A man enters the store, not wearing a mask. We are not allowed to refuse service to people who won’t wear masks. I am wearing my company-mandated mask as he steps up to my till.

Customer: “Where is the gin?!”

Me: “It’s in the gin section, just behind the liqueurs.”

Customer: “I can’t hear you through the mask!”

I stay right where I am and leave my mask on my face where it is supposed to be.

Me: *Shouting* “IT’S IN THE GIN SECTION, RIGHT BEHIND THE LIQUEURS BEHIND YOU!”

I am ringing up customers at around seven at night. A lady with beautiful purple hair and her friend walk up wanting to buy wine.

Me: “I need to see your IDs, please.”

She hands me hers. She’s over twenty-one, but her friend doesn’t have her ID.

Me: “I’m sorry but I can’t legally sell this to you.”

Customer: “But I’m the one buying it?”

Me: “Ma’am, it’s the law. I can’t tell how old your friend is.”

She argues with me more, and I have no idea how to handle it other than to be polite since she is the first customer to really blow up on me.

Customer: “Fine! I’ll send my friend to the car and go find someone who isn’t a c*** to check me out.” *Leaves*

Me: “Ma’am, you forgot your mini Rubik’s cube!”

She comes back and gets it.

Me: “Have a good night!”

I told the manager working and he told me that he would have banned her from buying it if I’d told him sooner about her. Oh, well. Karma has a heck of a bite to lay on her. Be nice to us; we’re trying not to end up in jail!

Related:
No Underage Understanding, Part 2
No Underage Understanding

I’m having a friendly chat with one of the workers at my local bottle shop while checking out, and we get to the topic of the creative excuses people have about providing ID when asked. He has some great stories but my favourite is this little gem.

Worker: “I’ll just need to see some ID before I ring you up, please.”

Customer: “I’ve left my license at home, but I have a photo of my passport info on my phone. Can I use that?”

Worker: “Tell me, if you went through border control at the airport right now, do you think that line would work with them?”

Customer: “Er, no?”

Worker: “So what makes you think it’s going to work here? You can get your alcohol when I see some proper ID. Bye!”

Related:
No ID, No Idea, Part 39
No ID, No Idea, Part 38
No ID, No Idea, Part 37
No ID, No Idea, Part 36
No ID, No Idea, Part 35

I work for a well-known liquor chain in Texas. I’m the wine specialist for my store, and I’m the only woman on the floor, not counting my two managers. I’m five feet tall and weigh about 120 pounds.

This past Saturday was busy for us, and we had people coming in five minutes before we legally had to lock the doors. Liquor stores in Texas are required by law to close at 9:00 pm, and we can’t legally be open on Sundays, so we were slammed. 

One of the customers was this really buff dude. He had to be twice my weight and a foot and a half taller than me. He bought a case of 1.75 liters of vodka, and even though he carried the case up to the checkout counter, he couldn’t be bothered to carry it outside.

The cashier called for customer carryout, and I was the only one on the floor. The look of shock, and then shame on the guy’s face when I slung the case up onto my shoulder and happily escorted him and the case to his truck really made my week.

I go to a liquor store.

Me: “Let me have the larger bottle of [Brand] brandy.”

Clerk: “Sure. Hey! What’s your usual poison?”

Me: “Usually vodka.”

Clerk: “Oh, have I got something for you to try!”

A nearby associate speaks up.

Associate: “Oh, here we go again! You should get a commission on those.”

The clerk shows me a bottle.

Clerk: “Have you tried [some booze I had never heard of]?”

Me: “Nope.”

Clerk: “You’ll like it! It’s a mix of Cognac and vodka. They also have it in apple and peach.”

Me: “Oh, I don’t want flavored ones. Those are always sweet. I love [Expensive Sweet Liquor] but it’s got sugar and I’m on a low-carb diet.”

Clerk: “Okay, but I promise you’ll like this. If not, bring it back and I’ll drink it.”

We all laugh at his little joke.

I get home and pour a little into a Brandy snifter. I take one sip and it is a sweet liquor. It tastes great, but I can’t drink it; I give it to my daughter who can.

Two days later, I’m in line again, this time with some vodka. This time the “here we go again” associate is ringing me up and the original clerk is lingering behind her.

Me: “Hey, dude! Remember the stuff you encouraged me to get?”

Clerk: “Yeah? How did you like it?”

Me: “It was great, but I couldn’t drink it.”

Clerk: “Why not?”

Me: “Remember I told you I couldn’t do sweet drinks? That stuff was syrup.”

Clerk: “Really? I didn’t think it was sweet.”

A customer behind me speaks up.

Customer: “Was it [Recommended Liquor]?”

Clerk: “Yes, that’s it.”

Customer: “Yeah, man, that’s really sweet.”

Clerk: “Wow! I didn’t think it was sweet at all.”

I just shrugged and shook my head. I wasn’t going to act like a jerk about it — especially since I’m a regular there — but I don’t know how someone could drink a sticky, syrupy drink and not know it’s sweet. I’m glad I’m not diabetic.