The Couponator: Confusion Extreme

, , , , | Right | CREDIT: Comixbear1 | July 21, 2021

I was taking orders the other day and had a man and his wife come up to the register. The man reached in his pocket and pulled out a coupon, proudly displaying it to me. It was one of our coupons that basically provided two meals for $12.00. I rang up the meals and then looked at him with a smile as I told him the total: about $13.50.

The smile dropped from his face.

Customer: “Why are you charging me $13.50?”

I cringed inside and told him that the meals were $12.00 and that the tax brought it to $13.50. He looked at me in confusion.

Customer: “Why is it $13.50? The coupon says $12!”

Once again, I told him that this was, indeed, the price of the food, but we had to include the $1.50 sales tax. With a sour look on his face, the man reached into his wallet and pulled out $2 to cover the tax.

Customer: *Grouchily* “Here, I guess!”

It was then that it struck me: this man thought that the coupon covered the entire price of the meals so that he didn’t have to pay anything! I struggled through trying to tell him that it didn’t.

Customer: “Well, what good is the coupon, then?”

Me: “Well, without the coupon, the food would cost you almost twice as much!”

Finally, his long-suffering wife just looked like, “I’ve had enough of this AGAIN!” and directed him to hand me the full amount.

I don’t think he ever really understood that a coupon reduces a price, not removes it!

The Couponator 28: Panic Attack!
The Couponator 27: Red Friday
The Couponator 26: Father’s Day
The Couponator 25: The Cheese Explosion
The Returner Versus The Couponator II: This Time It’s Personal

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The Worst Possible Way To Spend Your Lunch Break

, , , | Romantic | CREDIT: redheadedsidhe | July 20, 2021

I have just been hired by a new online bank. A man calls in to sort out something on his bank account, and I fix it for him with no problem.

Man: “Can we do the same thing on my wife’s account?”

Me: “I’m sorry, but I can’t do that. That’s your wife’s personal account; you don’t have access.”

The man is upset by this and tries to argue me into breaking the law for him.

Man: “It’s my wife! We share money; what’s hers is mine! And besides, she’s right here next to me!”

Me: “Since your name is not on the account, you can’t make any changes to it or access any information about it. I’m very sorry for the inconvenience. Your wife can call in or use our online chat at any time, but she has to be the one to do it.”

The man is frustrated but eventually gives in.

I start to sign off, happy to get to lunch on time, when suddenly, I am interrupted.

Man: “Wait, how old are you?”

Me: “I don’t see how that’s relevant, sir. If there’s nothing else I can do for yo—”

Man: “You sound young, like a gorgeous young woman.”

Me: “Sir, this is a business line. I am at work.”

Man: “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

Me: “Sir—”

Man: “I can make it worth your while. I have plenty of money to spend on a pretty little thing like you!”

Please note that there is under £150 in his account at the moment, which just makes this funnier.

Man: “I love spoiling girls like you. I’ll give you my number.”

Me: “The bank already has your number; you are calling in from it.”

Man: “Here, take this down; my number is [phone number].”

Me: “I can see your number; it’s attached to the bank account. I won’t be calling you, sir. I am at work, and I can’t take any private customer information home.”

Man: “Nobody has to know. It can be our little secret.”

I don’t say it, but I am wondering about the wife who is “right beside him, agreeing to let him access the account” and what she thinks of all this.

Man: “Come on, you know you want me. Any girl like you wants to be spoiled by someone like me. Come on, baby girl.”

I eventually got him to hang up, but half my lunch break was taken up.

It’s also worth noting that a few months later, he emailed in with a legitimate concern, but the email had two attachments. One was ID, which we needed to make the change, and the other was a d**k picture.

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, , , , | Right | CREDIT: teenage_turntbag | July 20, 2021

I work the night audit shift as well as housekeeping at our hotel. This particular day starts like any other; I get my cleaning cart out and I’m in the middle of scanning my chart, looking to see which linen sizes I need.

Out of the corner of my eye, someone walks past me down to the dead-end of the hall. I usually greet the guests, but he is already well past me. I peek down the hall, wondering which room he’s even going to, and I have to do a double-take. This man is butt-a** naked.

He must’ve done a double-take, too, because when I look back, he is ducking behind the wall.

Guest: “I’m sorry! Can you help me? I don’t know which room I’m in.”

I’m kind of stunned. I’ve only worked here for a few months.

Me: “How do you not know where your room is?”

Guest: “I don’t know! I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I don’t know my room.”

He keeps repeating that like he’s going to cry, so now I’m feeling really bad. I use my walkie to ask the front desk if anyone with his name is on a reservation, and of course, it isn’t. Now I’m wondering if this man is homeless and trying to get in a room or if he has a mental problem or something.

Me: “Just sit tight for a minute.”

I hurried down to the front desk. I told them the situation, and they hurried up there. This guy was already gone, running through the hotel. He found another housekeeper, and she did the smart thing, gave him a towel, and walkied us. He went with the front desk workers to figure out where the h*** his room was.

Apparently, this guy was sleepwalking and had just woken up when I saw him! I know I had a panic, but I can only imagine his. Hopefully, he learned not to sleep naked in a hotel with sleepwalking tendencies!

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A Warped Sense Of Retail Ethics

, , , , | Right | CREDIT: HistoryGal47 | July 19, 2021

Back in the mid-1980s, I work at a chain record store that sells records, tapes, T-shirts, and other music-related items. One day, I am standing at the front register waiting for customers to check out, and in walks a very angry-looking man.

He tosses two 45 RPM records on the counter.

Customer: “I want to return these.”

I look down at the two 45s and notice that they are warped. And when I say, “warped,” I mean that they have more waves than Farrah Fawcett’s hair. These 45s put Shirley Temple to shame. It is summer, so it is pretty obvious that these records were left in the man’s car all day.

Me: “Sir, we can’t take these back; they’ve obviously been damaged by the sun.”

I kid you not, he looks me square in the eyes and says:

Customer: “I didn’t do a thing to them. They were this way when I bought them! Now I want a refund!”

Me: *Dumbfounded* “You actually bought them like that?”

He has the presence of mind to look embarrassed but recovers quickly and asks to speak to our manager. I call over to the assistant manager on duty and start to explain the issue. The customer interrupts.

Customer: “I want to return these, but your employee here won’t help me.”

The assistant manager is an imposing guy with a no-nonsense attitude. I fully expect him to kick this poor, delusional soul out of the store, but he surprises me.

Assistant Manager: “Okay.”

Honestly, to say I am surprised is an understatement; I am shocked! [Assistant Manager] comes around the counter to the register, processes the return, and throws the 45s in our return box.

Assistant Manager: “Will there be anything else, sir?”

Customer: *Smiling smugly* “I don’t know if I’ll be back here anymore if y’all hire people like her.”

Assistant Manager: “That will be fine, sir. We don’t want to deal with any more warped records, either.”

The man just huffs and walks out of the store.

Assistant Manager: *To me* “Better to return $2 worth of merchandise than to lose a good customer, but I think in this case we got the short end of the deal.”

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You Can’t Bulls*** The Third Shift

, , | Right | CREDIT: Archonet | July 19, 2021

Why is it people think they can lie to my face and I’m not gonna call them out on it? What possesses them to believe the third-shift guy, who deals with the craziest s*** of all at a seedy motel, is going to be an easy target to bulls***? I just don’t get it.

A woman comes in and says she has a reservation. I ask for her ID and credit card. She gives me her ID and then starts messing around on her phone. I wait about ten seconds.

Me: “Uh… ma’am? Your credit card?”

Guest: “Yeah, yeah, I’m pulling it up.”

Me: “Uh, ma’am, I can’t take a card that’s just a picture on your phone. I need it to be physically here.”

Guest: “No, you don’t. Other people here have taken it before! I’ve stayed here like twenty times in the past few months!”

No, she has not. I’m on the verge of giggling now because she’s so full of it.

Me: “No, they didn’t, and if they did, they’d be in trouble for not doing their jobs right.”

Guest: “Where’s the guy that’s usually here? I want to call him. What’s his number?”

Me: “Ma’am, I have no idea who you mean by ‘the guy,’ and even if I did, I can’t give out an employee’s personal number to a guest.”

The woman FINALLY managed to produce a credit card, flinging it across the desk at me. She was snippy and impatient for the entire rest of the check-in, and then she snatched her cards and her keys out of my hands when I handed them to her. I was saccharine sweet for the entire rest of the check-in just to really piss her off, finishing with, “Have a lovely night!”

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