I was purchasing three cases of wine at my local liquor store, where they offer a ten percent case discount. On that day, the store’s scanning/pricing system had crashed, so the young clerk had to check me out by using a calculator to add up the cost of each bottle, applying the discount, and then manually typing the total charge into the register that had reverted to a “stone knives and bearskins” backup mode.

She finished totaling up my wine and said, half to me and half to herself:

Clerk: “Three cases at ten percent. That’s thirty percent off.”

I paused for a moment.

Me: “Hang on. I’m going back to grab seven more!”

I thought she’d catch her error and we’d share a laugh.

Instead, she replied, “Okay,” and started moving my cases to the side.

Eventually, we agreed on the proper price, but not until after my first couple of attempts to explain the math. I did earn a belated chuckle from her at the end.

My friend is a pediatric oncologist. In order to protect his patients as best as he possibly can, he has been wearing a mask whenever he goes out, even when it has stopped being recommended and advised.

He, another friend, and I stop by a liquor store one evening. He is the first one to check out, while the other friend and I are still looking around.

He gets to the counter, hands over his ID, and briefly lowers his mask so that the cashier can confirm it is his. All good, he pays for his stuff and steps to the side to wait for us.

This is when, suddenly, a RANDOM CUSTOMER appears.

Random Customer: *To the cashier* “You’re kidding. It’s obvious his ID is fake.”

Cashier: “Your total is $29.45. Cash or card?”

Random Customer: “Nobody’s wearing a mask anymore. Don’t you think it’s suspicious he just happens to wear one to the liquor store?”

Cashier: *Clearly not having it* “Cash or card?”

Random Customer: “You don’t think it’s suspicious that he doesn’t want you to see his face?”

Cashier: “Sir, I need to check the people behind you out. Cash or card?

Random Customer: “You’re not going to do anything about him?”

Cashier: “Sir, he showed me his face. It looks like his ID. Please finish your purchase so I can check other people out.”

The random customer acts all huffy and begins to get his card out. Suddenly, a manager steps over from the side.

Manager: “Sir, may I see your ID?”

Random Customer: “What? I’m clearly over thirty.”

Manager: “Store policy is to card anyone who looks under fifty-five. May I see your ID?”

Random Customer: “…”

The manager takes his purchase and puts it behind the counter.

Manager: “I’m sorry, but I can’t sell to you without a valid ID. We don’t close for another two hours if you’d like to come back with one.”

Random Customer: “…”

Manager: *Motions to the man behind the random customer* “I can take you up here, sir.”

The random customer finally moves and heads to the door, pulls out his phone, and DIALS 911!

Now, my other friend and I are totally invested in this, so we take our time browsing the aisles and “discussing” bottles we’re totally not interested in.

In enters Mr. Policeman!

Mr. Policeman heads over to get the story from both the random customer and the manager. After a moment, he approaches my friend and asks for his ID. He provides it and briefly lowers his mask so that Mr. Policeman can confirm his identity. Mr. Policeman also looks like he’s so over it.

Manager: “We’d prefer if he—” *points to the random customer* “—didn’t return to this location.”

Random Customer: *Flips out* “F*** you. F*** all of you. F*** all of your f****** mothers!”

Mr. Policeman ended up escorting him out. Business as normal resumed in the store. We all bought our booze and the three of us headed outside, where the random customer was arguing over a citation from Mr. Policeman for driving without a valid license.

Related:
No ID, No Idea, Part 50
No ID, No Idea, Part 49
No ID, No Idea, Part 48
No ID, No Idea, Part 47
No ID, No Idea, Part 46

I am a shift lead at my store, meaning I am responsible for training new cashiers and making sure they are up to standard.

Today, I have been asked to watch one of our newer cashiers. She seems like she is very competent, but there have apparently been some questions about her checking IDs.

So far, there have been no issues. She’s been polite, efficient, and generally on point. Then, it happens. A customer comes to pay, and their items include bottles of wine. The customer looks to be in their early twenties, so the policy says to check ID.

Cashier: “Can I please see your ID for the wine?”

Customer: *Fumbling for their ID* “Yeah, sure. It’s been a while since anyone’s asked me for that.”

The customer pulls out a card and shows it to the cashier. At once, I notice an issue, but I stay silent to let [Cashier] do her job.

[Cashier] glances at the card before pressing the “confirmed” button.

Cashier: “All right, thank you. You can insert your card when you’re ready.”

This is when I step in.

Me: “[Cashier]! Please take another look at that card.”

[Cashier] looks at the card again and realizes that the customer accidentally provided what looks like a work ID, with no birthrate or identifying information, instead of a government-issued ID.

The customer realizes their mistake.

Customer: “Oh, I’m sorry about that. I must’ve stuck that card in the wrong place.”

They then provide their actual ID, which confirms that they are, in fact, old enough. I let the cashier finish the transaction but immediately tell her to close down and follow me to the office.

I grab the manager on duty and inform them of the situation.

Manager: “[Cashier], what were you doing? You clearly weren’t actually checking ID. Why?”

Cashier: “Well, I just figured that they must be telling the truth because they gave me an ID.”

Manager: “They didn’t give you an ID. You don’t seem to understand the consequences of selling to someone underage. This will be a write-up, and you’re going to have to be retrained. “

Cashier: “That’s not fair! I didn’t actually break the law, so you can’t punish me.”

Manager: “That certainly isn’t true. You have two choices: accept the write-up and retraining, or we let you go right now.”

She reluctantly accepted the former but was let go a few months later when this happened again.

This story is honestly disgusting. It happened at my husband’s workplace at a liquor store, before the global health crisis. Some of his coworkers smoked. They would leave their cigarette butts in a corner, on the ground, and at the end of the day, one of them would clean up the mess.

There was a middle school about a block away, and a few “brilliant” teenage boys started to notice that some of the cigarettes weren’t fully smoked. They would PICK THEM UP OFF THE GROUND and light them up and smoke them.

They did this a couple of times before my husband caught them in the act and chased them off. He kept tabs on them, and they came by every school day to see if there were any they could salvage. When my husband called the cops, they told him they couldn’t do anything.

After pondering a bit, my husband got an evil idea and set out a sign that said the following:

Sign: “Attention, kids! One of my employees has hepatitis and is one of the smokers here. You need to talk to your parents so they can go get you tested.”

It wasn’t long before he got calls from a couple of angry parents demanding to know why he had “infected [their] little angel[s].”

Hubby simply told them exactly what they had done, smiling an evil little smile the entire time and even offering to show them the camera evidence of the disgusting behavior. The line would go quiet before they thanked him for bringing that to their attention and hung up.

One man even brought his son in to apologize. 

It never ceases to amaze me the things that some dumb teens will do to smoke.

I work for a well-known, large, and family-owned liquor store in my state. Our uniform is a red polo shirt with the company logo. We can wear any color of pants we want, as long as they’re a solid color with no tears or rips.

My location is next door to a well-known big box store that also wears red shirts. I head over one day during work to grab a quick-frozen meal for my lunch break. I’m trying to decide on something when another customer walks up to me.

Customer: “I need help tracking down some bedding you have here in the store.”

At this point, I’m used to other customers thinking I work at this store.

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I don’t work here. I work next door at [Liquor Store]. I’m pretty sure bedding is in the other part of the store.”

I don’t have other customers asking me for help every time, but when it does happen, they’re usually very understanding and make jokes about how great it is to work with a huge amount of alcohol.

Not this customer, though.

Customer: “You shouldn’t be wearing red and a name tag in here if you don’t work here! How was I supposed to know you don’t work for [Store]?!”

Me: “The logo on my shirt and name tag said it for me. I just assumed that telling you I didn’t work here — plus that fact — would have made it more than clear.”

Customer: “I shouldn’t be expected to look at your name tag or shirt! I’m at [Store], and that means only people who work here should wear red! I’m going to speak to your manager!”

I’m thinking this lady isn’t really understanding me.

Me: “Ma’am, like I said, I don’t work here. I work next door. You can’t report me.”

Customer: *After sputtering a bit* “Well, I’ll just go next door to your store and report you to your manager! And then we’ll see what happens!”

Me: “Ma’am, for one, I’m off the clock right now and can say whatever I want. And, two? I am the manager that you’ll be asking to speak to. If you need a nice bottle of wine or some information on single-barrel bourbon, I can help you. Otherwise, there isn’t much that I can do for you.”

The customer stormed off.