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Fluent In English And Jerk

, , , , | Right | CREDIT: Chiara699 | September 16, 2021

I’m originally from a small town in Southern Italy, but I study foreign languages — one of which is English — in a big city. During summer holidays, I go back home and occasionally work in different supermarkets giving out free samples of new products. I work for an agency, not for the supermarket, and I rarely work in the same place enough to know where stuff is.

In summer 2019, I am minding my own business, giving out free samples of mozzarella. This guy comes up to me.

Customer: *In English* “Where are the chips?”

He talks VERY slowly, but we rarely get any foreign tourists, so I assume most people he has spoken to didn’t know English very well.

I don’t know where the chips are, so I try to tell him I don’t work here.

Me: “Sorry, I don’t—”

He cuts me off, thinking I am about to say, “I don’t speak English,” turns to his wife, and says something along the lines of:

Customer: “Jesus, do these people even go to school?”

Then, he turns to me and starts describing chips (I think) with his hands. I am starting to get really annoyed. First of all, YOU are in Italy, talking to an Italian in English, being outraged that I don’t speak YOUR language. Second, I do speak English, but you cut me off before I could answer.

Me: “Sir, I know what chips are. I just don’t know where they are located specifically in this store. As you can see from my attire and my badge, I’m not employed by the supermarket. I work for an independent agency. Oh! And I did go to school. I can actually speak five languages. How many can you speak?”

His face turned red. He mumbled something and left. I hope he never found the chips.

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Come For The Sandwiches, Stay For The Protection Against Harassment!

, , , , , | Right | September 15, 2021

I’m one of five working the service line that is out the door with a line of university students heading home from the bars. I’m making a customer’s sandwich and in walks a drunk guy trying to fight with the customer I’m serving.

Customer: “I don’t know you. Please leave me alone.

The drunk guy won’t let up, so I leave the service line, walk around the counter, spin him around by his shoulders, and proceed to walk him out of the store.

Drunk Guy: “You can’t do that to me!

Me: “I just did.”

He exited the store. I walked back, washed my hands, and picked up where I left off. Not long after, I noticed my police officer regulars putting the drunk guy in their cruiser.

The customer gave me a $10 tip!

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No ID, No Idea, Part 45

, , , | Right | CREDIT: jordwn | September 15, 2021

I am working in the money center of a large retail store. A lady comes up and asks for a $1,000 money order. The system comes up with the screen for me to scan her ID, because any money order that is $1,000 or more requires it, so I ask the lady for her ID.

Customer: “Since when do I need an ID for a money order?”

Me: “Well, since the money order is for $1,000, our system requires we have your ID in order to proceed with the transaction.”

Customer: “But my ID is in the car.”

Me: “I can’t continue the transaction without your ID.”

Customer: “But my picture is on my debit card!”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but that doesn’t count. I have to have an actual ID.”

Customer: “We can just do two separate money orders for $500 each.”

Me: “No, ma’am, we can’t do that, either. Our policy states that all money orders for the same person must be done in a single transaction, so I would still need your ID.”

The woman storms out. I go back to the service desk and help get the line down over there. The woman comes back in and asks my manager what the most she can get on a money order is without her ID, and my manager tells her $999. Someone else needs a money order so I head back to the money center to help them, and the woman follows shortly behind. I finish up with the other customer and the woman comes back to the counter.

Customer: “I need a money order for $1,000.”

Me: “Okay, can I see your ID?”

Customer: “Here!”

She slams her ID down on the counter.

Customer: “I can’t believe you made me walk all the way out to my car over one f****** dollar.”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, that’s just the policy.”

She continues talking about me to herself. I just ignore her and finish up the money order.

Me: “All right, there you go. Thank you and have a great night!”

She starts to walk off but decides to be a complete a**hole, instead. She slams the money order down on the counter and begins yelling at me.

Customer: “Put it in my hand! Put it in my f****** hand since you wanna sit there and treat me like a dog!”

What?! I just decide it would be best to just ignore her and keep walking back to the service desk. Wrong.

Customer: “That’s right, walk away, you nasty white b****!”

Me: “Excuse me? Let me go grab my manager really quick.”

The customer ran out of the store before I could make it around the corner to my manager. I went and told my manager, and she tried to chase her down because she’s not afraid of getting fired for talking back to a customer and she doesn’t let anyone treat her employees like that. Unfortunately, she didn’t catch her. All of that over having to walk out to your car in the parking lot because YOU didn’t have your ID? I will never understand people.

Related:
No ID, No Idea, Part 44
No ID, No Idea, Part 43
No ID, No Idea, Part 42
No ID, No Idea, Part 41
No ID, No Idea, Part 40

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Rehire Her Then Fire Her! Simple!

, , , , , | Right | September 15, 2021

I worked at a grocery store during high school and my first two years of college but resigned because I found a job on campus that worked with my class schedule. Fast forward a year. I’m a senior in college and getting some shopping done. I park my cart in front of the milk display so I can grab a gallon. I feel another cart hit the back of my leg.

Me: “Hey! What the—”

I turn around and see an old lady wearing a ferocious scowl.

Old Lady: “Excuse me!”

Me: “That’s all you had to say.”

I grab some milk and scoot out of the way.

Old Lady: “What kind of customer service is this?! Get me some milk! I can’t reach the top shelf!”

I look down at my shorts, flip-flops, and T-shirt with my school mascot on it, none of which are store colors.

Me: “I don’t work here.”

Old Lady: “Yes, you do! I’ve seen you! You shouldn’t shop on your day off if you don’t want to help people!”

Me: “I don’t work here, lady!”

One of the stock clerks approaches.

Stock Clerk: “Ma’am, she hasn’t worked here in over a year. I’ll grab some milk for you. Which brand would you like?”

I try to walk away, but she shoves her cart directly into my path and blocks me.

Old Lady: “No! I want her to do it for me!”

I grab a gallon of the most expensive brand and throw it in her cart.

Me: “There. Happy?”

Old Lady: “Was that so hard? Your manager will be hearing from me!”

She pushes her cart off in triumph.

Stock Clerk: “Sorry, [My Name]. You know we get all the crazy on weekends.”

Me: “Not your fault.”

I finish my shopping and check out. I can see the old lady yelling at my former manager at the customer service desk. It’s right on my way out, so I am able to listen in as I’m finishing up.

Old Lady: “…and she threw the milk into my cart! Do something!”

Manager: “Ma’am, she hasn’t worked here in over a year. You were harassing another customer.”

The old lady starts yelling incoherently. The manager makes eye contact with me and rolls her eyes. I pick up my bags and walk past the desk. The old lady stares at me.

Me: “Lady, I told you!”

She starts screaming. I start laughing and head for the doors. The last thing I hear as I exit is:

Manager: “No, I can’t fire someone who quit over a year ago!”

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Your Lack Of Motivation Is Not My Problem

, , , , , , | Friendly | September 15, 2021

I’ve been training for an upcoming charity obstacle course. Luckily, there is a circuit class running on a field right by my house. I’m early and watching over the equipment while the trainer runs home to fetch something.

A middle-aged woman walks over to me.

Woman: “Do you have to do that here?”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Woman: “The running around.”

Me: “Oh, the class? It’s not mine, actually. I just attend.”

Woman: “Well, you shouldn’t! It makes me feel bad.”

Me: “It what?”

Woman: “I can see you all from my house, running and jumping around. It makes me feel bad about myself.”

Me: “Okay? I mean, you could join us. First lesson is free.”

Woman: “No. Why should I? You should just stop!”

Me: “Okay, I’m not going to bother talking with you anymore. If you don’t like it, don’t watch.”

The houses aren’t even close by; she must have been straining to see us. I turned back to see her kick a medicine ball out of frustration only for her to hurt her foot and limp the long walk back to her house.

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