I Don’t Work Here; YOU Work Here!

, , , , , | Working | CREDIT: OldManInShower | June 15, 2021

I am a promoter for a company with a wide range of products; I promote their product in another company’s store. I am usually near the front of the store, pitching whatever new products my company has to people as they pass by.

The number of times people have come up and asked me for help is STAGGERING. But most of the time I help, because I usually know more or less where everything in the store is, or I know where to find someone who does.

I am standing in front of the brushware and cleaning section, promoting a spin bucket mop, when a manager walks up to me with this confused-looking old man trailing behind.

Manager: “Where is the laminate floor cleaner?”

Me: “Sorry, I have no clue.”

I have only been here for a week, so I really have no clue.


I am really taken aback by this sudden tirade so I reply super quietly.

Me: “But I work for [Company], not [Store].”


She then looked back at the customer, SIGHED DRAMATICALLY, and walked into the aisle to check for herself. How the h*** could she be so rude to a customer like that? This poor old man followed her like an unloved toddler while she looked through all the cleaning products. Not finding what she was looking for, she told him she would find someone to assist him and then stormed off.

This poor old man was left looking around, all confused, checking back to his shopping list like it would tell him where to go.

Five minutes passed, and I realised that help was not coming from the manager, so he was well and truly abandoned. I went to the promoter for another company and asked him to help, since he had been working there for a month already and was friends with the employees. He called someone to come help, and within seconds, the old man was being led off to another section by an employee.

I later found out the manager works at a desk and has zero clue how the rest of the store works.

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Someone’s Being (Bed) Framed!

, , , , | Related | CREDIT: Scarlet-absol13 | June 15, 2021

My aunt tends to go through cars like you wouldn’t believe and has just ruined her thirtieth car. Yes, thirty cars. My grandmother, her mother, offers to give her my late grandfather’s car since my grandmother no longer needs two cars. But that isn’t good enough for my aunt. She has her eye on an over-priced seven-year-old SUV with a ridiculous amount of miles, and because of her financial situation, she needs someone to co-sign to get a loan for the car.

My grandmother, who lost her husband not even two years ago, has no interest in co-signing for a “new” car that will probably die before it is paid off. So, at Sunday dinner one week, my aunt asks my father, her younger brother, if he will co-sign for her car loan.

Father: “No way in heck. If I co-signed for a car for anyone it would be for my sixteen-year-old daughter, not you. Take Dad’s old car.”

This triggers a major fight between my father and his sister, which ends in my aunt screaming:

Aunt: “If you won’t co-sign for my car loan, I’ll call child protective services because [My Name] is sleeping on a mattress on the floor.”

My bed frame broke not even a week ago so I am sleeping on a box spring and mattress on the floor until we can get me a new bed frame. None of us think anything about the threat, since my aunt has a habit of making empty threats when she doesn’t get her way.

A few days later, I get called down to the guidance office in the middle of a chemistry test for an “urgent matter.” When I get to the office, I am led into a small room with the school’s social worker and another woman.

Woman: “Hello, [My Name]. I have a few questions about your living arrangements.”

She asks me questions like, “What’s your home life like?” “How do your parents treat you?” “Are you happy at home?” and, “Do you have your own room?” It isn’t until she asks one more question that I start to mentally piece things together.

Woman: “How do you sleep at night?”

Me: “What is this about?”

Woman: *Hesitating* “We received an anonymous tip that your father is forcing you to sleep on the floor. We want to know what that’s about.”

And that’s when everything clicks and I am livid.

Me: “I’m not being forced to sleep on the floor. My bed frame broke about a week ago, so I’m currently sleeping on a box-spring and mattress until my new bed gets delivered. I’ll bet you any amount of money my aunt was the person who made that anonymous tip because my father refused to co-sign for her to get a new car.”

The woman from CPS looks stunned.

Woman: *To the school social worker* “Do you have any way of reaching her father to confirm this?”

Unfortunately, I have no idea what is said during that conversation since I am sent out of the room during the call, but it’s safe to assume my father confirms what I said. Once they get off the phone with my father, the woman and the social worker come out.

Woman: “I’m very sorry about this, [My Name].”

Me: “I understand. You were just doing your job.”

And I went back to class.

When confronted about it, my aunt admitted to making the call to CPS and my grandmother was FURIOUS. She made sure my aunt didn’t end up getting the SUV she wanted and she was forced to take my late grandfather’s 1998 Chevy Cavalier. Unfortunately, my aunt didn’t get in any legal trouble for the false CPS report due to it being an anonymous tip, but my father gave her a harsh warning about what would happen to her if she pulled another stunt like that again.

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Thanks For Piling On The Stress

, , , | Right | CREDIT: PokeMom95 | June 15, 2021

When I was seventeen, I was working in a large chain grocery store as a cashier. I’m autistic and cry when I’m super stressed or frustrated. I can’t control it or hold it back; it just happens.

This one fateful day, it was nearing a holiday and the store was extremely busy. I’d been helping customers at our busiest register for a few hours. Most of the customers either helped me bag their items or insisted on bagging them all themselves. Some customers have a particular way they like their things bagged, and who am I to argue?

About halfway through my shift, along came a couple with two carts overflowing with groceries. I already knew this wasn’t going to be a quick transaction. And with no bagger available to help bag, that would mean I’d have to stop scanning to bag items. I started scanning their items and placing them in the bagging area. After one cart was empty and I had the majority scanned, the bagging area was piled high with groceries, and the man stood there watching me while his wife unloaded the other cart. He didn’t help bag and didn’t put any bags I did pack into his cart; he just watched me.

Because of how busy the store was, I was trapped in my register and could not put the bags into the cart myself.

Eventually, I didn’t have much room to put anything, so I had to stand on my toes to try and reach a spot to put things. At one point, I had to very lightly toss a loaf of bread onto the top of the pile. This apparently was the wrong choice.

Man: “Excuse me, but why are you throwing my groceries? I’m paying good money for this s***. I don’t need you breaking it all.”

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t realize I’d thrown it. I’ll be more careful. Again, I apologize.”

I started to try and be extra careful with his groceries while I scanned. The pile kept growing and growing, and he still did not bag anything. I placed another item on the pile and it caused a small landslide of groceries.


I hit the button for my manager and she appeared within minutes.

Manager: “What’s going on, [My Name]?”

Man: “This little b**** is throwing my items!”

I’m not sure what happened after this, as I started crying. My manager told me to go to the bathroom and clean myself up and come back when I felt better. I did just that and was gone for about a half-hour before I was able to calm down.

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No Toilet Paper But Plenty Of Bulls***

, , , | Right | CREDIT: the_Heeter | June 15, 2021

I work at a sort of small grocery store with just ten aisles and a produce section. We have no stock tonight thanks to our trucks all being delayed or rerouted. I’m mopping in our canned goods section. A woman comes up to me in a huff.

Customer: *Rudely* “Hey! I’ve been looking all over the store for toilet paper, and I can’t find any.”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but we are completely out of toilet paper. If you really need it, you can check at [Store #1] or [Store #2] to see if they have any.”

Customer: “I already went there; they didn’t have any. They said you did, so where is it on the shelves?”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but they must have told you wrong. We don’t have any and haven’t for a day or two.”

Customer: *Scoffs* “Impossible! Go and check the back. I’ll wait right here.”

So, I smile and plod to the back to be greeted with the empty room where our stock pallets normally are. I wait a couple of seconds and then turn around and go back to the customer.

Customer: “Well, where is it? I need [Brand] in twenty-four packs.”

Me: “Again, ma’am, I’m sorry, but we don’t have any toilet paper. I don’t know when we will get more in. Our trucks are being delayed, and furthermore, much of our product is on backorder.”

Customer: “Well, I still need [Brand], so…”

I stand there, smiling awkwardly, wanting her to just leave.

Customer: “You’re not going to go get it?”

Me: “I just said we don’t have any. I’m sorry, ma’am, but you’ll have to come back another time.”

Customer: “You can’t be serious! This is the only day I have to shop!”

Me: “Sorry, but we just don’t have any mo—”

Customer: *Cutting me off* “Stop giving me that excuse! Where is it?”

Me: “Fine. It’s a few sections over, middle shelf on the left. Good luck.”

Customer: “Finally, thank you! I’ll just get it myself.”

She then walked away as I went back to cleaning my section. For a moment, there was silence, then an exasperated gasp, and then quick footsteps approaching me. I braced myself, and as she rounded the corner, I strained to wear my best smile.

Customer: “I can’t believe you, telling me wrong! I’ll just take my business elsewhere!”

She then stormed out of the building, and I haven’t seen her since, thank goodness.

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Time To Implement An A**hole Tax

, , , | Right | CREDIT: LOL_Murica | June 14, 2021

I manage a restaurant. I’m in the dining room when I see a guest berating a server. As I approach, I can see the guest holding a menu and yelling about how “this is overpriced” and “I could buy this at the supermarket for half the price,” etc. The kicker is when she says to the server:

Guest:You should be ashamed for trying to gouge customers during [the health crisis]!”

I walk over, send the server away and, for the first, most exhilarating time in my life, order the guest to sit down and wait.

Me: “I’ll be right back.”

I went to the kitchen, grabbed my stack of invoices, and went back to the table. I’d love to say that I was able to go item for item with a dish and show how I arrived at the price but, sadly, the guest picked up her bag and left when I asked if she had a calculator. Her visibly embarrassed husband apologized, handed me ten bucks — they hadn’t even ordered yet — and followed her out the door.

Moral of the story: you servers might not be able to be a**holes, but there’s a room full of people in the back who would be happy to do it for you. Respect to you guys, who have the patience of mothers of twelve.

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