Hunting Down The Scavengers

, , , | Right | June 17, 2019

(The mall I work in has a No Solicitation policy. They also frequently have tween and teen groups doing scavengers hunts. Ten minutes after opening on a Saturday, a group of seven girls, around age fourteen, walks in with two adults. While I know they are on a scavenger hunt, there isn’t anything I can do until they actually out themselves and/or break store policy by taking pictures. As they look around the store, I can hear them whispering to each other about what products will work for items on their list.)

Girl: *holding up a pack of tissue paper* “How much will this cost?”

Me: “$2.95”

Girl: *to group* “Well, this would work for #5, since it’s pink!”

Girl’s Mom: “That’s a lot of money for one item… Maybe you can just get one piece?”

Girl: *to me* “Do you sell single sheets?”

Me: “No, I’m sorry. They only come in the pack of eight sheets.”

Girl: “Do you have any swatches or samples we could have for free?”

Me: “No, I’m sorry, and we don’t participate in scavenger hunts.”

(Mind you, I haven’t actually asked them to leave at this point; I’ve just made it clear that we won’t be participating.)

Girl’s Mom: “EXCUSE ME?! What makes you think this is a scavenger hunt?!”

Me: “I can tell.”

Girl’s Mom: “No, I want to know exactly why you’re refusing service to my daughter!”

Me: “Ma’am, you brought a group of teenage girls into a specialty boutique whose typical demographic is middle-aged women. They are holding a printed-out, numbered list, and discussing what they can get to qualify for those numbers. They asked for free merchandise. All of those are tell-tale signs of a scavenger hunt, which is, by the way, in violation of the mall’s No Solicitation policy. But do correct me if I’m wrong about any of this.”

Girl’s Mom: “I want to speak to your manager!”

Me: “Ma’am, I am the store manager.”

Girl’s Mom: “Well, how do you expect to do any business if you won’t participate in community events?!”

Me: “Your daughter’s birthday party is not a community event. And I expect to make a profit by not giving away merchandise to teenagers who are never going to spend a dime in my high-end store.”

Girl’s Mom: “Come on, girls; let’s go somewhere else!”

(I promptly called my buddies in the security office, and later saw the group being escorted through the mall, I can only assume to the exit.)

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He Was In Arizona All Along

, , , , , , | Romantic | June 14, 2019

(While we’re at the mall, I sit down at a table to take a break while my wife wanders off to look in [National Candle Store Chain]. When she comes back, she is grinning and can barely contain her laughter.)

Me: “What are you laughing at?”

Wife: “Well, I saw a post on the Internet about a specific candle scent. Apparently, someone claimed it smelled like the perfect man. The post has a lot of replies with variations on the theme of, ‘I went and smelled it, and you were right; it is the scent of the perfect man!’ So, I was curious and had to go smell it myself.”

Me: “And? What did it smell like?”

Wife: “You!”

Me: *confused* “What?”

Wife: “It is the same scent as your body wash!”

(I don’t mean to brag, but… I have multiple people on the Internet claiming that I’m the perfect man. I still tease my wife about this.)

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The World Is Spinning

, , , , | Friendly | June 13, 2019

(I’m in a wheelchair. My partner rolls me into the elevator. An elderly man grabs my handlebars from her and pulls and shifts me until he’s turned me around completely. I’m panicking too much to speak.)

Elderly Man: “There you go, sweetie!”

(We were both in shock as he exited the elevator, not even riding it. He never spoke to either of us, aside from what I wrote. Would you grab a walking person and forcibly turn them around?!)

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What It Takes To Piss Off A Canadian

, , , , , | Right | May 27, 2019

(I am a Canadian visiting family in Alabama. I am at a mall with my aunt, but we have separated for a bit for some personal shopping time. I am in line to pay behind a white-haired white woman who is behind a younger African-American woman. I am kind of in my own world until I notice how hunched the African-American woman’s shoulders are as she steadfastly keeps her back to us as she unloads her cart. Then, I notice what the white woman in front of me is saying, and hoo boy, is it racist. I plonk my shopping basket down where I am standing and storm around to the white woman’s face and go off. I don’t say anything especially coherent, just a string of abuse, punctuated with demands for her to leave. She tries to respond, but I grow to a level, screaming pitch. Security comes up to break it up, but I don’t stop. A manager appears, but I don’t stop. I won’t stop until the horrible woman drops her basket and storms out of the store.)

Security: “Ma’am, you have to leave.”

Me: “One sec.”

(I turn to the African-American woman who is standing there, tears running down her face.)

Me: *to the cashier* “How much will her stuff cost?”

Cashier: *silence*

Security: “Ma’am! You have to leave.”

(I can see that the total is about $20 and about half her stuff has been input.)

Me: *to the cashier* “What do you think? Like fifty bucks?”

Cashier: *still silence*

Security: “Ma’am!”

(I pull $50 out of my bag — as a tourist, I have quite a bit of cash on me — and put it on the last of her items on the counter. Turning to the African-American woman:)

Me: “The whole world isn’t like her.”

(I allowed myself to be escorted from the store. When I found my aunt, she angrily reminded me that there was a real chance I could have been shot for that – Canadians don’t think of that – and she made us leave the mall.)

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Customers That Belong In Straight-Jackets

, , , , , , | Right | May 16, 2019

(My store is currently having a sale where customers get 50% off their highest-priced item as long as their total is over $100. A lady comes up to my register. She’s only buying one jacket, but it costs $140, so she’ll get the discount. I get her phone number so that she can also get her [Store] membership discount of an additional 5%. The membership discount rings up automatically, but in order to get the 50% discount, I have to enter a code. I scan the jacket, turn to put it on the counter behind me to get it out of my way, and then turn back, preparing to type in the discount code. Before I can, however:)

Customer: *squinting suspiciously at the total that’s displayed on the card reader’s screen* “Wait, that’s not quite right, is it? This jacket should be $100. And don’t I get 50% off? I won’t buy it any other way.”

Me: “Yep, it is 50% off. I just have to type in a code and then it’ll show up. And you also get an extra 5% off because you’re a [Store] member!”

(I type in the code, which brings the total down to somewhere above $70 after tax. This is usually the part where the customer says, “Much better!” and possibly even apologizes for their impatience, and pays. Not this lady, though.)

Customer: *still squinting at the card reader’s display* “Okay… Hold on…”

(She actually pulls out her phone and starts typing numbers into the calculator. I just facepalm internally and wait, because no, this is not, in fact, the first time a customer has pulled out their calculator to double-check that our register has done the math correctly — the register that probably uses the exact same software as their phone’s app to do the calculation.)

Customer: “Okay, hang on. I’m getting a different number than what’s displaying here. So, starting with the original price of $140, minus a 6% discount—”

Me: *interrupting, trying to get ahead of a possible angry tirade* “It’s a 5% discount.”

Customer: “Oh, it’s 5%? Okay, that might be it.”

(She then retypes in all the math she has just done, having to start over again multiple times because she keeps typing things in wrong. I try my best to wait patiently, but I have about a million things I’m supposed to be doing, and I’m not even supposed to be putting up with this in the first place; I’m only there to fill in for a coworker who called out sick. At last, she finishes her calculations and I guess she comes up with the same total as the register because she finally agrees to pay.)

Customer: “I mean, 50% just seems like such a big amount, y’know? But I guess not.”

(It’s 50%. It took off half the price of the jacket. What do you want?)  

Customer: *as she’s taking her receipt and the bag with the jacket in it* “I’m not even sure I like this jacket. I might have to return it if I can’t find anything to wear it with. And the buttons are a bit too much, don’t you think? I might have to put smaller buttons on it.”

(And that is the story of how a customer wasted five minutes of my time quibbling over the price of a jacket she didn’t even want in the first place. I will never understand humans.)

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