I conducted training for a facility that provided services for people with learning disabilities and mental health issues. New hires were required to undergo a two-week orientation before moving on to their assigned position. Classes included CPR/First Aid, infection control, prevention and management of aggressive behavior, et. al.

One new employee was constantly late to class, and not by five minutes, but sometimes an hour or more, missing vital information. I went to his supervisor.

Me: “You need to fire this guy. He is ALWAYS late and is not getting the information he needs. He’s going to be a problem for you and a danger to our clients.”

Supervisor: “No, we need him; we’re short-staffed.”

Me: “Well, you’re not going to have him anyway at this rate. The quicker he’s gone, the sooner you can get a replacement.”

Supervisor: “No, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

One month goes by.

Me: “How’s [New Hire] doing?”

Supervisor: “Oh, we had to let him go; he was late for every shift.”

Wow, who’d thunk it?

I really fancied burritos, so on my way home from work, I popped into my local small supermarket, grabbing the ingredients as I went along. There was only one pack of tortillas left, but when I picked it up, the contents were visibly rotting. There was green and blue mould all over the top and bottom tortilla, and black water gathering in the bottom of the packet.

I hastily changed my mind (I went and got nacho chips instead – basically the same recipe) and went to check out, taking the ex-tortillas with me. 

At the checkout, I handed them to the assistant.

Me: “I picked these up, but as you can see, they’re not doing very well!”

She looks at them, looks at me, looks at them again, then puts them through the scanner.

Me: “No, I don’t want them! I just thought they shouldn’t be on the shelves; they’ve obviously gone off!”

Assistant: “So you don’t want them?”

Me: “No, they’ve gone bad. Look at them.”

She picks them back up, looks at them, looks at me, looks at them again, then voids them from the scanner and puts them behind her.

All well and good.

Until almost a week later. I still wanted burritos, so on my way home from work, I went into the supermarket again. 

The packet of rotting tortillas was back on the shelf, now almost entirely liquid. 

I abandoned my basket and have never been back.

I’m called to the returns desk to deal with a loud customer. I figure out the reason I was called over very quickly.

Me: “Ma’am, you’re trying to return clothes you purchased at Target.”

Customer: “So?”

Me: “This isn’t Target.”

Customer: “So?”

Me: “Sooo… you’ll need to return them there.”

Customer: “No, you can take them here.”

Me: “No, we can’t.”

Customer: “Look, it’s not that hard. You sell clothes, they sell clothes. Give me the cash now, and then you take the clothes back to them later.”

Me: “That’s not a service we provide. Also, from the receipt, it looks like you purchased these over a year ago. Target won’t accept them for a return.”

Customer: “I know that! Why do you think I’m here!”

Me: “So, to be clear, you tried returning them at Target, got denied, so now you’re returning them here, expecting us to give you cash for them, and then, what, we would be the ones being denied a return from Target?”

Customer: “They wouldn’t deny you! You’re another store!”

Me: “That doesn’t make any sense, ma’am.”

Customer: “Well, maybe you could sell them in your own store.”

Me: “Ma’am, what planet do you live on, because it’s obviously not this one.”

Customer: “I’m trying to help you!”

Me: “You can do that by leaving. We will not be giving you cash for these clothes. Try a thrift store or eBay.”

Pause.

Customer: “Could you—”

Me: “—No, we will not put them on eBay for you.”

Customer: “Ugh! You’re all so lazy!” *Storms out.*

I was the opening supervisor in a grocery store with only one cashier until about forty-five mins after opening. To preface: I am NOT a morning person and am usually grumpy AF in the mornings, but I can fake it real good when I choose/need to.

That being said, I was working the self-checkout until the scheduled attendant was supposed to start. It’s a slow and peaceful start to the day until this lady comes to start cashing her stuff out.

She’s talking on the phone and taking her time (which is not a problem whatsoever) while I just stand there observing, because what else am I supposed to do if she doesn’t need help and she’s the only customer there?

Well, when she eventually does ask for help putting in her produce, I walk over and start to show and explain to her what to do, while I do her first item for her. After that goes in, I stand off to the side so she can do the next one on her own, but I’m right there in case she needs help again.

This entire time, she’s still yapping away on the phone, barely listening to a thing I’m saying.

She goes to try it herself and forgets which button to press to find the code, so I tell her again which button to press, but I’m making sure she’s the one doing it this time.

After about a minute of this, she gets fed up and says:

Customer: “Ugh, can you just do it for me? This is so much work!”

Me: *Politely.* “Well, it is called SELF checkout, and I’m trying to teach you what to do so you also know for next time, but if you want someone to do it for you, then you can head on over to the cashier right there. She has no customers and would be happy to serve you.”

She did not like that answer one bit, and she tried arguing with me. I got fed up and straight-up told her:

Me: “If you weren’t on the phone while I was trying to show you, then you would know what to do. I will not be doing it for you, as that’s literally what the cashiers are there for. Your options are to either let me show you again, and you do the rest yourself, or go to the cashier.”

She finally decides to go to the cashier, but not before cussing me out on her way over, to which I just gave her the fakest:

Me: “Okay! Have a nice day!”

This p***ed her off even more, and left me feeling a mix of annoyance and joy.

Related:
Self-Check Yourself Before You Self-Wreck Yourself, Part 15
Self-Check Yourself Before You Self-Wreck Yourself, Part 14
Self-Check Yourself Before You Self-Wreck Yourself, Part 13
Self-Check Yourself Before You Self-Wreck Yourself, Part 12
Self-Check Yourself Before You Self-Wreck Yourself, Part 11

Prior to my retirement, I worked a retail job with a quasi-state agency that controls retail stores in my state. In our old store, we had a buzzer at each register that rang in the warehouse in case we needed help, or a customer needed a case of something.

Then the powers that be decided to move us to a new, bigger store. Of course, this being a state operation, while the store is much bigger, the staff is exactly the same. We now have four times the warehouse, four times the retail space, and the same number of people and hours.

Everything is always ‘you need to do more with less’. I got sick of this, and I’m a vindictive SOB by nature. I’ve been called the ‘Iceman’ because I can ignore anything. So, if I were on the register, I would stay at the register until I was told to do something else.

The managers were not happy. Then they started playing a game, one of the two managers on the shift would go back into the warehouse, to ‘check things’ aka vape (vaping is not allowed in the stores). In short order, the other manager would join the first, and then the other two clerks would head to the Warehouse, leaving me alone in the store.

Now, at this new store, the powers that be had the buzzer to call the warehouse placed in the office instead of at the registers. Managers put out a memo stating that employees are not allowed in the office without a manager present.

I keep ringing up customers, and other customers come to me asking for products that are in locked display cases. I inform them that they need to stick their heads in the door at the rear of the store and call for a manager. A manager comes out, talks to the customer, and goes to the office to look for the keys, then has to go back to the warehouse to get the keys from the other manager.

Customers are not happy, and I proceed to tell the customers to complain to the state complaint office.

The managers go ballistic, demanding to know why I didn’t ring the buzzer, and I simply point out that their memo says I’m not allowed in the office without a manager present.

Bottom line, there wasn’t a thing they could do about it.