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I’ve Got That Drinking Feeling

| Right | November 26, 2012

(I’m standing in line at the counter, when an obviously drunk and under-aged boy wanders in. The cashier behind the counter is onto him like a shot.)

Cashier: “Excuse me there, champ. Have you got some ID on you?”

Drunk teen: “No, I don’t. Why?”

Cashier: “I’m going to have to ask you to leave my shop then, champ. Right now, please.”

Drunk teen: “What, just because I have no ID?”

Cashier: “Among other things, yes. You can’t prove you’re 18, and you’re clearly drunk, which means you’re not legally allowed to be in this store. Please don’t be difficult; just leave.”

(The drunk teen makes his way to the exit peacefully, but once past the front door decides to act up.)

Drunk teen: “Well, f*** you! F*** you and get f***ed! I’ll f***ing be here if I want to f***ing be here!” *flips both middle fingers at the cashier*

(The cashier, who is far taller and broader than he appears while he’s behind the counter, moves into the doorway to prevent the teen re-entering.)

Cashier: *very calmly* “No, you won’t. Now you’re becoming both an annoyance and a disturbance. You’d better get out of here quick smart, before something happens that you’ll regret later.”

Drunk teen: “F*** you! I’m gonna bash you man! I’m gonna beat your face!”

Cashier: *cracks up laughing* “Champ, I doubt you could even beat yourself off at this point.” *takes a step outside the shop* “Please though, take a swing. Give me the excuse.”

(At this point it apparently dawns on the teen that’s he’s in way over his head and his attempt at intimidation has failed miserably. The cashier seems quite willing to make an example of him.)

Drunk teen: “Uh… uh… I’m… I’m gonna hurt you man!”

Cashier: *icily, dangerously calm* “No. You’re going to apologise to the customers for annoying them, you’re going to apologise to me for annoying me, and then you’re going to leave, very quickly, before I put my size 14s so far up your arse your kids are born with tread-marks on their faces, so help me God.”

(The drunk teen starts to stammer out something, but is interrupted.)

Cashier: *in a very convincing and menacing Bale-Batman voice* “Get the f*** out of here. Now!”

(The teen flees at his top speed, bumping into and tripping over everything in his path. We all give the cashier a huge round of applause, and an elderly couple high-fived him!)

Fighting Hire With Fire, Part 2

| Working | November 13, 2012

(One day, I hear shouting outside my office. I am subsequently paged by one of my cashiers, who has some slight mental retardation, but is nonetheless an excellent worker. Upon walking to the front of the store, I see he’s with a customer dressed in an odd ensemble of a sports jacket, pink dress shirt, slacks and shoes without socks.)

Me: “Hi, is there a problem?”

Cashier: *is about to speak, but is cut off by the customer*

Customer: “I’ll say there is! I gave this guy a twenty to pay for my $11.00 bottle of wine, and he gave me back a five! I can’t believe you have such dishonest scum working here!!”

(I check the customer’s receipt and see it adds up properly. I look over at the cashier, who is a tad pale and looks like he’s about to start crying from the verbal abuse earlier.)

Me: “Why don’t you come with me into my office? I’ll count his drawer up in there and see if he made a mistake.”

(The customer looks pleasantly surprised and follows me to the back. No sooner have I set cashier’s drawer down then he slaps a sheet of paper on top of it.)

Customer: “Good! Well, if you have a moment, I’d like to put in for a job here. The staff is definitely incompetent, so you really must need someone to fix this place up.”

(I glance down at the paper, which turns out to be a CV. At the top the customer has listed his preferred positon as ‘Store Manager or General Manager’.)

Me: “Okay, first off, sir, we’re actually fully staffed at the moment so I don’t really have any open spots I can hire you for. Second off, company policy is to promote managers from inside the store, not just take some random person off the street. Third off, I AM the store manager and have no intention of leaving my position any time soon so I’m not looking for replacements. If you’re serious about working here, I’d advise you to fill out an application for a cashier or sales associate and focus on working your way up.”

Customer: “But… but I have a college degree!”

Me: “So do several million other people in this state. In fact, the cashier that you claimed short changed you just now is due to graduate with a Bachelors in Computer Science this year.”

Customer: “Wha… him?! But he’s an idiot!”

Me: “No, he has a minor form of cerebral palsy, and has been working hard to overcome it for years. I must say I’m actually quite impressed that he’s managed to maintain such a solid work ethic and get himself through school in spite of his disability. Now, let’s see if he did in fact make a mistake on your purchase…”

(I count up the drawer, and it balances perfectly. The customer looks increasingly despondent as I do this.)

Me: “Well, it seems to be correct right down to the penny. Are you sure he only gave you back $5 in change?”

Customer: “Well… um… I may have been mistaken.” *leaves*


In A Tsary State, Part 2

| Right | October 9, 2012

(A group of three Russian 20-somethings comes in; they’re unaware that I also speak Russian. Note: state law in Massachusetts says I have to card everyone in a group in order to sell them alcohol.)

Me: “May I see your IDs?”

(Two give me their IDs, but one doesn’t have it on him.)

Customer: “He’s not drinking.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but I need his ID anyway. State law: I have to card the whole group.”

Customer: “But he’s not drinking.”

Me: “If you don’t all have IDs, I can’t sell this to you. Sorry, guys.”

(The man without his ID goes to their car to get it. He returns, I check it, and proceed to run the credit card through, but the customer is clearly upset by this minor inconvenience. I print out the receipt and the customer signs the store copy.)

Customer: *in Russian* “Here you go, b****.”

Me: *also in Russian* “Thank you! Bye bye, now!”

(I have never seen anyone leave the store that quickly before in my life!)


The Faux-teen Of Youth

| Right | September 19, 2012

(Working in a liquor store one night, a male who looks about 16 enters the store. Please note: this happened in 2009.)

Customer: *places beers on the counter* “Hi, I’ll just have these, thanks, and a bottle of rum.”

Me: “Uh, sure mate. I’ll need to see some ID first.”

(The customer produces ID, and it looks real—his photo on it, holograms where they should be—but one thing stands out: his DOB says he was born in 1929.)

Me: “So. 1929 huh? You sure don’t look 80 to me.”

Customer: “I’m over 18 though, aren’t I?”

Me: “I think you better get out of my store before I call the cops, Gramps.”

(The kid left the beer on the counter and ran off. He also left his ID, which I kept to show off to my friends. We all had a good laugh about it!)

Lightening In A Bottle

| Right | August 9, 2012

(The wine store I work at has a fully functional bar. On this particular night, the store is very busy as we are having a wine tasting that is open to the public. This day also happens to be the one before my birthday. I am mixing a drink for a well-to-do regular customer).

Customer: “So, how have you been lately?”

Me: “Pretty good.”

Customer: “What time will you be in tomorrow?”

Me: “I actually have the day off. It is my birthday.”

Customer: “Oh, is it? Did [owner] get you anything nice?”

Me: “I doubt it.”

Customer: “Well, that is too bad. Hey, could you help me find a good Portuguese wine?”

(For the next ten minutes, I show him red blends, Riojas, and other wonderful Portuguese wines.)

Customer: “If you could get any of these, which would you get?”

Me: “Well, that depends. Most of these are out of my price range, but this $10.99 bottle would be great.”

Customer: “But I want the best one that is over here, regardless of price.”

(I show him a really good one that is $60 a bottle.)

Customer: “I want this one. Can I buy it, set it on the counter, and enjoy some more drinks at the bar?”

Me: “Absolutely!”

(The customer stays for a few more hours talking to me about the college I had went to, and jobs I am interested in. About an hour before closing, he says it is time to go, and heads to the counter where his purchases are still sitting. I proceed to clean up the bar as he approaches me.)

Customer: “I thought it a shame that a person as friendly and knowledgable as you didn’t get a birthday gift after working here for years. This is yours.”

(He hands me a wrapped bag, and when I unwrap it, it is the expensive wine I had recommended. As I look up to thank him, he is already out the door, but he gives me a wave and a large smile. It is people like that who make working a minimum wage job worth it!)