The Easter Bunny Has Learned To Avoid Black Friday

, , , , , , | Right | April 21, 2019

(I work at a chocolate store and it is Easter time, the craziest time of the year, when customers are desperate to grab chocolate before somebody else does. I’ve seen a lot of arguments break out over chocolate eggs and whatnot, but never an incident like this before.)

Old Lady: *seems like a sweet little lady* “Hello, dear. I was wondering if you could show me where the chocolate bunnies are? I need one for my grandson.”

Me: “Of course, ma’am. I’d be more than happy to help.”

(I show her, and it looks like there’s only one more left on the shelf. She takes it and thanks me.)

Me: “Well, you’re in luck! That’s the last one. The registers are over here, ma’am, and thank you for shopping with us.”

(She is extremely polite throughout the whole exchange and goes on her way. Less than a minute later:)

Customer: “Do you have any chocolate bunnies? I really need one.”

Me: *cringes, knowing what’s going to happen* “Um, actually, that lady there just took the last one… so…”

(The customer immediately takes off, and I can see her yelling at the little old lady. The lady is calm, though, and when the other customer stops to catch her breath, the old lady pulls out A TASER and threatens her with it. She doesn’t get angry or anything. The customer pales and runs away, apologizing. This freaks me the h*** out. I don’t even know if tasers are legal here, or what. I walk over to her, praying.)

Me: “Uh… ma’am… I… your taser…” *sweating nervously*

Old Lady: *laughs* “Oh, sorry, dear. Did I scare you? It doesn’t work; there are no batteries in it. See?” *presses button, nothing happens* “I’ve been carrying it around since I went Black Friday shopping last year. Thank you again for your help!” *leaves*

(I don’t even want to know what happened last year on Black Friday.)

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Unfiltered Story #139481

, , , | Unfiltered | February 12, 2019

[I work at a store that is part of a national chain and so when customers call the store, they get an automated menu that not only tells them the store’s location but the store /hours/ as well before giving options to talk to different people in the store. There is NO WAY to avoid this automated message.]

Me: [answering the phone] Thank you for calling [Store] in [Location], where you can expect great things. This is [My Name] speaking, how may I help you?
Customer: Yeah what time do you close?

Colliding With The Collada Customer

, , , , | Right | January 31, 2019

(I work in the restaurant of a bowling alley on the opening shift, which gets pretty busy on the weekends, especially with birthday parties. On this day, I am working register while two coworkers prepare food — one is manning the fryer and grill, the other assembling platters and plates of food to put up on an adjacent counter for pick-up — and a third makes pizzas in the back. As cashier, my job includes making drink orders, including coffees. We are on the tail end of a big rush thanks to a birthday party not pre-ordering their food, and I am finishing up the line when a male customer orders a collada: a Cuban coffee, which is basically an espresso shot with a heaping ton of sugar mixed in. I don’t think anything of it, and it takes no more than ninety seconds to make the coffee and hand it over after payment. About ten minutes later, while I am grabbing a couple pitchers for another customer’s soda, my coworkers call for my attention.)

Coworker #1: “Did you make a collada?”

Me: “Yeah, not that long ago. Why?”

Coworker #2: “This lady says it’s ice cold.”

(Of course, I am baffled. Unless the machine has learned how to brew coffee with cold water, there is no way it should already be cold. Still, [Coworker #2] goes about making another coffee while I finish the soda pitchers, still mulling over the accusation. The complaining customer moves in front of the register, and it is an older woman, not the man I made the coffee for.)

Me: “I’m so sorry, ma’am. I have no idea how this happened.”

Customer: “It was ice cold! Disgusting!”

Me: “I really am sorry. I don’t know what could have caused it.”

Customer: “It was ice cold. No Cuban would ever drink that.”

(I can almost feel my apologetic customer service smile fall into something like my neutral “resting b**** face,” though I try to be pleasant.)

Me: “She’s getting your coffee now, ma’am.”

(Luckily, my coworker has finished and is already turning to offer the customer the little Styrofoam cup.)

Coworker #2: “Here you go! Nice and hot!”

Customer: “I’ll be the judge of that!”

(She proceeds to pop open the lid and glare inside before just walking away, and I turn to my coworker in upset confusion.)

Me: “I honestly don’t know why that happened.”

Coworker #2: “Don’t worry about it. You didn’t do anything wrong. The cup was almost empty; it was just easier to give her another one than start a fight. I hope it gives her the s***s.”

(I agreed with her. I hope it was worth saving $1.45.)

Internal Intolerance

, , , , | Related | October 31, 2018

(My grandma was born before women were allowed to vote, and so could not pass on their citizenship to their children born outside the USA to foreign fathers. Despite not being a citizen, my grandma is super Republican-American in everything she does, and age has made her a little intolerant. Since my grandma got married in the USA, we are all citizens but her. One day we are passing through customs at MIA…)

Customs Employee: *takes one look at my grandma’s Costa Rican passport* “Buenos días, señora.”

Grandma: “Good morning.”

Customs Employee: *stops checking passport and looks up angrily* “Lady, I spoke to you in Spanish. Talk to me in Spanish.”

Grandma: *screaming and in a snarky tone* “WELL, I THOUGHT WE WERE IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA! WHERE WE SPEAK ENGLISH!”

(I am panicking in my head, thinking, “That’s it! We are getting detained! My grandma is going to get us kicked out! Is he going to make our life h***?! Am I going to have to bail my grandma out of jail? Are we both going to jail?” Instead, the Customs Employee, shocked, open-mouthed, and speechless, gives my grandma her passport, and she angrily walks away, leaving me behind.)

Me: *to employee still in shock* “Lo siento muchisisisimo.” *I am so so so sorry.*

The Birds And The Bees And The Bathroom Employees

, , , , , , , | Hopeless | September 21, 2018

I come from a very religious family. As such, I was never given any formal sex-ed talk.

I was 12 and I was at the mall by myself. I went into the washroom and found blood in my underwear. I completely panicked and ran into the closest store.

In this store, there was one female worker, but the rest of the store was empty. In tears, I begged her to call my family to come get me because clearly I was dying.

The woman calmed me down and gave me an adhesive pad. After explaining what it was and how to use it, she let me use the staff-only washroom in the back. She then gave me the whole sex talk my parents and my religious school had failed to tell me. She only told me because I was so freaked out and confused. I don’t think she knew I was religious; she just thought I was super innocent and my parents didn’t tell me s***.

I never told my parents what this employee said. My parents acted like my period was shameful and discouraged any discussion about it, besides saving sex for marriage, when I went home that night. Before I went to bed, my mom handed me a package of pads and a book about Virgin Mary. She didn’t explain how to use them, the difference between wings and no wings, etc., like the woman in the store had. I would’ve been so overwhelmed if it weren’t for that woman.

The following year, I was taught about how abstinence is the best birth control, but nothing like what that employee taught me. I had to be the one to teach my friends about their own bodies, and I am so grateful for what that employee did. I have friends who are in their early 20s just learning what I learned when I was 12.

This woman saved my teen years.

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