We’ve Run Out Of Prankster Rodentia

, , , , , , | Right | December 28, 2017

(I work at a chain pet store, in the pet care section. Policy states that we can deny the sale of any pet if we believe that it will not be going to a good home. As a company, we also do not sell live feeders, except for crickets, goldfish, and minnows. We do sell frozen feeder mice, but if customers come in asking about live mice for snakes, we direct them to reptile stores in the area that sell live ones. Two customers come up to me. Only one does any talking.)

Customer: “I want to buy a mouse.”

Me: “Are you looking for a pet or a feeder?”

Customer: “Oh, just a feeder.”

Me: “Okay, we have them right over here in the freezer.”

(I start to lead them over to it.)

Customer: “You don’t have live ones?”

Me: “No, as a company, [Pet Store] doesn’t sell live feeder mice.”

Customer: “Then, what do you feed your snakes?”

Me: “Frozen mice, thawed out.”

Customer: “But we want a live one.”

(At this point, a coworker walks by, having only heard the last couple sentences, and she chimes in, repeating that we don’t sell live feeders.)

Me: *remembering something* “Actually, we don’t have any mice right now, anyway. Just hamsters and guinea pigs.”

Customer: “Okay, we’ll take a hamster, then.”

Me: *suspicious at the switch* “What are you getting it for?”

Customer: “Oh, it’s for a prank.”

Me: “I can’t sell you a pet for a prank.”

Customer: “Why not? I’m paying for it, aren’t I?”

Me: “No, because we won’t sell it. We sell pets, not pranks.”

Customer: “Fine then. I’m buying it for me, for a pet.”

Me: “But you just said you were buying it for a prank. I can’t pretend I didn’t hear that.”

(She glanced at her friend, huffed, and stormed out of the store. The friend followed. My coworker and I stared at each other for a moment, sighed, and got off of the sales floor to decompress. I wish I could say this was the weirdest or worst encounter with someone wanting to buy pets. Just a few weeks before, there was a person who wanted to buy a rat for “religious purposes.” She refused to elaborate, and she was refused the rat, too.)

It’s A Date! Wait…

, , , , , , , , , | Romantic | December 26, 2017

(I go to college out of state, but come home to Houston every year for holidays and summers. My boyfriend attends college where I do, but lives elsewhere. A male friend I have known since high school contacts me on messenger to ask about my holiday plans one year.)

Friend: “So, you’re going to be home again for Thanksgiving?”

Me: “Yeah, I thought about going to see my boyfriend’s family this year, but we decided that we should just each go home separately. I might go visit him for New Year’s, though.”

Friend: “We should get together when you’re back! We can have a big outing like we used to with everyone!”

Me: “That sounds like fun! If you plan it, I’ll find a way to make it.”

(A few weeks pass, and Thanksgiving break is imminent. He messages me again.)

Friend: “Hey! Are we still on for getting together when you’re back?”

Me: “Sure thing! Is that Saturday okay with everyone? Did you want to do an e-vite so everyone knows? I can set something up and start a group chat.”

Friend: “I’ll take care of it. Are you bringing your car back? Do you need a ride?”

Me: “Oh, don’t worry. I’m sure [Another Friend of ours] can pick me up, since I live so close to him.”

Friend: “No, no! I insist on picking you up! Does [Local Restaurant] sound okay?”

Me: “Sure. I think that should be within everybody’s budgets.”

(I came home for Thanksgiving and the get-together had been solidified. Or so I thought. My friend texted me to say he was coming to pick me up. Upon arriving at the restaurant, I discovered that he lied and didn’t invite anyone else; it was just the two of us. I insisted on paying for my meal, despite his repeated attempts to cover it, and the entire evening was extremely awkward with little conversation. When he drove me home, he even tried to lean over to kiss me as I was getting out of the car. I chewed him out over messenger when I finally got over my shock and disgust, and he acted like I was some cheating girlfriend who had led him on for months. When I mentioned the whole scenario to a mutual friend of ours, he laughed and said that this was the third time that guy had pulled this series of tricks on a girl in our social circles. And every time, he tried to blame it on her “leading him on.”)

Don’t Discount The Effect Of The Holidays

, , , | Right | December 22, 2017

(I am a manager of a chain beauty store. I am sent to fill in at a location 50 miles from my home store. During the Christmas rush, a nervous customer places nearly $300 worth of merchandise on the counter, and requests a manager.)

Me: “Hi, you asked to see me? How can I help?”

Customer: “Umm… well, um… I need the employee discount.”

(Only managers are allowed to process employee purchases.)

Me: “Oh, of course! You have a great selection here!”

(At the end of the transaction, I ask for her employee I.D. so I can enter it into the system, to complete the purchase.)

Customer: “Oh, umm… I don’t work at THIS location… I was just recently hired. I don’t have a number yet! I work at the [My Home Store] store!”

Me: *faking cheerfulness* “Wow! What a coincidence! That is my store! I am just helping out here today. I don’t remember hiring you, though.”

(She looked like a deer caught in headlights for a few seconds, then bolted out. It took me a few moments to contain my laughter before I could get back to work.)

Their Clearance Scam Is As Clear As Ever

, , , | Right | December 22, 2017

(We have an older regular customer who is notorious for peeling clearance stickers off of items and slapping them on full-priced merchandise. She does this primarily with cosmetic items. The dead giveaway is the fact she puts the stickers over the barcode, which we never do. Even if an item is clearanced, we still get full credit for it. We can’t get any credit if we simply ring it as an open department beauty item, which could be anything from professional hair care to cotton balls. She’s been caught shopping with a clearance sticker on each finger, looking for items to put them on, and she’s been caught opening big bags of candy and stuffing handfuls in her purse. Every time she gets caught, her defense is, “I didn’t do that!” and, “I don’t know!” and, “Those aren’t mine!” We warn everyone about our clearance policy routinely. The sticker is placed visibly on the front of the item, and the price is already adjusted in the system. If a mascara has a sticker on the front for $1.50, the register will scan it for that price. It’s VERY rare a price change gets by the head of the cosmetics department, and again, in order to receive proper credit and keep our inventory straight, we NEVER put stickers over the barcodes. One this particular occasion, the customer greets me and starts loading her stuff on the counter. I start scanning and sure enough, I find a pair of hair clips with a $1.49 clearance sticker over the barcode on the back of the package. I simply peel it off and scan the clips, which are a very popular style and not going to be discontinued anytime soon. They come out to $3.99, and I drop them in the bag before scanning her other items.)

Customer: *watching the transaction on register like a hawk* “Those clips were $1.49.”

Me: “No, they weren’t.”

Customer: *huffy* “Well, then, I don’t want them. I’m not paying that much.”

Me: “No problem.” *takes the item off* “Is this all for you today?”

Customer: “No, I want [most expensive Pack of Cigarettes] and I want it in this bag.”

(I grab the hair clips and stuff them in my pocket, as she’s also been known to stuff her rejected items in her purse when the cashier’s back is turned. I retrieve the costly cigarettes. They come out to about $7 and change, with tax. I also put it in the bag she requested.)

Customer: *takes her change after I finish the transaction, and roots around in her bags* “How much did this cost?” *shoves an item at me*

Me: *glances at her receipt and reads the price*

Customer: “Humph. What about this?”

Me: *does the same thing again*

Customer: “And just where are my cigarettes?”

Me: “In the bag you told me to put them in.”

Customer: *looks in said bag once more, mad that she couldn’t trip me up a fourth time, and proceeds to storm out the door*

Me: “Have a nice day!”

(We still can’t work out why she’ll buy our most expensive cigarettes, but paying full price for cosmetic items is just too much.)

It’s A Time For Taking, And That’s It

, , , , , | Working | December 22, 2017

(I’m browsing a department store in the thick of Christmas shopping season. I see an attractive wallet on one of the displays and when I pick it up to check the price, I realize it is overflowing with cash and credit cards. Confident I had just stumbled upon someone’s entire misplaced Christmas budget, I go up to one of the sales counters and ask for directions to the security offices to turn it in.)

Me: “Excuse me, I think someone lost their wallet here. Can you tell me where mall security is? I’m trying to turn it in.”

Saleswoman: *her eyes instantly widen when she sees the cash, and I immediately just get all-around bad vibes from her* “Dang! Look at all that!” *throws her hands up playfully* “Sure I’ll take it!”

Me: *assuming she’s joking, but a little uncomfortable* “I’m actually on my way out now. I figured I can just swing by security and leave it with them.”

Saleswoman: “The offices are way down on the first floor. Leave it here; she’ll probably come back for it anyway.”

Me: *increasingly uncomfortable with her insistence* “I think I’ll just go find security…” *I move to leave the counter*

Saleswoman: “MA’AM! I cannot let you just walk off with that wallet that’s not yours! That’s a customer’s and I will be making sure it gets back to the owner! Hand it over now please, or I will have to involve loss prevention!”

Me: “You mean security? That’s uh… that’s fine actually. Are they here in the store right now?”

Saleswoman: *sputtering and turning red* “I uh… I have to ask you to hand me the wallet and leave the store or uh… yes …I mean… I will call…”

Me: “I’m bringing this downstairs. Call if you need to. I’m not leaving this with a random employee, sorry.”

(I turned and walked away. When I looked back, she was huffing and slamming things down on the counter, but not calling security. I’m still not sure what she was up to, but I don’t think it was anything good.)

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