Needs To Check Him-Selfie

, , , , , , | Right | October 5, 2018

(It’s a busy but fairly normal shift. After a mad rush of customers it quietens down, and a man in his twenties comes to my till with a “selfie phone case.”)

Me: “That’s £12.99 for that, please.”

(He places two £1 coins and a few 20p coins on the counter. I count them out and look at him expectantly. After a few moments I realise he isn’t going to get out an extra £10.)

Me: “Sorry, it’s £12.99.”

(He still looks gone-out, and then seems to realise he hasn’t got enough.)

Customer: “What am I supposed to do, then?”

Me: “Do you have any extra cash or a debit card?”

(The man ignores me and turns instead to a customer just passing.)

Customer: “Have you got 10p?”

Passing Customer: “What?”

Customer: “I need 10p!”

Passing Customer: “Sorry.”

(The customer leaves, looking baffled.)

Me: “It’s ten pounds, sir.”

(An elderly lady has just joined the queue. He turns to her, instead.)

Customer: “Got £10?”

Elderly Lady: “Pardon?”

Customer: “Can I have £10?”

(Understandably, the lady is looking a little intimidated and confused.)

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, you can’t ask other customers to give you the cash. I can save the item for you behind the till until you do have the money, if you prefer.”

Customer: “Okay. I’ll sort something out.”

(He went, and I apologised to the elderly lady. The man returned about fifteen minutes later, but went to a colleague, and this time he bought a pack of chocolate. I still don’t know why he expected other customers to give him the money, and I don’t know why he thought £3 was enough to pay for something worth £12.99 in the first place. It was clearly labelled on the product and the shelf!)

I Got 99 Problems And A Hundred Is One

, , , , , | Working | October 5, 2018

(I work at a gas station. After several customers complain that we don’t break large bills, my manager — against corporate advice — decides to do so, anyway. What follows is a summary of the week after.)

First Customer Of The Day: “Can you break a hundred?”

Me: “No.”

Manager: “Yes, we can. I’ll go get the money.”

(The manager walks into her office in back. To her surprise, the customer has followed her. After breaking the hundred, the “customer” walks out without buying anything. The manager returns to the front.)

Second Customer: “Can you break a hundred for me?”

Me: “No.”

Manager: “You have to buy something first.”

(The second customer looks around and decides on a ten-cent gumball, handing me a hundred. I look at the manager, who nods. Shaking my head, I empty my register to give the second customer the money, including several rolls of coins.)

Second Customer: “Man, why are you giving me this? I wanted bills!” *storms out*

Manager: “Let me get you some more money.”

(She goes back to her office and returns with money, only to see three more customers with hundreds out. This repeats every day for three days before my manager changes tactics.)

Manager: “Listen, I’ll just go in back. When you need to break a big bill, use the intercom.”

Me: “This is ridiculous. We’re making maybe ten bucks more a day for this, and you’re easily taking in several thousand in hundreds for it. Word’s already gotten out, and we’re going to be robbed if we keep this up.”

Manager: “You’re right. We should have a codename for when you need to do it.”

Me: “Why?”

Manager: “So I don’t get robbed when I come up with the money.”

(I glare, but she doesn’t notice. For two more days, I have to say a ridiculous codename over the intercom every five to ten minutes. Everyone knows why she’s coming up, defeating the purpose of the codename, but she gets upset when I simply tell her I need to break a large bill. Day five begins:)

Manager: “I’m wasting too much time coming up front. I’ll add a spot for the bank [a deposit/change dispenser behind the counter] that dispenses five twenties.”

Me: “That’s ridiculous. That means night shift will have this problem, too!”

Manager: “Great, we’ll make even more money!”

Me: “We’ve made almost nothing. We don’t even have a spot for a new roll of bills to drop.”

Manager: “Oh, I’ll replace pennies. Nobody’ll even notice!”

(At the end of day five, we’ve made no appreciable extra money, and my till is now off because I ran out of pennies and had to give out nickels for anything four cents or less. My manager writes me up for being short due to this. I refuse to sign the write-up. Per policy, this means a regional manager needs to be called to settle the dispute. I’m out the door for two days, anyway, and need the time to calm down after all this. I return two days later to find the regional manager waiting for me at the door. She pulls me aside, and ominously holds a clipboard.)

Regional Manager: “[Manager] called to let me know you’d been insubordinate every day for the last week, culminating in a suspicious register deficit on your final shift of the week. Is that right?”

Me: “Yes, she screwed with the bank so we had $20s instead of pennies, and insisted on breaking all bills, no matter how large.”

Regional Manager: “That’s what [Night Shift Worker] said last night in his police report. We had an armed robbery. Fortunately, [Night Shift Worker] is unharmed.” *hands me the clipboard* “I need you to sign that you confirm [Night Shift Worker]’s story about the lead-up to the robbery.”

(The regional manager had already contacted corporate after the robbery, but my manager’s write-up and the night worker’s story had convinced her the manager’s unsafe business practices were partly to blame. The regional manager closed the store for the day — to the bemoaning of customers — and a new manager awaited us the following morning.)

One Hour Photo Is Still One Hour

, , , | Right | October 4, 2018

(My phone beeps as I receive a client’s message.)

Client: “I JUST WANT ONE PHOTO. HOW MUCH?”

Me: “$50 for an hour’s sitting.”

Client: “FOR ONE PHOTO?!”

Me: “Well, no, I take multiple photos to ensure I get the best photos I can. Then I go home, process them, and give the photos to you.”

Client: “THAT’S TOO MUCH! I JUST WANT ONE PHOTO. HOW MUCH?”

Me: *sigh* “I can do $25?”

Client: “I JUST WANT ONE PHOTO!”

Me: *smacks head on desk*

Actually Believes That “It Must Be Free”

, , , , , | Right | October 1, 2018

(I work in a department store’s shoe department. We have a display pair of shoes out on the sales floors for customers to see and we have the boxes for the shoes stored in our stockroom. On this day we have received a shipment of a couple dozen new styles of boots for the fall that I, since I am the only one scheduled on this busy day in the department, have not made displays for yet.)

Me: *notices a woman looking at some of the boots with an unhappy expression and goes up to her* “Hello, ma’am. Are you finding everything you are looking for today, or do you need any help?”

Customer: “Yes. I am looking for a tall, black leather boot that is on the plain side and I’d prefer it to be more dressy. I will be wearing it with leggings so I want it to be more form-fitted to my legs, but I can’t seem to find one like that here or anywhere!”

Me: “Actually, ma’am, we did get a shipment of new styles in this morning. Due to us being on the busy side I haven’t had a chance to put them on display yet, but I think they would be exactly what you are looking for. Would you like me to bring them out for you?”

(She nods and tells me the size. I go, pull them from the stock room, and show them to her.)

Customer: “Oh, my God! Those look like exactly what I want!”

(The rest of the interaction goes on with her trying on the shoes and talking about how perfect they would be with all her outfits. It goes very smoothly up until I go to check her out.)

Me: “So these boots are currently on sale for $79.99. I know the price is up there but [Coupon A] would take off 20%, [Coupon B] would take off 30%, and [Coupon C], if you add your $20 top you have in your cart, will take $50 off your entire purchase.”

Customer: *suddenly very agitated* “These boots shouldn’t be coming up for 80 bucks! They should be free!”

Me: *confused* “What do you mean they should be free?”

Customer: *rolling her eyes, with a mocking tone* “They don’t have a display with the price or tickets on them! They are not marked any price. That means they should be free!”

Me: “No, they do not have the price or ticket marking the price. But the ticket does not determine the price of the boots. Our system does, using the barcode on the box.” *points to the barcode with UPC on box* “That is why they are coming up about $80.”

(The customer snatches the box of boots and holds them to her body, gives me a death glare, and starts shouting.)

Customer: “I don’t care what your machine says! They should be free because they aren’t marked the price! Either you give them to me for free or I’m leaving!”

Me: *snatching the box back* “Well, I hope you have a great rest of the day, then!”

(I turned to return the boots to my stockroom. The woman just stood there in stunned silence with her mouth open. After a second she huffed and stomped away, never to be seen in shoes again.)

Euro No No

, , , , , | Right | October 1, 2018

(I am on vacation in Santorini, Greece with a few friends, exploring the town. There is a vendor selling noise-makers and other cute children’s toys on a mat in the square outside a church. An American woman is with her small child, who is playing with the toys, and the following exchange occurs.)

Customer: “I guess we’ll take one of these bouncy balls. How much?”

Vendor: “Three.”

Customer: *hands the man an American $10 bill* “Here you go.”

Vendor: “I can’t take this.”

Customer: “Why not? You said it was three dollars.”

Vendor: “No, euros.”

Customer: “What?! Why didn’t you say so? I don’t have any euros. Just take this. You can even keep the change.”

Vendor: “This is not America; I don’t take American money.”

Customer: “Okay, here’s a card.”

Vendor: “No, euros only.”

(This goes on for a bit, the woman getting angrier. The vendor eventually shakes his head in a final “no,” and she storms off towards us.)

Customer: “Could you believe him?! I can’t believe he wouldn’t take my money.”

Me: “Well, we are… you know… in Greece…”


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