Somebody Needs A Nap(kin)

, , , , , | Working | July 28, 2021

It’s about four in the morning and I need a snack — insomniac here — so I drive down to the nearby gas station, pick up a drink, and go to their fresh donut stand to pick out donuts. I lift the tongs from the inside of the case and start picking. As I’m picking up the last donut…

Cashier: “You’re supposed to use the napkins.”

Me: “Uh, sorry? What napkins?”

The cashier gestures to the napkins… on top of the donut case, out of visible sight.

Cashier: “Use ’em.”

Since I’m done picking my donuts, I go to the counter. She rings me up.

Cashier: “How many you got?”

Me: “Three regular, one apple fritter—”

Cashier: *Interrupting me* “So four, then?”

Me: “Yeah, sorry, I thought the type mattered.”

She tuts at me. My card goes through.

Me: “Have a good one.”

The cashier just grumbled something about sanitizing the tongs.

I understand we are in a health crisis, but if you want people to use the napkins, put them in plain sight and take the tongs from the display entirely. Also, if it matters so much, maybe wear a mask, and maybe don’t be a b**** to your semi-regulars at four am?

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Has Some Serious Bag Baggage, Part 9

, , , , , | Right | July 24, 2021

I work as a cashier in an organic-focused grocery store. Because of the health crisis, my store has large plexiglass barriers separating cashiers from customers. Masks are required. Many customers bring in their own bags rather than using our paper bags, but we are no longer able to touch them or bag them. Customers have to do it themselves.

I’m autistic. It’s not severe and I’m fairly good at masking when needed, but I’m awful at reading people and situations, and I’m even worse at figuring out what to do if someone doesn’t tell me very specifically what they want.

An old woman with one of those personal carts comes through my line. She has her personal cart folded in one of our store carts. She’s a semi-regular and always has that cart with her, even though she can hardly lift it out of the store cart.

She struggles to get it out, so much so that the customer behind her rushes in to help her while I’m scanning the old woman’s items. She has her own bags and knows she has to bag herself, but she doesn’t. She just lets them pile up.

Me: “Do you have a store card?”

Customer: “No.”

She stands by the card reader and waits until I’m done. When she’s done paying, she finally goes over to bag her items.

She only has a few bags, so she tells me to use paper bags for everything else while she packs her large insulated bag as heavy as she possibly can. The bags I pack are much less heavy. Suddenly, when trying to load them into her now unfolded personal cart, she looks like she’s about to drop over with the insulated bag in her arms. She struggles with that bag and then puts it down. She then reaches for one I packed and acts like it’s even heavier. Suddenly, she starts yelling.

Customer: “I’m ninety-three years old!

Me: “Okay, so… do you want to empty that bag out a bit?”

She doesn’t answer, and she eventually manages to shove it in her cart. By this point, I don’t really know what to do. She acts like all the bags are insanely heavy, so I start pulling stuff out to lighten the paper bags. She’s not answering any of my suggestions.

I lighten some of the bags to try and make it easier on her. All the while, she’s grumbling about how stupid I am.

Customer: *Scoffs* “Stupid girl. I’m ninety-three!”

Then, despite all her whining about how heavy the bags were, she starts emptying the bags I lightened and puts heavy items in the heavy bags she already shoved into her cart. She crumples the paper bags, or rips them, and tosses them onto my register.

Customer: “Hey, you didn’t ask me if I had a store card! I didn’t get my discounts!”

Me: “I did ask you. You said no.”

Customer: “And you made the bags too heavy! I’m an elderly woman!”

Me: “I didn’t pack your cold bag. I even lightened the bags I packed when I saw you struggling. Do you want any help out to your car?”

Customer: “No! I’m waiting on a taxi!”

Finally, she grumbled and walked away. I had just started covering a coworker’s thirty-minute break when the woman came through my line, and by the time my coworker came back, I had only gotten through four people total.

Has Some Serious Bag Baggage, Part 8
Has Some Serious Bag Baggage, Part 7
Has Some Serious Bag Baggage, Part 6
Has Some Serious Bag Baggage, Part 5
Has Some Serious Bag Baggage, Part 4

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Can’t Chow Down On His Reasoning

, , , , | Right | July 22, 2021

I’m working reception at a vet’s office when I see one of our more unpleasant clients come into the lobby. He has a habit of bringing his dog in off-leash, often causing issues with our other patients. On this occasion, he does not have his dog but is carrying a metal pet food bowl. He comes up to my window and firmly places the bowl in front of me.

Me: “How can I help you today?”

Client: “Is this food okay?”

Me: “I’m sorry? I’m not quite sure what you mean.”

Client: “My dog won’t eat it.”

Me: “Oh, I see. Have you recently changed brands? Pets are creatures of habit, so they can sometimes be put off by a change in their food.”

Client: “No, it’s the same food I always feed him.”

Me: “Okay. Has he been unwell at all, or recently injured? Sometimes pain or illness can put them off their food.”

Client: “No, he’s fine. He just won’t eat this.”

Me: “I see. I’m afraid I don’t know why he won’t eat it. If you’d like, I could set you up with an appointment—”

Client: *Interrupting* “I just want to know if this food is okay. I mean, does it taste bad?”

Me: *Taken aback* “I… don’t know, sir. Have you tasted it?”

Client: “What? H***, no! I don’t eat dog food!”

Me: “Neither do I, sir, so I can’t offer an opinion.”

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When Sweet Tea Can Turn Sour

, , , , | Right | July 5, 2021

My husband is a stickler for making sure that items that are sealed at a grocery store are sealed when being purchased. I am out shopping one day without him present and pick up four gallons of a popular brand of sweet tea. As I am loading the groceries onto the belt to be scanned, I noticed that one of the twist-off lids is loose.

I reach for it and unscrew the lid the rest of the way and examine the seal. Everything looks to be fine, but in my state of having just gotten off a ten-hour day at work, I decide to test the seal. I turn the gallon of tea upside down and squeeze it over the conveyor belt. Luckily, the seal is solid and nothing happens. I put the lid back on tight and proceed to approach the debit card reader.

The cashier is looking at me in horror, mid-scan, and it clicks what I just did.

Me: “I am so sorry! I don’t even know what I was thinking there.”

Cashier: *Silent for a moment* “It’s okay.” 

Me: “I swear I am not that customer! It was just a really long day today! I am so sorry.”

Cashier: “I was just wondering what you would have done if it spilled.”

I apologized again before I left. I am so thankful that nothing happened!

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Thirty Makes It A Party!

, , , | Right | June 29, 2021

For the first time since last March, I am going to an indoor restaurant with my family. There’s a wait, and I’ve been put in charge of the buzzer that lets us know when they’re ready to seat us. After about forty minutes, the buzzer goes off, and I hand it to the hostess at the front.

Hostess: “Go right on in. If the girl seating you asks for your buzzer number, you’re number thirty.”

We go in and are greeted by a smiling waitress. I am somewhat hard of hearing in loud locations, and this place is as packed as it can get with social distancing still enforced. She asks me a short question I can’t quite make out; I only hear the sound “-ty”, so I assume she’s confirming our buzzer number.

Me: “Thirty.”

The waitress’s eyes widen, and it takes me a moment to realize she hadn’t said THIR-ty, but PAR-ty.

Me: “Oh, my God, I’m so sorry. Five. Party of five.”

I’m sorry, dear waitress, you did not just get a party of thirty dropped on you, just a dolt who’s forgotten how restaurants work after a year.

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