I have just been promoted to assistant store manager of the small pharmacy where I work. This is when companies are coming out with various home tests for [certain respiratory illness], but before insurance companies start paying for them up front. If you want to get reimbursed, you have to keep your receipt and turn it over to your insurance company.

It’s an hour before we close, and I’m closing drawers for the night when my cashier calls me to the front.

Me: “Hi, I’m the assistant store manager. What can I help you with?”

Customer: “No, I want to talk to the store manager!”

Our store manager has taken a week off for her brother’s wedding.

Me: “Ma’am, our store manager is out for another few days, but I am more than willing to help you with whatever you need.”

Customer: *Grumbling* “Fine! I bought these home tests here, but when I called my insurance company, they said I never should have paid for them because insurance pays for them now, so I want my money back!”

I stare pretty stupidly for several seconds, knowing this isn’t going to be a fun conversation.

Me: “Ma’am, I apologize, but due to certain health reasons, the tests are non-refundable.”

Customer: “But I have my receipt! I want my money back!”

Me: *Reading the receipt* “Unfortunately, even if these items were refundable, you purchased these items three months ago. Our return policy is sixty days. But again, it is a serious health violation to try to return these tests.”

Customer: “I DON’T WANT TO RETURN THEM! I JUST WANT MY MONEY BACK!”

Me: *Staring at my cashier in disbelief* “You… want to take home your money… and the tests?”

Customer: “This is why I wanted the store manager!”

Me: “Ma’am, even if she were here, she would tell you the same thing. These tests are non-refundable. The CDC has issued this warning. Please understand that there is literally nothing I can do. The system simply won’t allow me to refund these items, no matter how upset you are.”

Customer: “I WANT TO TALK TO THE STORE MANAGER! WHEN IS SHE COMING BACK IN?! NO ONE EVER TOLD ME THE TESTS WERE NON-REFUNDABLE! I WANT MY MONEY BACK!”

Me: “Ma’am, the only thing I can suggest is possibly calling corporate and asking if there’s any way around this?”

Customer: “I’M NOT CALLING ANYONE! I! WANT! MY! MONEY! BACK!”

Me: “Would you like me to call for you?”

Customer: “YES!”

A phone call is placed. The woman screams at the person on the other end for not having a sign in OUR store saying the tests are non-refundable, and she demands to know what he would do to rectify that. I pull away and speak to the person quietly, asking if there is ANYTHING I can do for this woman.

Corporate Representative: “I’m very sorry, but if she wants her money back, she will need to get reimbursed through her insurance company. However, not all insurance companies cover these tests.”

I hang up after several minutes of pleading to find the woman speaking kindly to my cashier.

Me: “Ma’am, I apologize, but he also said the only way to get your money back is to be reimbursed through your insurance company. We cannot do anything for you here. I’m sorry, but that’s the law.”

Customer: “Why’s it so hard for you to give me my money? I work hard to put money in my FSA [savings account], I have a job, I pay my taxes, and I’m a law-abiding citizen! What makes a little white girl think you can just steal my money like that?!”

She’s Black. At this point, I’ve had ENOUGH. NO ONE accuses me of being racist when race was never part of the conversation in the first place and gets away with it. I’m done playing nice.

I step back and point to the door.

Me: “You can see yourself out.”

Customer: “Oh, you’re mad because someone finally called you out on it!”

Me: *With a strained smile* “No. You probably weren’t aware, but you’ve been yelling at me for the last forty-five minutes, and we close soon. So leave.”

Customer: “WHAT IF I WANT TO BUY SOMETHING ELSE?! HUH?! I’M A PAYING CUSTOMER! YOU CAN’T JUST KICK ME OUT!”

Me: “Ma’am, I do not get paid to get yelled at by customers who think they’re above the law. You can leave now, or I will call the cops and have you forcibly removed from this building.”

Customer: *On the way out* “I’M GONNA CALL CORPORATE AND COMPLAIN! I’LL CALL YOUR BOSS! I’LL FIND YOU ON [SOCIAL MEDIA] AND LET THE WHOLE WORLD KNOW! YOU CAN’T TREAT ME LIKE THIS! I’LL HAVE THEM ALL FIRE YOU! YOU HAVE A GOOD DAY!”

I text my boss after we (barely) manage to close on time that night, telling her what happened.

Me: “[Cashier] was present for the entire thing, so he can back me up.”

Boss: “Don’t worry. Once a customer makes the complaint personal, i.e., ‘I’ll find you on [Social Media],’ corporate trashes it.”

Me: “Well, it makes me feel better to know I won’t be fired for not breaking the law, lol.”

Boss: “Oh, I would’ve kicked her out after ten minutes. You have so much more patience than I do. But… does she not know how to read, or is she just blind?”

Me: “What do you mean?”

Boss: “Well, she said no one ever told her that the tests were non-refundable, but in order to walk into the store, buy the tests, and then walk out, she has to walk past at LEAST three large, bright yellow signs that say, ‘[Illness] home tests are NON-REFUNDABLE and only covered by SOME insurances.’”

I slapped myself on the forehead for not thinking of that.

I was not fired.

Related:
An Ugly Side Of Society Has Been Unmasked, Part 31
An Ugly Side Of Society Has Been Unmasked, Part 30
An Ugly Side Of Society Has Been Unmasked, Part 29
An Ugly Side Of Society Has Been Unmasked, Part 28
An Ugly Side Of Society Has Been Unmasked, Part 27

I was once the only person working during a really busy day during the prep season for a holiday, and I did my best to greet every customer, ring them up in a timely manner, and wish them a good day. But I had about six people who wanted me to walk them to the items they wanted, three people who wanted me to do their shopping for them, and about a dozen elderly customers who couldn’t walk very far or very fast, so in between them and the line of eight at the register, I missed a few customers.

I got a phone call soon after the busiest part of the crowd calmed down, and the lady on the other end wanted to complain about me, not knowing I was the one who was at the register.

Lady: “She greeted only the white customers and only wished the white customers a good day, and then she made me use the self-checkout!”

I worked in a predominantly white neighborhood; every day I got about 90% white customers and 10% other ethnicities. We also had two self-checkouts and only one employee, so a lot of customers chose the self-checkouts. I never forced anyone to use them, but I always opened them up as an option if the line got long.

Me: “My apologies, ma’am. There’s only one employee right now, and over thirty customers to help. I didn’t mean to let anyone slip through the cracks. And race was definitely not a factor in choosing who to greet, I swear. I simply did not have the opportunity to greet every single person.”

Lady: “Then it’s your fault for being the only employee! You need to treat every customer like they’re the most important person, and you really made me not want to come back!”

Me: “Again, I apologize, ma’am, but one of our employees died two weeks ago, so we’re short-staffed at the moment.”

Lady: *Quietly* “Don’t let it happen again, or I’ll call corporate!”

I am a woman working in a drugstore, so I often have to have strange conversations with customers who are embarrassed to talk about certain personal things — i.e., those looking for laxatives, enemas, condoms, Plan B, etc. I’ve been here long enough and have enough nieces and nephews to not be grossed or weirded out by pretty much anything they ask for assistance with. Like… I literally have too much work to do to CARE what they’re buying.

This conversation happened one day, and I’m still not sure if it was the subject of the conversation or my gender that made this customer uncomfortable.

Me: “Can I help you find anything, sir?”

Customer: “Huh? No, I just…” *points to personal intimacy section* “What the heck is horny goat weed?”

Me: “Exactly what it sounds like.”

Customer: “I don’t even know if I know what it sounds like!”

Me: “It’s made from a plant often called horny goat weed.”

Customer: “Why is it with the condoms?”

Me: “Because, among other things, it’s known to make men horny.”

Customer: “…”

Me: “Can I help you with anything else, sir?”

Customer: “No… I think… that’s everything. Thanks… for your… help…”

Me: *Cheerfully* “Let me know if you have any other questions!”

He left very quickly after that.

I am the store manager of a small store in a popular chain. Part of our refund policy requires a receipt or the card the item was paid for with, as well as, of course, the item itself. Without a barcode to scan into the system, there is absolutely NO WAY around this policy. Exchanges are only done with the exact same item, and they do not require receipts unless they are for high-dollar items ($40+).

A customer comes in who must be around fourteen. He wants a refund.

Colleague: “I’m… not sure we can refund this…”

Me: *Overhearing her* “What can’t we refund?”

The boy shows me his phone, where I see a screenshot of someone’s bank account being charged a certain amount.

Me: “So… what are we refunding?”

He holds up a phone charger that has been completely removed from the package.

Me: “…okay. Do you have the package for the phone charger?”

Boy: “No.”

Me: “Do you have the receipt or the card it was paid for with?”

He shows me his phone again — still a screenshot of someone’s bank account.

Me: “I’m sorry, but without the package, there is no way to scan the item into the system for a refund, and without the receipt or the card that it was paid for with, there is no way to prove you bought it at one of our stores.”

The boy leaves.

Ten minutes later, a woman calls. I’m helping a customer at the register, so my colleague answers it. It’s the boy’s mother. She is MAD. My colleague repeats what she’s saying while I continue to help the customer at the register.

Woman: “I want a refund for my phone charger!”

Me: “Do you have the receipt?”

Woman: “No.”

Me: “Do you have the packaging?”

Woman: “No.”

Me: “Then we can’t help you.”

Woman: “I WANT YOU TO LOOK UP THE RECEIPT FOR ME SO I CAN CALL CORPORATE AND TELL ON YOU!”

Me: “…sure. I need a date, a time, and the name of the colleague who helped you.”

I finish helping the customer at the register and find the receipt in about six minutes. Meanwhile, the woman hangs up and calls back.

Woman: “I called another [Store], and they said your policy is to make the customer happy! So why aren’t you making me happy?! I want a refund!”

Me: “Absolutely, ma’am. As soon as you find the packaging for the item.”

Woman: “It’s in the dumpster already! I bought it two days ago! How can I find it? Can’t you just take another charger off the shelf and scan it?!”

Me: “That is against policy, ma’am, as is processing any transactions over the phone. Now, if you want an exchange, I think I can manage that, but there is absolutely nothing I can do for a refund if you do not have the packaging for your item.”

Woman: “THAT’S WHAT I SAID! I WANT AN EXCHANGE!”

I give up. I hand the newly printed receipt to my colleague while she waits for the boy to come back for the exchange.*

Colleague: “…is she still going to call corporate to complain?”

Me: “Probably, but I had someone file a complaint with corporate when I didn’t hire her a week after she applied to the job, so you know, I’m used to idiots by now.”

My seven-year-old is an only child but LOVES babies and is always asking for a brother or sister. So, when we were asked at the last minute if we could watch his cousins — four years and eight months old — he said yes before I even thought about it (but I agreed).

Our house wasn’t baby-proofed, so the baby either had to be held or in the playpen. He was not a fan of the playpen. 

Me: “Hey, kiddo, could you watch the baby and play with him while I make him a bottle?”

Son: “Of course! I love babies. Can he play with my toys?”

Me: “He can play with your old giraffe or with Mickey. I’ll be just a minute.”

The baby was hungry and cried for pretty much the entire four minutes it took to make a bottle, no matter what my kiddo did. I walked back out to the living room, and my son looked up at me with the most long-suffering face I’ve ever seen. 

Son: “I never knew raising a baby was so hard!”