A Stamp Of Disapproval

| Peachtree City, GA, USA | Right | August 20, 2016

(I work for a very large pharmacy/convenience store that has a very specific return policy. If it’s an item of our brand, it can be returned no matter what: empty, destroyed, no receipt, anything. However, it’s returned and you’re given a ”money card,” which can be used on anything in-store except for prescriptions and cigarettes. A woman from the neighboring trailer park knows this and this occurs almost daily. Today is my last day working.)

Me: *currently restocking the candy in front of my till when I hear a loud cough and see the customer standing three spaces away waiting* “Ma’am, may I help you?”

Lady: “About fucking time. I have a return. I demand you help me now!”

Me: *I walk back to my till, grabbing her items on the way, and start the return by scanning her receipt, noting that she paid with food stamps for her purchase* “Okay, this shouldn’t be an issue. Do you have the food stamp card used? I just need to scan it to reimburse you.”

Lady: “It’s not a food stamp card, you assumptive piece of s***! It’s just for us folks who don’t have a rich daddy to pay for s***. And no, I don’t have it with me.”

(She proceeds to grab the receipt from me.)

Lady: “Just give me one of those d*** cards, okay? God, you take forever.”

(I cancel out the return and begin a return without receipt, which requires my manager to okay that I am activating the card.)

Me: “Okay, this should be just fine; just give me one moment to get my manager to activate the card.”

Lady: “Of course. Hurry up; I don’t have all day, Princess.”

(At this point, I’ve had to deal with her so many times that I am almost joyfully taking my time. I knock on my manager’s office and let him know who it is and what’s going on.)

Manager: “Ma’am, this will just take me a quick moment. Can I ask why you’re returning this?”

Lady: “It’s f****** disgusting. All your products are. Just give me my card finally.”

(My manager tells her how to use the card and gives it to her with a printed balance.)

Lady: “I’m just going to use it now, you f****** idiot. Princess, can you finally get off your fat a** and get me a carton of [Cigarette Brand] and two lighters?”

Manager: “Ma’am, I have already told you that you cannot buy cigarettes with this card.”

Lady: “I don’t care! Bad enough you can’t give me my money back. Let me get my f****** cigarettes.”

(At this point, I’m completely shocked. Usually, telling her gets her to go to a different store.)

Manager: *speaking to me* “Did her original receipt show food stamps again?”


Me: “Yes.”

(At this point, my manager asks for the card so he can “fix the issue” and hands it to me.)

Manager: “Can you please dispose of this for me? As for you ma’am, I demand you leave. This is the fifth time you’ve tried to get cigarettes with food stamps and I cannot take this.”

Lady: *completely irate* “No! I demand my god-d*** f****** cigarettes, you f****** c***!”

(Knowing this is my last day, I look at her completely stone faced and snap the card in half.)

Me: “You need to leave. Now.”

(She later came back that day with a police officer, claiming that we stole from her. My manager took the officer into the room, explained the situation, and showed him both the returned product and the snapped card. She was arrested for food stamp fraud.)

Manager: “You can go home early today. When you’re at college, do something not to end up here.”

1 Thumbs

I’m Suda-Fed Up

| MT, USA | Right | August 12, 2016

(A customer comes up to me with two packages of a popular over-the-counter drug brand; one is for treating cold symptoms and one is a sleep aid only.)

Customer: “I’m not sure which one to get.”

Me: *pointing to the orange box* “Well, this one treats symptoms of a minor cold, like stuffy nose and chest congestion, and this one—” *pointing to the blue box* “—is a sleep aid.”

Customer: “Which one should I get?”

Me: “Do you have a cold or do you need help falling asleep?”

Customer: “I don’t know. Can you put them behind your back and mix them up, then I’ll just pick a hand and go with it.”

Me: “It might just be better to choose the one that fits your symptoms.”

Customer: *pushing the boxes at me* “No, this will be fine. Just mix them up behind your back, and I’ll pick one.”

Me: “Um, okay.” *dutifully puts the boxes behind my back and switches hands*

(The customer picks the hand that was holding the sleep aid.)

Customer: “Great! This is perfect. THANKS!”

Me: “You’re welcome?”

Refuses To Shift The Blame

, | AL, USA | Working | August 8, 2016

(We recently get a new scheduling manager that is horrible about communicating with everyone and often changes the schedule at the drop of a hat. Leading up the Black Friday, I’ve been checking the upcoming schedule multiple times every day to insure I am off both Thanksgiving and Black Friday and I indeed am. I even call on Thanksgiving to insure that I am off on Black Friday and again it is confirmed. While out with my family I get a call from the scheduling manager.)

Me: “Hello?”

Scheduling Manager: “[My Name], where are you?”

Me: “With my family.”

Scheduling Manager: “You’re supposed to be here!”

Me: “No, I’m not. I checked all last week and everyday and even called yesterday to make sure, [Scheduling Manager]. My name was not down.”

Scheduling Manager: “Well, you need to come in.”

Me: “No.” *hangs up*

Scheduling Manager: *calls me a few more times which I ignore then texts me* “Please, you need to come in. I’m sorry for the confusion. I’ll have to work a 13-hour shift if you don’t.”

Me: *texts back* “I am not coming in. I was not on the schedule for today. Stop texting me.”

Scheduling Manager: *texts* “Please!”

Me: *texts* “No.” *turns off phone*

(I turned my phone back on after I got back home. I had numerous messages from her. I complained to the manager above her who said she would sort it out. The scheduling manager left two months later.)

Should Keep Their Hopes Low About Getting High

| UK | Right | August 1, 2016

(I’m working the Sunday shift on my own at the counter, when three young boys in their teens walk in.)

Me: “Good morning, how can I help you today?”

Customer #1: “We’re looking for some salvia.”

Me: “Excuse me… what? Could you repeat that?”

Customer #1: “Salvia.”

Me: *having never heard of this* “I… I’m not sure…”

Customer #2: “SALVIA, you dumb b****! SAL-VEEEE-AAAA!”

Me: “What is it used for?”

Customer #1: *sighs* “I thought you were meant to know all about this stuff? It’s a drug, to get you high, like weed or heroin and stuff.”

Me: “…”

Customer #2: “It’s legal. They haven’t banned it yet!”

Me: “We… we don’t sell recreational drugs here.”

Customer #3: “Well, then, where the h*** are we meant to get it?”

Me: “You could try your local dealer…”

(To this day I still don’t know what possessed them into thinking that a pharmacy would sell recreational drugs!)

Throw In Some Stress Pills While You’re At It

| USA | Working | July 17, 2016

(I go to a podiatrist because I have a fungal infection, and he wrote me a prescription for some pills and says that he will send it to the pharmacy. I go to the pharmacy for the medicine.)

Me: “Hello, I’m here to pick up this prescription?”

Clerk: “Okay.”

Me: “Here it is.”

(I hand what the doctor gave me over. It has the pharmacy name and address, and the doctor’s name and address. She frowns and squints at it, looks at the computer, and frowns again.)

Clerk: “This is your doctor?”

Me: “Yes, Dr. [Name].”

Clerk: “Okay…”

(She gives me a narrow-eyed suspicious look and leaves. I figure that she went to give it to the pharmacist to fill. I wait a minute, and then ask again.)

Me: “Hello, I’m trying to pick up my prescription?”

Same Clerk: “Name?”

Me: “Name.”

(She goes and gets it, but doesn’t hand it over.)

Same Clerk: “ID?”

Me: *gives it*

Same Clerk: “Address?”

Me: *gives it*

Same Clerk: *scowls suspiciously, frowning at computer*

(At this point, I’m getting annoyed. It’s been over 15 minutes.)

Me: “It’s me! That’s my prescription!”

Same Clerk: “Well… okaaay.”

(She hands it over, along with my ID, still unsure. Not all of us are drug abusers, lady.)

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