Unfiltered Story #133395

, , , | Unfiltered | December 18, 2018

I was a customer at a local Walmart, when I was done collecting the items I wanted, I walked up to the checkout and got in line.
It was rather empty, and there were few employees.
Only about 9 were on duty, and we only had a small handful of people shopping.
Roughly 5 in line, and roughly 10 shopping.

I looked to the front of the line and I saw a middle-aged man with a baseball cap on purchasing his items.

He looked pretty buff to be honest, he was built like an ox.
Something felt off about him, but nothing for sure was wrong with the guy, I figured he had a tough workout, he was sweating a lot, and it was in the middle of winter, the only thing I could assume is that he went to the gym across the street.

I saw nothing peculiar here, except when the cashier started to analyze the money he presented.

Customer: *notices the cashier examining the money* “Oh, I printed it fresh this morning,”

Cashier: …

After a pause, the customer turned red. Angry red.


The cashier jumped a little and stared at the man.

The entire line was startled.

The whole store started staring.

The customer still had the same irate features.
Customer: HUH? WHY NOT?

Just to clarify, the cashier was also white.


The cashier, now horrified, called his manager over.

The manager bolted across the store over to the check out section and the man turned to the manager.


The manager had a look of utter shock.


The manager quickly got out his walkie-talkie that was strapped to his leg and called security.

The customer looked insanely angry at this point.

He threw objects like staples, pencils, and snacks on the nearby shelves at employees while shouting profanities and screaming like a fussy baby on an airplane.

He took a swing at the cashier, but hit the wall behind it, cracking one of his knuckles, which just sent him into a fit of rage.

He started to randomly hit walls and shelves with his fists and head, and his forehead was already bleeding when he hit concrete walling instead of drywall.

He picked up an action figure from a nearby shelf and bit off the head, of which he proceeded to swallow.

The cashier behind the counter, now literally under it, phoned the police, 2 patrol officers came and noticed the guards already trying to subdue the man.

It took 4 security guards and 2 police officers to restrain, subdue, and arrest him.

He had to be tased twice.


, , , , , , | Right | December 14, 2018

(I’m a cashier at my store’s café section, which includes a ten-item-or-less register near the gelato case, coffee bar, and hot food heating tables. A woman comes up.)

Customer: “I want ice cream!”

Me: “Well, we have gelato there…”

Customer: “I don’t want gelato; I want ice cream!”

Me: “Well, we have ice cream in our freezer section?”

Customer: “I want it prepared for me in a dish!”

Me: “You could get a spoon; people buy containers of it and eat them in here all the time.”

Customer: “I want ice cream, now!”

Me: “Ma’am, the closest thing we have to that is gelato, which is like ice cream.”

Customer: “See? Was that so hard?”

(She goes to the gelato counter. My supervisor is now on the next register, counting the change inside. She gives me a look that says, “What the heck?”)

Customer: *irate still* “You lied to me! You said you had ice cream, and she told me you didn’t!” *pointing to the girl behind the counter* “How dare you?!”

Supervisor: “Ma’am, she didn’t tell you we have ice cream in our gelato case. That’s what you wanted to hear. Now, either buy some of the ice cream we do have or leave.”

Customer: “You just lost a customer! I knew I shouldn’t have come in here! I knew you’d hire stupid people who can’t afford college!”

Supervisor: “If you’ve never bought anything from us, you’re not really a customer, yet. I’m not giving you that chance, though. Please leave the store.”

(With a huff, she walks away.)

Supervisor: “So, what just happened?”

Me: “I don’t even know anymore.”

Supervisor: “So, break time?”

Me: “Definitely.”

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Behaving Like An Old Bag

, , , , | Right | November 21, 2018

(I work as a banquet server in a hotel. We often do conference-style buffets, meaning we set everything up and then need to bus the tables as quickly as possible before the meeting starts. Upon passing one of the guests I notice a napkin and a used tea bag on her plate, which is slightly pushed away. Naturally, I attempt to clear it, and apparently, my coworker tried to do the same thing just minutes before.)

Lady: “What do you think you’re doing?”

Me: “Oh, I am so sorry, ma’am; I thought you were done.”

Lady: “DON’T YOU TOUCH MY PLATE!” *scowl* “And get me your manager, now!

Me: “Sure, right away, ma’am.”

Manager: “How may I help you?”

Lady: “The one with glasses—” *my coworker* “—and the skinny, [race] one—” *me* “—were trying to clear my plate while I WASN’T DONE WITH IT YET! I want them both fired!”

(She goes on a long rant about incompetent servers.)

Manager: “Okay, ma’am, I will talk to them.”

(We explained our side of the story. The manager just laughed and said that of course we were in no trouble whatsoever, since we did nothing wrong. Instead, he recounted the events to the party contact, who also happened to be the lady’s boss. She was appalled at her employee’s behavior and told him they would have a talk. I also proceeded to inform the rest of the servers about the lady, and we all agreed to stay as far away from her as possible during the next course, meaning that everyone’s plates got cleared except hers. The last thing I heard from her before bidding farewell to the entire group was more grumbling about “lazy servers who can’t even clear a plate.”)

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Pop Goes Their Chance Of Getting One

, , , , , | Friendly | October 18, 2018

(My friend invites me to a sports day held by his work, mainly because I have a car so I can drive him up. As it is the middle of summer, I pack a small cooler with some drinks for us, and I throw in a package of “freezie pops,” as well. We meet up with some other friends who also work there, and we are sharing the freezie pops between us when a woman walks up, followed by two kids.)

Woman: “Where did you get those?” *pointing at the freezie pops*

Me: “Oh, we actually brought them ourselves, since we figured it would be so hot. Do–”

Woman: *cutting me off* “We’ll take four.”

Me: *pausing, then plastering on a big smile* “Sorry, we only brought enough for us.”

(At that, the woman makes to lunge at the cooler, but I block her path with my body.)

Me: “Ex-cuse you!”

(She huffs, then stomps away as her kids begin whining about not getting freezie pops.)

Me: *opening up the cooler to reveal the dozen or so freezie pops we have left* “So, anyone want seconds?”

(Seriously, I’d been about to offer that woman some, but not with that kind of attitude. It’d be one thing if she asked nicely, but with just that demand, there was no way I was giving her squat.)

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Shoot Them A Joke If You Shoot Me Some Insulin

, , , , | Right | October 2, 2018

(I work for a company that does underwriting for loan programs in other states, and thus talk to a lot of contractors. I’m also a type-two diabetic who occasionally has blood sugar crashes. I’ve just explained to a contractor what he needs in order to get paid on a job, which his client insists has already been taken care of, and I am feeling the light-headed wooziness that comes with a blood sugar crash.)

Me: *trying to get through the call quickly to go get something to eat* “Is there anything else I can help you with today, sir?”

Contractor: “Yeah… Could you just shoot me?”

Me: “Sir, I can’t do that; it’s illegal. Also, you’re in New Jersey and I’m in Wisconsin; that’s crossing state lines, and I don’t want to get the FBI involved.”

Coworker: *snorts, then starts laughing*

Contractor: *quiet for a second, then bursts out laughing* “Fair enough! Have a good night!”

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