Customer: “I’d like to return this game.”
(He hands me a sports title, which is several years old.)
Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but we don’t accept open game returns, particularly games purchased at a competing store.”
Customer: “I purchased the d*** thing here!”
Me: “I’m afraid you didn’t. We don’t open games and put [competing company]’s stickers on the cases.”
Customer: “Well, why the f*** not?”
(I have just been assigned a new hire to shadow me on the registers when a customer with two heaping carts walks up to my register. I give her a friendly greeting, but she ignores me and starts piling her things (mostly $2-$3 clearance children’s clothes) on the counter. After I finish scanning the entire pile, she begins to scrutinize the screen which shows her the items she’s buying, including the prices and total.)
Customer: “How much is it?”
Me: “$150, ma’am.”
Customer: “That’s too much. Start over.”
(By this point, I had already spent more than ten minutes scanning her items.)
Me: *surprised* “Start over? I could just take off what you don’t want instead.”
Customer: “No. Scan it again. Start over.”
(The customer then starts digging through the pile, alternately throwing things at me, on the floor, and in several disorganized heaps on the counter. I void out the first transaction and reach for one of the piles to begin scanning again, but she slaps my hand away. After a while, she shoves a few shirts into my face, and then grabs them away when I move to scan them. Eventually, after another fifteen minutes, I have a pile of scanned items that she seems to approve of.)
Customer: “Here, I don’t want these either.”
(She throws still more items from the bottom of her cart at me. At this point, my bin for rejected items has long since overflowed, and the pile beside it is threatening to tumble over. Finally satisfied, the customer presents a coupon that doesn’t start until the next day.)
Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am. That coupon starts tomorrow, and I’m not allowed to accept it early. If you like, you could bring your receipt in tomorrow to get it adjusted.”
Customer: “Don’t bother. Just hold it until tomorrow for me.” *begins to walk away*
Me: *calling after her* “Ma’am! I’ll need your name to put it on hold!”
Customer: *storming back* “FINE! It’s [Name]! You’d better not lose all that! I spent a lot of time finding it all!”
Me: “Of course not, ma’am. It will be waiting for you at customer service. Have a nice day.”
Customer: “Whatever.” *marches out the door*
Me: *to new hire* “I think I need to take my break now. I’ll have you shadow [other cashier] until I get back.”
New Hire: “Does that happen a lot here?”
Me: “Unfortunately, far more than it should.”
(Today the store I work in is staying open later than the mall it’s a part of. Its external entrances are open, but there is a large, heavy metal grate over the entrance that connects it to the mall. I see a young girl walk by the entrance with an older female relative, holding her hand.)
Girl: “Oooh!” *moves towards the door*
Older Relative: “No, sweetie. That door is closed. We can’t go into the mall right now.”
Girl: “No, I was just thinking about it.”
Older Relative: “Thinking what, sweetie?”
Girl: “That it’d keep this place really good and protected if the zombies started attacking tonight!”
This story is part of the Zombies roundup!
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(I am starting to shut down my food cart. It has a ‘Now Hiring’ sign, which lists the wages. A man in his 40s walks up to take a food sample.)
Customer: “You know, if you lived in North Dakota you could get an easier job at $15/hour.”
Me: “Uh, that’s nice.”
Customer: “But that’ll change when Obama takes over the country. The wages will drop then.”
Me: “… That’s okay. I’m actually planning on moving to Canada in the next couple of years.”
Customer: *suspicious look* “Canada… You know who I’d trust to run my health care?”
Me: “No?”
Customer: “You. But I wouldn’t trust the Government. They’re shady.
Me: “Yeah. The government does seem to hide a lot from us.”
Customer: “It’s all because of Israel and The Vatican, anyway. Have you heard of the Jesuits?”
Me: “… Kind of?”
Customer: “Well, the black pope is running the Vatican from Jerusalem. See, he thinks the Ark of the Covenant is there. That’s why he wants to sit atop it and rule the world from there. He’s the one who’s actually in control of the Vatican, and running the USA.”
Me: “…”
Customer: “That’s why the USA likes Israel so much! It’s all because the Vatican is baptizing aliens.”
Me: “Aliens like… foreigners?”
Customer: “No, aliens! You know… The greys, the lizard people…”
Me: “…”
Customer: “Anyway, Obama. His name isn’t even Barack. He grew up in Indonesia, and people called him ‘Barry.'”
Me: “Well, Mitt Romney’s first name is actually Willard, which is worse in my opinion.”
Customer: “Hmm… That’s true…” *gives thoughtful suspicious look, as if he’s now distrustful of Romney*
Me: *coughs*
Customer: “Anyway. North Dakota. Think about it.” *walks off*
This story is part of the Aliens roundup!
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(I am known by my manager for being a bit too quiet sometimes, a side effect of my social anxiety. A customer approaches me holding a shirt and a bit of paper and a pen. I understand immediately what the issue is as we have a short back and forth of price checking by writing to each other on the scratch paper. My manager witnesses this exchange and pipes up.)
Manager: “[My Name], I know it’s crowded right now, but please use your words.”
Me: “She’s deaf.”
