(I bag groceries at a local supermarket. I am taking a bathroom break when I notice a customer walk in, use the urinal, and head straight for the door.)
Me: “Uh, sir, please wash your hands.”
Customer: *looks at me like I’m a moron* “F*** you!”
Me: “Sir, we touch that door handle and then we touch people’s food.”
Customer: *apparently only knows two words* “F*** you!” *walks out the door without washing his hands*
(Sadly, this a common occurrence. We work with food, people; show some decency!)
(My cousins, my family, and some family friends are having a garage sale. My cousins, age eleven and thirteen, are selling some books for $1 each.)
Customer: *points to brand-new book that they’re selling* “How much is this book?”
Cousin #1: “That would be $1, please.”
Customer: *hands her 25¢*
([Cousin #1] glances at [Cousin #2].)
Cousin #2: “Uh… that’s going to be another 75¢.”
Customer: *grumbles about it being a ripoff and hands her 75¢*
(Long story short, don’t try to scam kids by being cheap and bargain with a book that costs a DOLLAR.)
This story is part of our Hagglers roundup.
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(It’s the first day of training for my new job at the Disney store. We’re doing “team-building exercises,” which are really just games involving Disney characters in one way or another. One of these games is to write down our favorite character and try to guess whose is whose as the manager reads them off.)
Manager: “Cinderella.”
(Two people are pointed at, and one is correct.)
Manager: “Lumiere.”
(Three people get pointed at, and once again, one is correct.)
Manager: “Maleficent.”
(EVERYONE points at me.)
Me: “We’ve only known each other for TEN MINUTES! And yeah, that was me.”
(This was several years before the Maleficent movie came out; I’m pretty sure it’s a more common answer nowadays.)
I’m 24 and have just bought a new car. My apartment building’s manager lives onsite. She mentions that a new resident is looking for a car and saw my old car with a “For Sale” sign in the window. Through her, I connect with the guy who might want to buy my car. Our negotiations are a little rocky, but I really want to sell my car, so I accept his offer, even though he needs to wait a week to get the money.
In the meantime, I have a trip planned, so I clean out my car, remove the license plates, and tell the building manager about it and leave the car key with her; I trust her. She offers to hold the check payment for me until I’m back.
When I get back from my trip, my mailbox and door are both full of warnings about my “unregistered car,” alerting me that it’ll be towed within a week if I don’t register it. I go see the manager immediately and ask what it’s all about. She tells me residents are not allowed to keep unregistered cars in our building’s parking lot. I tell her I took the plates off because the other guy was going to buy it and it should be his problem by now. I also ask her if she has my check. She says she has no idea what I’m talking about.
I go over and knock on the guy’s door, and he says he changed his mind. I go back to the manager to get my car keys, and she gives them to me and says I’d better get that car registered.
I immediately put the plates back on, and nothing more is ever said. Maybe it’s for the best that she didn’t act as the middleman for my car sale.
(It’s Saturday. My store has hundreds of people coming through. I can’t fold every piece of clothing, especially if there’s a line of customers at every register.)
Me: “How are you today? Did you find everything all right?”
Customer: “…”
(I ring up their items, sort of fold them, and place them in a bag.)
Customer: *scoffs* “That’s the one thing they don’t teach at [Store]: how to fold things.”
(She proceeded to fold each article of clothing while I stood there staring at her, receipt in hand. The next customer had already put their items on the counter.)
