I just finished my early shift and am a little sick and dehydrated, so I stop by the store to grab something to drink on the way home.

I get in line, and there are three customers in front of me. [Customer #1] at the front of the line is of some Asian descent, it seems. [Customer #2] is behind him, and behind him is [Customer #3], a German man who wants to exchange his recycled bottles slip for money.

As I walk up, it seems that [Customer #3] has asked [Customer #1] if he could cut in front of him to exchange his recycling slip, and [Customer #1] has declined.

The majority of the conversation takes place in German unless noted otherwise.

Customer #3: *In English* “Ah, go back to Asia!”

He keeps nagging the Asian man, who is pointedly ignoring him while already packing his paid-for items. [Customer #3] asks [Customer #2] if he can cut in front and apparently gets permission. He keeps muttering annoyances about the Asian guy’s supposedly-rude behavior of making use of his right to not let him cut in front of him.

I am getting really annoyed, partly because I am in pain and really just want to get my drink and go home.

One more “Go back to Asia” snapped at [Customer #1] as he’s leaving breaks my tolerance. Another guy in the next lane pipes up the same moment as I do.

Me: “Would you shut your racist trap already?! Racists like you should just die out already!”

Next Lane Customer: “You are such an a**hole! Shut up!”

We go back and forth a few times, while the cashier just quickly gives [Customer #3] the money for his recycled bottles. The guy from the next lane finishes his transaction and snaps at [Customer #3] one last time about being a racist and leaves. [Customer #3] then focuses his attention back on me.

Customer #3: “Do you work?”

Me: *Glares* “Yes.”

Customer #3: “Well, then it’s okay.”

Me: “So, you’re saying that if I didn’t work, my opinion wouldn’t be valid?”

He waves me off.

Me: “Excuse me, I asked you a question!”

He ignored me and left.

I work at a musical instrument store. A customer is trying to buy something when the checkout shows me a code indicating that the card is registered as stolen.

Me: “Sorry, the checkout is buggy today and it’s locked. I just need to fetch my manager to fix it.”

I tell my manager, and he and the salesman stall long enough for the cops to get there. Three or four officers come in, ask the guy a few questions, and then arrest him.

The best part is that, as the guy is being hauled out in handcuffs, he starts shouting back at us.

Thief: “The service here is terrible! I’m going to tell everyone I know not to shop here!”

This is in the earlier days of cell phones where a lot of plans have limited texting. We deal with unbilled usage, so we alert you before it prints and try to save you money.

Caller: “My daughter has sent a lot of texts! My bill is huge!”

I check, and her daughter has sent almost 5,000 texts, which racks up to about $500.

Me: “For $20, I can add unlimited messaging to wipe it all out like it never happened.”

Caller: *Immediately argumentative* “I refuse to pay $20 for something that you can fix for free!”

Me: “Ma’am, I am actually trying to save you money.”

Caller: “You could save me more!”

Me: “Or I could save you nothing at all.”

She complained. She got it escalated. She still had to pay.

A few years ago, I went to a very large week-long conference in Las Vegas. One of the evenings, our company was throwing a massive party for our customers. These parties were known to be epic, and everyone there to work the booth looked forward to it every year.

But, at the last minute, the CEO, wanting to keep costs down, decided that engineers weren’t allowed at the party because of the cost, despite the fact that we had been busting our butts for weeks for the show. Our Vice President protested and was told just to take us all out for dinner — on the company’s dime. 

So, our VP took us all to a VERY expensive restaurant on The Strip.

VP: “Get anything you want. Let’s max out my company card!”

Everyone got Wagyu steaks, expensive wine, OLD Scotch, and all of the desserts. The bill came out to around $15,000 — at least ten times what allowing us in the party would have cost.

A woman comes in after closing by a few minutes. I run the shop myself in the evenings and close up.

Customer: “I only need some copies and a fax. It shouldn’t take too long.”

I go to make her some copies, but she pushes me out of the way.

Customer: “You’re doing it wrong. You need to let me do it because I’ve done this all my life.”

I point out our sign that reads, “Please let the employees make your copies. You will be charged for any mistakes you make.”

Customer: “I want to do it my way.”

I step back and let her make her copies. I bring her copied papers to the fax machine behind the desk to be faxed. Even though we have a sign that asks customers not to come behind the desk, she follows me and decides to be a helicopter for a few minutes.

The fax line is busy, so I let her know and wait for the line to clear. I place the papers on the desk during this time while I wait.

Once I decide to try sending the fax again, I turn around and the papers are gone.

Me: “Do you have the papers?”

Customer: “I didn’t touch them.”

I look through all the papers on the back desk and the shelves, even though they have no reason to be in there. I am TEARING THE PLACE APART looking for these d*** papers.

Customer: *Freaking out* “Those papers have credit card numbers, bank account numbers, and my social security number on them! I’m going to have to close all of my accounts, and my identity has probably already been stolen!”

I am freaking out because I will for sure get fired over this. I am ready to cry.

Customer: “I’ll check my purse just in case, but I’m pretty sure I didn’t pick them up.”

She pulls out some folded-up papers. It’s those g**d*** papers! She promptly apologizes profusely, and I fax her papers. I total her up to $2.73. She hands over her card.

Me: “We don’t take cards for amounts under $5.”

She went to her car to get some change and came back with a box. The box was full of pennies. She grabbed a few handfuls, more than what she needed, and put them in a box out of which we sold chocolate for a fundraiser. She didn’t even put them in my hands.

She gave me 302 pennies! My boss let me know the next day that a lady had called and complained about my poor behavior toward her. I told him that she was the reason the pennies were taking up three sections in the register.

Related:
A Penny Dreadful, Part 3
A Penny Dreadful, Part 2
A Penny Dreadful