Pawn Shop Prices Are A Steal But The Stock Isn’t

, , , , | Legal Right | December 4, 2018

(Our particular location is in one of the poorest cities in the US, so we act as more of a pawn shop. Our store takes trades on iPads, iPhones, etc. On a pretty slow day, a young couple comes in:)

Male Customer: “Hey, I wanted to trade some of my stuff for cash. Y’all do that here?”

Me: *motioning toward the cases of used iPhones, iPads, and iPods behind me* “Yes, sir. What do you have for me today?”

Female Customer: “He got a bunch of phones.”

(The man puts a garbage bag on the counter and dumps it out, revealing what has to be about 25-30 phones. Some of them are flip-phones, a few are Apple products, and others seem to be low-end smartphones. We can only take Apple products, so I make two piles; one with iPhones, and the other phones in a separate pile.)

Me: *pointing to the six iPhones in a pile* “I can only trade these phones today, because we can only take Apple products, but check back with us in a month or so and we might be able to trade the others then. Also, I can only trade one phone per transaction. Were you trading these for store credit or for cash today? You’ll always get more store credit than cash.”

Male Customer: “Um…”

Female Customer: “He don’t play video games no more! And you mean you gotta ring each one, one-at-a-time?!”

Me: “Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry, but it’s store policy. I have to make a copy of the driver’s license or state ID of the person trading it each time for our records. So each phone has its own transaction.”

Male Customer: “You gotta have an ID to trade this s***?! That’s f****** stupid, man!”

Me: “Well, that’s actually state law, sir. Whenever you trade an item that can be insured, you have to show identification in case the property is reported stolen or missing. Phones can be insured. And our store policy states that if we trade anything for cash, an ID copy is required. Do you not have an ID?”

Male Customer: *to his girlfriend* “Babe, just use your ID. You know I can’t use mine.”

Female Customer: “H***, naw! I ain’t puttin’ my info in his system for your stolen-a** phones!”

Me: “Excuse me, did you just say these were stolen phones?”

(They both look at each other and back at me. In unison, they both say, “No, no, no. We bought them from my brother in New York, and they were stolen at one time, but the cases were dismissed.)

Me: “I can’t take these, then.”

Male Customer: “C’mon, man, don’t be a b****. Just ring ’em up; why’s it matter what they are?”

Me: “Because if they’re stolen then I’ve given you money for something that will be seized by the police when they come in this week to pick up our ID copies and serial numbers of the phones we traded. So [Store] would have paid…” *I look down at the phones and guess their total value* “…[total], for absolutely zero inventory. That’s why.”

Female Customer: “I told you, fool!”

Male Customer: *putting all of the phones back in his garbage bag* “Man, f*** this place! This is some bull-s***!”

(They then stormed out of the store and got in their car, of which I could see the license plate from the front windows. I wrote down the plate number and called the police, because I know how much it can suck to have your phone stolen. They were arrested at another location of the same company I worked for that same day, trying to trade in the same phones.)

Unfiltered Story #119685

, , | Unfiltered | September 8, 2018

I have recently started a weekend job, working in a supermarket, performing whatever useful jobs I am tasked with, while I complete my A-levels at grammar school.

One day this couple approach me while I’m restocking some shelves. Both of them are fat. He has a beard, and is wearing open toed sandals, an ill-fitting T-shirt and tatty “cargo pants”. She’s curled her hair and dyed it purple, and is dressed just as scruffily as he is. They have a trolley loaded with unhealthy, pre-cooked meals which you just shove into the oven, and eat in front of the television, no doubt.

Man: “Excuse me, can you tell me where the plawn clackers are?”

Me: “I beg your pardon?”

Man: “Plawn clackers. To go with our flied lice.”

Woman: “He means prawn crackers! He’s being silly.”

Me: “Yes I know what he meant. We have a zero tolerance policy towards racism, and I’m afraid I can’t help you. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Man: “Seriously? Oh come on …”

Me: “Seriously. Please leave. We don’t cater for people like you. Leave now, before I call security.

The couple looked at each other, then he shrugged, and they both walked off, hand in hand, leaving their trolley behind.

Unfortunately, when I told my manager what had happened, he was in a very grumpy mood, and did not seem to be all that pleased. I was then tasked with the job of putting everything back on the shelves.

The Only Boob In Here Is You

, , , , , , , | Friendly | August 29, 2018

A group of us got together to form a nudist club, and we would rent out the hot-tub suite of the local leisure centre for an hour or two on weekly basis. People who were using the suite before the hour we rented were naturally expected to leave before our rented hour.

This, of course, did not always happen. The worst instance of liberty-taking was when a middle-aged man from a culture where nudism is a shocking concept deliberately spent a long time showering, changing, and preparing to exit the suite, to such an extent that it was a good ten minutes into our rented time.

I, along with the other coordinator of this weekly event, approached this man a few times, explaining to him that he was encroaching into our time, and the members of the club wanted him either to leave immediately, or to pay his subscription and disrobe. Of course, he had no intention of doing so; he just wanted to hang around on the off chance that he could see naked women.

In the end, the aforementioned coordinator and I just undressed, and approached him again, naked this time. Nobody else had done so; it was just we two men. This time, the embarrassment of being made to interact with two naked men, and the increasingly remote prospect of cheap thrills on offer at the sight of bare breasts and women’s lady parts, was too much for him, and the slimy old toad left.

Unfiltered Story #115211

, , | Unfiltered | June 24, 2018

I work on the checkouts and have an elderly customer who wishes to pay for an item she has ordered. she hands me the paperwork for her ordered goods plus a discount card  that’s for the over 60s to receive 10% of purchases. I begin to explain that the discount needed to be taken of the order when it was being made and im sorry that I cannot change the price at the checkouts I continue to explain what she can do. the customer interrupting me flies of the handle and per seeds to have a go at me and tell me that I am stupid I have ruined her day and that her life is to short to listen to me. once again I apologise and continue to explain whilst being interrupted by her making horrible noises of disgust at me. at this point I can feel myself going red as no matter what I say she just continues to have a go at me and now a queue is forming behind her. once again she started to tell me that life is to short. I quickly interrupt her as she has me many a time and tell her that my life is to short to stand her and be moaned at by her an I now refuse to serve her. the best bit was that her husband who was stood there the whole entire time gave me a quick wink just before he followed his wife after she had stormed of

Cancel Anything That Comes Out Of Their Mouth

, , , , , | Right | May 28, 2018

(I work as an apprentice in IT for an engineering design company. I’m not familiar with the whole building yet, so I ask this guy to meet me so I can go with him to his desk and try and resolve his issue. This is what happens when we get back to his desk.)

Me: “So, if you could just log in for me and show me the problem, that would be great.”

User: “Okay, although I don’t know why they sent the apprentice down; this is far too complex for you to understand.” *types in password, hovers the mouse over the cancel button, and clearly reads the word before clicking it* “Oh. I must have gotten my password wrong.”

(He then proceeds to do this two more times before I intervene.)

Me: “Maybe just try hitting the enter button this time.”

User: *does as I instruct and his machine starts to log in* “Apprentices just aren’t qualified enough to work in these kinds of places.”

Me: *rolls eyes* “Yeah. We’re just not smart enough.”

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