Check Yourself Before You Self-Checkout, Part 3

, , , , , | Right | August 1, 2020

I am at a bulk retailer using the self-check system. I am scanning my items when the attendant sees me and darts over toward me.

Attendant: “Sir, make sure you—”

And then I beep on a multi-pack of sauce.

Attendant: “Wow, you’re the first person all day to scan that sticker. If you scan the UPC on the jar, it crashes the system and the manager has to reboot it. It takes at least fifteen minutes and it’s why I’m over here.”

As she states that, I see a guy behind her pick up the same jars of sauce and I try to tell him.

Me: “Sir, use the one on the top—”

Beep! He scans the wrong one, crashing that system. The attendant looks crushed as the customer begins to yell at her for the system not working. I interrupt him mid-sentence.

Me: “Stop that. It’s not her fault you couldn’t scan the huge sticker on top that says three-pack. She’s doing a great job and was telling me and I attempted to tell you before you did it. You need to read if you’re going to self-check your items.”

He turned a couple of shades of red and backed down. She guided him to a register that was still working. On my way out, I thanked her again for her help and told her boss she was doing a great job.

Related:
Check Yourself Before You Self-Checkout, Part 2
Check Yourself Before You Self-Checkout

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What’s The Opposite Of An Extreme Couponer?

, , , , , | Right | August 1, 2020

I’m a cashier at a very cheap retail chain. Despite the prices, we do take coupons, but we are very strict about them and any bad coupons are counted as a till shortage. A customer comes up to my register with peas, detergent, toothpaste, soap, chocolate milk, and a stack of coupons. I ring her up and she picks up her bag of items and holds them away from me.

Me: “Okay, it’s going to be [price].”

Customer: “No, it’s not; I have coupons!”

Me: “Okay, then, I’m going to need to see your coupons and your items.”

Customer: “What? Why? Can’t you just scan them?”

Me: “No, sorry, we have to check the coupons and make sure they apply to the items.”

Customer: “I don’t have time for this. Fine, just check them.”

She hands me back the bag. I start to check the items against the coupons.

Me: “Right, this one isn’t going to work—”

Customer: “That’s not true!”

Me: “It is; the coupon says right here that it’s for a six-pack of chocolate milk and you have just one.”

Customer: “Fine, I don’t want it, then.”

Me: “Okay, then. This coupon isn’t going to work, either; this is for a bigger soap than we carry.”

Customer: “Ugh!”

Me: “And this one isn’t going to work because this is for a bigger detergent than we carry.”

Customer: “This is ridiculous!”

Me: “This last coupon isn’t going to work, either.”

Customer: “Seriously? Why?”

Me: “Because this is for [Unaffiliated Retail Chain].”

Customer: “This is absurd! You always take these coupons! Can’t you just take them and let me have my items?”

Me: “Sorry, no. It’s store policy and they’re strict about coupons.”

Customer: “But it’s only four items and I need them! Just take them!”

Me: “With all due respect, ma’am, this many bad coupons is enough to get me fired and I’m not willing to lose my job over this. Sorry.”

Customer: “Then just give me the peas!”

She threw the money at me and stormed off in a huff.

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Don’t Even Have A Name For This Problem

, , , | Right | July 31, 2020

I work at a welfare office, where we’re the main administration for a debit card for food purchases for the country. The country is divided into regions that handle the actual clients. We’re more like the mothership to their battleships, but sometimes clients come directly to my office to complain.

A man storms into the office.

Man: “Where’s my d*** card?”

Me: “Ah, good morning, sir. What seems to be the problem?”

Man: “Are you deaf?! Where. Is. My. D***. Card?!”

Me: “Oh, I heard you the first time, sir. What I mean is, what’s the specific problem? Have you lost your card? Has it been stolen? Have you not received your card?”

Man: “I have been waiting for months for this card. Now the temporary one is expired. How am I supposed to buy food?!

Me: “Okay, sir, what region are you from?”

He says he’s from the region furthest south from the Head Office.

Me: “Okay. Do you have any ID, and the name of the officer you dealt with when you made your application?”

Man: “I’m not telling you that. Just do your job and give me my card.”

Me: “Well, sir, I can’t pull your specific file if I don’t know which officer is dealing with it. That means I wouldn’t be able to give you specific feedback on the status of your card.”

Man: “I don’t care. Months, girl. Months.”

Me: “Okay… Well, did you check with the regional office?” 

Man: “Do I look stupid? No! You’re the head office. Obviously, the card would be here.”

Me: “Actually, no, sir. When the cards are delivered from the manufacturer, they are sorted by region and automatically delivered to the region. Even if it was here, we couldn’t give it to you, because your social worker would have to activate it at the regional office.”

Man: “Don’t lie to me.”

Me: “No, sir, I’m not. If you give me the name of your officer, I could call to check if it’s waiting for collection.”

Man: “God d*** it, are you f****** deaf? I’m not telling you that.”

Me: “Okay. As I can’t check on your individual application, perhaps the problem could be with the manufacturer. See, sir, we’ve recently switched manufacturers, so there’s a bit of a backlog in the actual creation of the card.”

Man: “Who’s making the cards? I will go make them make my card.”

Me: “Sorry, sir, but I can’t give you that information. You really should check with your social worker, if you decline to give me your name. Without it, I can’t actually help you.”

Man: “TELL ME! YOU DON’T KNOW WHO YOU’RE DEALING WITH!”

Me: “I know, sir. You won’t even give me your name.”

The man continues bellowing about “dealing with me” and bawling ominously that “we don’t know who we’re dealing with” before he storms out, still ranting. I look at my coworkers who just blink at me.

Coworker: “I would’ve told him to f*** off ages ago.”

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A Charitable Response To Harassment

, , , , , | Working | July 31, 2020

I’m doing a little shopping in the city with my mom since we have a little time to kill before an appointment. We’re chatting a little and not really paying attention to our surroundings until someone all but jumps in front of us.

Guy: “Hi! My name is [Guy] and I’m from [Charity Organisation]! Do you have a few minutes?”

Mom is a bit startled and wary but still willing to listen.

Mom: “Well, we’ve got a little time to spare, I guess…”

Guy: “Great! Could I have your name, please?”

Mom: “It’s [Mom].”

He writes that down. During the whole discussion, he uses the informal variant of “you,”which in German is mainly used for friends and family but not strangers.

Guy: “So, [Mom], as I said, I’m from [Charity] and we—”

Mom: *Cutting him off* “Before you start, maybe you can save your breath. I know what [Charity] does, but I’m not interested in giving money to some stranger that stopped me in the streets.”

The guy smiles, but it starts to seem a little forced and condescending.

Guy: “[Mom], why don’t you just listen and let me talk?”

He then launches into an extensive spiel about his charity and what they do. During his last sentences, he almost pushes an empty form into my hands.

Guy: “So, now, if you just enter your information and sign here—”

Mom: “Wait a minute. I just told you I won’t give away any cash and that includes not signing any membership application. If you have some flyers or pamphlets, I’d happily take them with me so I could make a donation via money transfer, but I’m not comfortable giving my bank account information to someone I don’t even know.”

Guy: “No, I don’t have any pamphlets. I told you I’m [Guy], so we’re not strangers anymore, right? Now, just fill in your information and sign here, please. Why wouldn’t you want to?”

Mom: “For one, it’s my decision how I spend my money. And besides that, I’ve had bad experiences with a scammer that pressured me into signing a contract when I was younger.”

Guy: “Well, we’re no scammers; we are [Charity]!” *Points to his name badge* “[Mom], it’s really not difficult. You could be really making a difference with your donations!”

Mom: *Getting really fed up* “Look, I’ve repeatedly told you I won’t be signing this. You say you are with [Charity], but anyone could print a badge like yours and claim that.”

The guy tries to speak up again but she raises her hand to stop him.

Mom: “Besides, we’ve got an appointment and need to go now so we’ll be there on time.”

He tried to keep us for a little longer but we left. On our way back, we made sure to take a different route just to avoid running into him again. It’s not like my mom or I don’t want to donate money for a good cause, but if an organisation doesn’t offer pamphlets or accept one-time donations via money transfer, they can’t really expect people to sign a membership form just because someone on the street pushes it at them.

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That’s A Wrap On This Burrito Place

, , , , , , , | Working | July 31, 2020

On my campus, we have a few places to eat. One of these places is a burrito place. It’s pretty good, but I’ve started becoming uncomfortable going because of a few incidents. 

The first incident: I walk up to the guy who’s making my burrito. 

Employee #1: “What would you like today?”

Me: “A burrito, please.”

Employee #1: “Do you want rice and beans on that?”

Me: “Yes, please.”

Employee #1: “Protein?”

Me: “Oh, uh, no protein, please.”

Employee #1: *In a snotty tone* “You know, you don’t have to say please so much.”

I am very self-conscious, so I promptly shut up and barely say anything else for the rest of the order except what I want. 

The second incident: I walk up to a different employee at a different time of day. 

Employee #2: “Hi, what can I get for you?”

Me: “A burrito, please.”

Everything goes perfectly fine while I order; the employee puts my order behind the glass divider within her reach but not within mine. I go to pay for my food with a different employee… and neither of them gives me my food.

Me: “Um… excuse me? Excuse me?”

For a solid minute, I try to get both of their attention so I can get my food, which has been paid for, while they socialize with a different customer. I finally get one’s attention.

Me: “Hi, sorry. Could I, um, actually have my food, please?”

I give a nervous laugh to show I’m joking.

The employee gives me a snotty look and slaps the box into my hand. Nothing spills, but the look she gives me makes me feel completely embarrassed for asking for food that I’ve actually purchased. 

The third incident: my roommate goes to go get a burrito. The — third and different — employee puts rice and beans, no meat, cheese, and lettuce, and begins to close the burrito. Only BEGINNING to close it; that is, she’s folded the wrap over the tiniest amount.

Roommate: “Oh, sorry, could I get sour cream and cilantro on that, please?”

The employee huffed loudly, slapped the burrito back open, flung cilantro on it, squirted too much sour cream on, and wrapped it up as aggressively as she could. I get that you’re tired and want to end the semester, too, but still…

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