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No One Knows What Patience Means Anymore

, , , | Right | CREDIT: PanicPilots27 | May 11, 2022

I work at a small booth in a tourist area. The booth is part of a larger marketplace that opens at 10:00 am. This particular morning, the bus system was running late, so I didn’t show up to open until 10:15. Additionally, my boss wanted me to do last night’s register report. Before we open, all of our merchandise is covered by bedsheets and the lights are all off. I kept it this way while I did the report so no one would think that we were open yet, as customers were around looking at other booths.

As I was sitting there, a man and his daughter walked up and started picking up the bedsheets themselves to look at our stuff. I didn’t notice until they walked up to the register, which was very obviously off and still covered with a bedsheet, as well.

The guy tried to hand me what they wanted to buy without even acknowledging me. I started to explain that we were not open yet, and before I could ask him to give me a few minutes, he threw the merch down on the bedsheet and stomped off.

The part that really upsets me is that he emailed the company and tried to say that I was an hour late — my timestamp says otherwise — and refused him service. Thankfully, my boss was understanding.

The Couponator 33: The Double Cross

, , , , | Right | March 31, 2022

I regularly sell my handmade crafts at a monthly stall. I’ve taken a deal out with the organisers that, for free advertising online, I will run a coupon-type discount. If customers show me the page, they get a pound off any of the small bookmarks or coasters I make.

I’m expecting a pretty good month, so I bring a friend along to help.

Things go pretty well, and we start to get more and more people using the coupon. All is going okay until this woman walks up; she sneers at everything and asks for discounts before buying one of the biggest items.

Friend: “That will be [amount].”

Customer: “I think you will find I have a coupon.”

She flashes her phone around.

Friend: “Sorry, but that’s only for the bookmarks.”

Customer: “It doesn’t say that! You’re trying to rob me!”

Friend: “It really does, right on the page you have open there.”

Customer: “That’s not good enough! I want to see your manager!”

Friend: “Well, I don’t have a manager, really, but—”

Me: “That’s okay, I’ll take over. I’m the owner, I guess.”

Customer: “I have a discount that your employee refuses to take.”

Me: “Let me see. Yes, that applies to bookmarks normally, but I can make an exception.”

Customer: “Finally, some sense.”

Me: “Oh, and because of your purchase, I can offer one of our bookmarks for 50p.”

Customer: “Oh, yes, I will take one.”

She walked off happy about getting her own way, completely unaware that she had just gotten the coupon as I intended.

The Couponator 32: Attack Of The Rulebreaker
The Couponator 31: Saved By The Next Generation
The Couponator 30: Managerial Override
The Couponator 29: A Cents-less Tragedy
The Couponator 28: Panic Attack!

Can’t Hear You Over The Sound Of Your Testicles

, , , , | Right | March 9, 2022

I’m a cis straight man who enjoys sewing, knitting, and cross-stitching. I have a small online shop where I sell several items I’ve made and take requests for custom orders, but I generally refuse to sell in person unless I have a lot of extra stuff to get rid of. Usually, this just means renting a booth at a local flea market.

One summer weekend, I decide to rent a booth at the flea market, with my girlfriend helping me for the weekend. A man in his late twenties or early thirties approaches my booth and speaks to my girlfriend.

Customer: “Hi, do you have any scarves here? I’m looking for a birthday present for my girlfriend, and she loves these kinds of homemade things.”

Girlfriend: “Aww, that’s sweet! I’m sorry, but what you see here is all that we have left. I don’t see any scarves, so we must be sold out. You could always talk to [My Name] over there and see about getting a custom-made scarf!”

Customer: *Still talking to my girlfriend* “That could work. When could you have it shipped to me?”

Girlfriend: “You would need to talk to [My Name]. He makes everything. I’m just here helping him out!”

Customer: *Turning to me with a sneer* “Oh, you made this stuff?”

Me: “Yep, I did!”

Customer: “Were you raised by two [homophobic slurs for gay men] or something? Seriously, bro? Sewing?”

Me: “You need to leave my booth now.”

Customer: *Realizing I’m not going to react to his taunts* “Wait, I still need a gift for my girlfriend. Do you have an online store or something?”

I see my girlfriend quietly hiding the business cards that advertise my online store, because she knows I refuse to do business with people like him whenever possible, including online.

Me: “Nope. Please leave now.”

Customer: “What the f***, dude? I just need a gift for my girl. Are you a f****** [homophobic slur] or something, who only sells to other [homophobic slurs]? Give me a f****** scarf or something!”

Several nearby police officers — always a common presence at this flea market, because they are allowed to browse themselves as long as they are still ready to perform their duty — arrived before he could turn physically violent, and they escorted him not only away from my booth, but out of the flea market entirely. My girlfriend and I closed the booth for a while to wander around the market and cool down, but we still managed to sell out of everything we brought with us. I also took several orders for custom work from people who were happy to support me after I stood my ground against a bigoted bully.

When Their Brains Are As Empty As The Cases They Stole

, , , , , , | Right | February 15, 2022

I help my uncle run his market stall. It’s very popular; he sells second-hand video games and consoles. Prices are better than most shops, and while the games are a little older, he knows his stuff and only buys the better titles.

A woman and her child come to the stall with a game in hand.

Customer: “My son bought this game the other day, and when he got it home, it was empty.”

Me: “Can I see the case?”

The case is for an eighteen-rated game. The boy looks fifteen at most. I know I didn’t serve him, and my uncle is very strict on this sort of thing. But maybe he got a friend to buy it for him.

Me: “Okay, I’m sorry this happened. Do you remember who served you?”

Customer’s Son: “I don’t know, a woman.”

There are no women that work here.

Me: “Okay, and when was this?”

Customer: “Can’t we hurry this up? He wants his game.”

Me: “Of course, but if I know when, I can find where the game has been put.”

This is a lie, but I must have told it convincingly.

Customer’s Son: “Er, Monday or Tuesday?”

Customer: “It was Monday, as I had my hair appointment. Can we have the game now, please?!”

Me: “Sure, do you have the receipt?”

Customer’s Son: “No, I lost it.”

Me: “Funny, I thought you were going to say that. Because there are no women that work here, and the cases on the shelves are empty because people steal them.”

Customer: “How dare you accuse my son?! I will call the police, the paper, I will make sure everyone knows what sort of—”

Me: “Oh, shut up. He stole it, and while he was standing there lying to the both of us, I found the video from Monday, proving he stole it.” *To him* “I’m not sure how you missed the signs that the cases are empty and the signs about the camera, but here we are.”

The customer tells her son off; mainly, it seems for embarrassing her and not actually for stealing. She turns back to me.

Customer: “Okay, so can I buy the game now?”

Me: “Sorry, it’s rated eighteen, and I know you’re buying it for a child.”

Customer: “It’s for me.”

Me: “I doubt that. Next, please.”

She made a scene, but being a marketplace, everyone just kind of ignored her or thought it was funny. My uncle’s only comment was that he wished he had been there to see it. Business is as busy as it ever has been.

Thanks For The Moral Support, I Guess

, , , , , | Friendly | February 13, 2022

My parents are in their eighties and both are very active in their church, so much so that Dad often laments that he feels they are taken advantage of. Mum doesn’t see it that way, constantly telling us how much support she gets from the church. She always does more than her fair share; Dad is always there to support her.

It’s just before Christmas and they are running a fundraising stall at a local craft market. The weather is horrible; it’s very hot and humid, and the wind is threatening to blow their shade cover away. Dad is holding down one of the edges while Mum is making sure the stock isn’t flying away.

I notice one of the church ladies sitting in a chair in the middle of the stall as I approach. I choose to buy a couple of things. Mum serves me, and as she is counting out change, another customer approaches.

[Church Lady] doesn’t move from her chair.

Church Lady: “[Mum], there’s a customer.”

Mum is concentrating on getting my change, so the lady raises her voice more.

Church Lady: “[MUM]! There’s a customer!”

Mum quickly hands me my change and turns to serve the customer. I notice that this happens a few more times; she pretty much orders Mum to serve customers while never leaving her seat. I was going to head home but I decide to stay for a little while helping to tie the shade cover down and collect items that have blown off the table.

Dad: “Maybe we should pack up early. The wind is really picking up, and there’s a storm coming.”

Church Lady: “Yes, I think that’s a good idea. I think it’s definitely time to leave. This is so tiring.”

She stands up and grabs her bag.

Church Lady: “Okay, see you on Sunday.”

And then she left my parents to pack up the stall. Dad just shook his head as he started packing. Mum, as usual, couldn’t see a problem; she raved about how much help it was having the woman there. But for the hour and a half that I was there, the woman didn’t leave her seat.