Unfiltered Story #223629

, | Unfiltered | January 20, 2021

(I work in an appliance store which acts as a showroom for all of the manufacturers. Our sales and prices are determined by each manufacturer and all end at different times based on both brand and category… A customer calls in who is going to visit her salesperson anyway who has all of the information, where I have limited access and knowledge being in the customer service department)
Caller: So when are your sales over?
Me: It really depends on what you’re looking at, some end today where others are still on for another 2-3 weeks or more
Caller: It’s the dishwasher. (* We offer over 200+ models)
Me: Again, depends on brand and model, we have many different sales on at once. I would need to know which one you wanted to be able to check
Caller: It’s the *brand* on sale right now (* Narrows it down to about 30 models but still all different and not all are on sale)
Me: … Again, they’re all different, I’m not familiar with the individual sales without knowing the model, but your salesper-
(Caller rushes out number before I’m even in the right screen. I manage to get it looked up in time)
Me: alright, that model’s sale ends today.
(I can’t read minds! Talk to your regular salesperson for details on your file)

Unfiltered Story #223226

, , | Unfiltered | January 20, 2021

Most of the people in my family hunt, which is fairly common for the area. My cousin goes with her husband in early doe season and shoots a deer.

In the process of skinning or dressing the deer, the husband manages to cut himself. They don’t have all of the necessary supplies to get everything bandaged and cleaned, so the cousin goes to a nearby store.

At the store, she bought bandages, plastic bags, and several other supplies that probably looked like they’d been recommended in a guide on getting away with murder.

She supposedly looked the cashier dead in the eye and said, “I swear, it’s not what you think.”

Unfiltered Story #223191

, , | Unfiltered | January 20, 2021

Me: “Thank you for holding, this is [My Name], how may I help you?”

Customer: “Yeah, I was in your sh**ty store a couple hours ago, and I spent $170 f****** dollars, and the f****** knife set that I bought only has half the f****** knives in it.”

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that, ma’am. I’m not sure why there’s only half a set of knives there. If you’d like to bring the set and your receipt back in within the next thirty days, we’ll be happy to issue you a full refund.”

Customer: “What the f***?! Are you f****** high? I don’t want to return them, why the f*** would I want to return them?! I want the d*** knives! What did you do with my f****** knives, b****?!”

Me: “Ma’am, there is no need to use that kind of language. I am trying to help you.”

Customer: “Ooh. That’s it b****! I want your f****** name and your f****** boss’s name too!”

Just When You Think You Have A Problem Licked…

, , , , , , | Right | January 19, 2021

We’re at the height of the second wave of the health crisis. I have a job in food retail and am thus classified as an “Essential Worker.” We are not permitted to challenge customers on mask-wearing due to an incident in another store where a colleague got punched in the face for stopping a maskless customer from entering the store.

A customer with a full trolley comes into my lane and starts unloading. She’s not wearing a mask, but I am. I’m also behind a Perspex shield. I start scanning through her shopping as soon as it reaches me.

She ducks below the belt and picks up some plastic bags, showing them to me so I can charge her for them. So far, so good. She then stands at the end of my line with her trolley, opening the bags up, licking her finger for each and every bag. I quickly point out a trick that gets our — admittedly finicky — bags open quickly and easily make a throwaway remark about how licking one’s fingers right now is probably not the best of ideas.

She rolls her eyes and scoffs, and starts rattling off conspiracy theories, calling it a “scamdemic” and the works. I groan inwardly and just silently continue checking out her shopping whilst she waffles on. I half-expect her to start on 5G next.

I finally finish and she’s loaded everything into her trolley, I give her the total and she pulls out her wallet.

Lick, ten, lick, twenty, lick, thirty…

I page for a manager.

Me: “I am sorry, but I cannot accept that money from you. Do you have an alternative form of payment? A credit or debit card, perhaps?”

Customer: “What do you mean? This is money. Take my money!”

Me: “I cannot accept money covered in spit. To be frank, it’s gross at the best of times, and unacceptable during a health—”

Customer:How rude! I demand to—”

My manager walks up just as she’s about to blow a fuse and asks what’s going on.

Customer: “This little snot won’t take my money!”

Manager: “Is this true, [My Name]?”

Customer: “Of course it is! I demand that he take my money!”

My manager raises his hand at the customer and turns to me again.

Me: “It is true; she’s been licking her fingers through the whole transaction. I am not taking cash off her.”

Manager: “Okay… Ma’am, do you have an alternative form of payment?”

Customer: “I have cash! Take the cash! I don’t have a card! Take my f****** cash!”

Manager: “Your cash has already been refused on account of it being a biohazard. If you do not have alternative means of payment, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

The customer just splutters and stammers for a moment before turning and grabbing her trolley full of shopping and attempting to push it out the door, resuming her unhinged ramble about the crisis.

Manager: “HEY! You can’t walk out with that without paying!” *To me* “Page security, now.”

I rapidly pressed my page button, setting off the alarm in the warehouse. Two colleagues came sprinting down the store and my manager pointed them at the woman now trying to run out the door with her full trolley.

The police eventually got called when the customer decided that the best course of action when being challenged over the attempted theft of over £100 worth of shopping was to spit in my manager’s face.

You see all sorts in retail.

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White-Collar Workers Need To Get With The Times

, , , , , , | Right | January 19, 2021

This happens in the 1980s at a time when direct selling parties are all the rage. I am attending a party marketing cleaning products — face, body, household, etc. After being guided through giving ourselves facials, the consultant moves on to talking about laundry products. One of the attendees interrupts her spiel.

Attendee: “I already use a lot of this stuff but I’m still having trouble removing stains from inside my husband’s collars. He’s getting angry at me because he keeps having to spend money on new shirts and says that I am wasting money buying products that don’t work. Is there something that will definitely work?”

Consultant: “I do have some items that will work for that.”

She picks up one of the facial cleansers, a cake of soap, and a washcloth.

Consultant: “Just put a little cleanser or rub the soap onto a wet washer and—”

Attendee: *Interrupting* “I’ve already tried soap and I doubt that face cleanser would work on fabric.”

Consultant: “No, as I was saying, after doing that, you give the washer to your husband and tell him to wash his neck — either that or scrub his own d*** collars. It’s things like this that make me glad I never married.”

Everyone laughs. A few weeks later, I am back with the same group. The consultant asks the attendee how the collars are now.

Attendee: “He wasn’t happy with using women’s products but agreed to try it. I haven’t had to scrub a collar since and he wants me to order more face cleanser!”

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