Asking For IDs Shouldn’t Be Foreign To Him

, , , | Right | December 15, 2018

(I work in a popular west coast liquor store chain, and I am working at the main register. In my state, we must ID the entire group if they all appear under 40, with the exception of it being a parent and child. A couple comes up to the register.)

Me: “Just this for you today?”

Female Customer: “Yes.”

Me: “Okay. May I see your IDs, please?”

(She hands me hers without question. I check it, scan it, and hand it back.)

Me: “Sir, may I see yours?”

Male Customer: “I’m not buying anything; you don’t need to see my ID.”

Me: “Our state laws require that I card everyone in the group.”

Male Customer: “That’s bulls**t! Fine! I’m not with her!”

Me: “Doesn’t work that way, sir. I’ve seen you with her, so I know you’re with her.”

Male Customer: “Whatever! Fine! I’ll buy this [Chocolate Bar], separate from her.”

Me: “Sir, now my company policy requires me to ID you. You must be 21 to purchase anything in here.”

Male Customer: “F***! Fine! Here!”

(He finally hands me his ID, and I immediately cringe. It’s a foreign ID. We can accept these, but since most of them don’t scan, like his, we must call over a manager to check the ID. I see my manager less than 20 feet from me, so this won’t take long.)

Me: “All right, sir I am allowed to accept this; however, I just have to call over my manager to check it. It won’t—”

Male Customer: “Just give it back to me, you f***! We’ll buy it somewhere else!”

(They walk out without buying anything.)

Me: *to the next customer in line* “He was nice.”

(Is This The Way To) Amaretto?

, , , , , | Working | December 13, 2018

(I walk into the liquor store and see two clerks on the floor chatting about stock.)

Me: “Excuse me. Do you know where I would find Amaretto?”

Both Clerks: *in unison* “Yes.”

Me: “…”

Both Clerks: “…”

(I walked away to find it myself.)

Sober, But Lighter On Sanity

, , , | Right | November 14, 2018

(A sober, middle-aged woman brings a pint of vermouth to the register.)

Me: “Hello there. That will be $6.49.”

Woman: *holds out a used lighter from her purse*

Me: *knowing this is not a lighter from our store and that she is not trying to purchase it* “Umm, that will be $6.49.”

Woman: *gestures that she insists I take the lighter*

Me: “Will that be cash, check, or credit?”

Woman: *looks at the lighter, then at me, and gestures again*

Me: “I’m sorry, we don’t take lighters here.”

Woman: *holds lighter and waits, and then leaves store without bottle, but keeps the lighter*

Me: “???”

The Mother Of All Fake IDs

, , , , | Right | November 12, 2018

(I work in a liquor store.)

Me: “Can I see your ID, please?”

Customer: “Sure.”

(He hands me his driver’s license.)

Me: “You’re not 21. I can’t sell to you, I’m sorry.”

Customer: “Oh, I gave you the wrong one.”

(He takes the license back and hands me a different one. Curious why he would think this would work, I take a good look at the second ID: different birthday, different name, different picture. Then, I realize…)

Me: “Is this your mother?”

(I didn’t sell to him.)

Wearing The Vest Of A Slave

, , , | Right | October 26, 2018

(I work in a well-known big box store whose employees wear a distinctive vest with a logo on the back. I am wearing my vest when I stop at the liquor store. I am looking at wine when this happens.)

Woman: “Excuse me.”

(Thinking she is trying to pass, I step closer to the shelves to allow her to pass. She clears her throat and says even louder:)

Woman: “Excuse me! I’m looking for [Fancy Brand] of wine.”

Me: “I don’t work here, sorry.”

Woman: *rolling her eyes* “I know that. You work at [Big Box Store]. You have your vest on. So, hop to it.”

Me: “What?”

Woman: *snaps* “It’s a law. If you don’t help me, I’m going to call the police!”

(A man, I assume her husband, comes over and takes her arm. He gives me an “I’m sorry” look and leads her away.)

Woman: *yelling* “You’re required by law to help me! You’re wearing the vest!”

(I sometimes feel like slave labor when I work at [Big Box Store], but I had no idea that the vest actually made me one.)

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