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I’m Not Serving Myself Up On A Tray For You

, , , | Right | November 14, 2019

(I’m seventeen, working my first job as a cashier at a fast food joint. We have a soda fountain located behind the counter, but customers are allowed free refills within reason. The cashiers are required to clean off the trays. A customer in his 30s and his friend have been in the restaurant for nearly an hour, ordered one soda, and have been getting constant refills, but no one else is here and it’s hot as balls, so I’m letting it slide. They are loud and rowdy, but again, no one else is here, so whatever. I am wiping down a stack of trays at the counter.)

Customer: *ambling over* “Hey, so, what do you do here all day?”

(I get the feeling I’m being hit on by this older man.)

Me: “I serve the customers and clean up, sir.”

(I smile and indicate the trays. He continues chatting and leaning into my space as I work, but I’m young and shy, so I say nothing and give noncommittal hums to his questions. I finally finish drying off my 40+ trays and smile politely.)

Me: “Sorry, I have other chores to get to. Just call if you need a refill and someone will be out to help you, okay?”

(In response, the guy pretends to stretch and carefully shoves my stack of trays, and all of them clatter to the dirty floor. He leans back over the counter and smiles smugly as I step back in shock. His friend howls in laughter.)

Customer: “Can I get a refill?”

Me: *discovering that I’m not THAT shy* “You don’t deserve one! Get out of my store!”

(They call me a b**** and leave. My supervisor — an angry, sixty-year-old feminist with butch tendencies — hears the noise, comes to investigate, and after hearing the story, pats me on the shoulder.)

Supervisor: “Next time an a**hole tries that s*** with you, just shout for me or something. See him try it on me.”

(I did indeed call on her once or twice, and surprisingly, the same men were much less likely to hang around the counter after she took over my position.)

“Don’t Be Offended” Means You’re Going To Be Offended

, , , , | Right | November 1, 2019

(I’ve put through a customer, and we have a pleasant, regular chat, when suddenly, out of the blue, this happens. It should be noted that I am female, while the customer is an older man.)

Customer: “Can I tell you something, but you have to promise not to be offended?”

(Despite the WARNING BELLS this sets off, there’s nothing to do but smile and nod.)

Customer: “You shouldn’t be offended if someone calls you a b****, because it means ‘Babe In Total Control of Herself’!”

(The customer proceeds to grin like he’s just told me the funniest thing ever. I, predictably, am less than entertained.)

Me: “Have a great day, sir.” 

Customer: “It’s good, right?!”

Me: “Enjoy your day!”

(Still beaming, the man walked out. I get trying to make someone laugh, but if you have to preface it with “Don’t be offended!” then MAYBE YOU SHOULD RECONSIDER.)

When Comic Book Stores Need Wakanda Shielding

, , , , | Right | September 24, 2019

(I am working in my closed comic book store, unpacking after a big convention.)

Door: “BANG! BANG! BANG!”

(I see a customer pounding at the locked door of the store.)

Phone: “Ring Ring Ring!”

(I ignore the phone while I unpack, but the banging and shouting continue. I go to the door and unlock it.)

Me: “Yes?”

Customer: “Are you open?”

Me: “No. We’re closed today. Sorry.”

Customer: “That’s okay; I can still buy stuff, right?”

Me: “No, we’re closed.”

Customer: “But you’re here, and the door is unlocked, so you must be open.”

Me: “I unlocked it so you wouldn’t break my windows. We’re closed.”

Customer: “Oh… Can I come in?”

Me: “No, we’re closed. Sorry.”

Customer: “Yeah, but you’re here, and I just want—”

Me: “I’m here unpacking a convention, the store is not safe for customers to come in, and we are closed. We are open tomorrow from ten to nine. Thanks.” *closes and locks the door*

Customer: *as he walks away* “What an a**hole!”

Never Get Between Me And My Pizza

, , , , , | Working | September 4, 2019

(I am eighteen. My family moved to Ottawa when I was ten, and our home only has one pizza place close enough to walk to. This means we have been ordering from this place two or three times a week for about eight years, and the whole time we have always ordered the exact same thing. It is a small, family-run business. It has gotten to the point where they start to recognise our voices on the phone and we both stay up to date on each other’s families. I always go pick the food up. Often it was the same two people working at the cash register, but this time, it is someone new. I recognise him from the walk-in kitchen, but have never talked to him.)

Me: “Hey, I’m here to pick up our regular.”

Cashier: “What was your order?”

Me: “One extra-large, three-topping walk-in special with bacon, sausage, and pepperoni. Two Pepsi, and a small poutine.”

Cashier: “What is your address?”

(I’m confused. I have never been asked my address before, and I do not know it because I have never been asked before.)

Me: “Um, I don’t know my address.”

Cashier: “Well, you will need to get an adult to confirm your order.”

Me: “I am a regular here; I always get the same order. But I don’t know my address, nor do I have a phone. Can I just get my order?”

Cashier: “We can just call home. What’s your phone number?”

Me: “I don’t know my phone number. Please, can you just give me my order?”

(We are both becoming frustrated as neither of us will budge.)

Cashier: “You need an adult to confirm your order, or I can’t give you your order. Go home and confirm your order.”

Me: “Sir, I just want my pizza.”

Cashier: “Leave.”

(He points towards the door, and by this point, he is yelling at me. I am shocked; I have never had a bad experience here before.)

Me: “Excuse me?”

Cashier: “I said leave. Get out of here! Your business is not welcome here.”

Me: “Do you know who I am?”

Cashier: “I don’t care who you are. Get out of here right now!”

(Now I am also angry, but I know he has no right to kick me out. Due to me having authority problems, I refuse to leave.)

Me: “I would like to talk to your manager.”

Cashier: *about to speak, but I cut him off*

Me: “I would like to speak to your manager and/or the owner of this place.”

(The cashier heads to the back, and brings the owner. I instantly recognise him, and he recognises me. Due to it being a family-run business, he has been the cashier before for me.)

Boss: “Is there a problem? What’s going on here?”

Me: “Your employee here is trying to kick me out of here because of a misunderstanding. He would rather deny the business of a regular than do his job and give me my pizza.”

(The boss took the cashier to the back, and a few minutes later, he returned and served as my cashier. After the boss got me my pizza, I went home, not tipping, despite the fact I very often do. Next week, when I was back again, I saw one of my normal cashiers. I asked him what had happened to the other guy, and he said that he was on leave. I didn’t see that cashier again until about six months later, and he was back to working in the kitchen. I have never seen that man working as the cashier despite it being about a year since the incident. That was the only time I ever had to use the “I wish to speak to your manager” line.)

Off The Clock And Off The Record

, , , , , | Right | July 29, 2019

(I work as a cashier supervisor in a large store. I have just finished the day shift, and one of the evening cashiers calls me over as I am about to leave the store.)

Cashier: “Can you enter your password to authorize this markdown? I know you’re not supposed to when you’re off the clock, but [Evening Supervisor] is busy.”

Me: “Sure, it’s not a big markdown, so I’ll do it this time.”

Customer: *to me* “Jesus, hurry the h*** up, would you?”

Me: “You know, we don’t get paid enough to put up with your bulls*** when we’re on the clock, so I’d suggest you speak a little more nicely to me when I’m not.”

(The customer quieted down very quickly and has been very silent around me ever since.)