’s a water baby? She talks funny.”

(I rise up to my full 6’3” height and use my best monster voice)

Me: “I am tired. I am hungry. I just spent four days letting random people shoot at me. This woman is being a polite, excellent waitress, despite me having to wait so long for my food. Keep it up, and I’ll solve the problem by cooking and eating you.”

(The table suddenly find their sodas fascinating, and they leave soon after but don’t make another peep until then. My food comes, and then…)

Me: “I’m ready for the check when you have a minute.”

Waitress: “Oh, no, sweetie, someone as nice as you shouldn’t have had to wait so long for their food. You’re comped.”

Me: “Wait, no check? I was going to tip on my debit card. I only have two dollars cash on me, and you deserve much more. You’ve been amazing.”

(She took it and told me not to worry about it. Waitstaff who put up with large crowds of geeks so kindly deserve all the love in the world!)

This story is part of the Waitstaff roundup!

Read the next Waitstaff roundup story!

Read the Waitstaff roundup!

(I work at a store that is known for its customer service. I am working at the customer service counter and it is ten minutes before my very long shift is about to end. An elderly lady storms up to the counter carrying a statement for our store credit card.)

Me: “How can I help you? Do you have a payment?”

Customer: “I have a complaint. I paid this bill the day it was due and I was charged a late fee.”

Me: “Okay, I will tell you there isn’t anything that we can do in the store. We don’t have the power to change anything about your charge card. There should be a phone number on your statement that you can call. I understand that they are really good about taking care of these things.”

Customer: “I have never had this happen before, I have never paid a bill late, and if this does not get taken care of, I will never come back here again.”

Me: “I’m sorry for the inconvenience; I know this is very frustrating. Please call that number and let them know what happened. We have a phone down here that you can use if you would like.”

Customer: “I don’t want to call right now. I want to know why it happened and get the charge removed.”

Me: “May I see your statement? The phone number is right here and I see that you have a receipt from paying in the store. I don’t understand why it was late because it should have posted immediately.” *looks closer at the receipt and the statement* “Ma’am, I see here that your bill was due on the 22nd—”

Customer: “YES! I PAID IT THAT DAY AND THEY CHARGED ME A LATE FEE!”

Me: “Well, according to your receipt, you made the payment on the 25th.”

(The customer snatches paper out of my hands and glares at it.)

Me: “I would still call that number and see if anything can be done, especially since this is the first time this has happened.”

Customer: “I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS! I WILL BE TAKING MY BUSINESS ELSEWHERE IF THIS DOESN’T GET RESOLVED, AND I SPEND A LOT OF MONEY HERE!”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, I understand that it is frustrating. Please call that number as soon as possible and ask them if there is anything they can do. Is there anything else I can do for you today?”

Customer: “I need to make this return.”

(I process the return quickly and credit her account. I have remained pleasant throughout the interaction, despite her attitude.)

Me: “Here is your receipt of the return. Again, I am sorry for the inconvenience with your payment. Have a nice day.”

Customer: *glares at me and leaves without saying anything*

Coworker: “You ready to go home?”

Me: “Yes, please.”