I work at a home improvement store in the flooring section, and I’m training a new employee. I am giving the kid a tour of the department when I hear a whistle. I ignore it at first, but then I hear it again. I turn toward the noise and see three guys with a grocery cart standing in the laminate aisle.

Me: “Excuse me?”

Customer: “Yeah, we’re looking for flooring?”

Me: “Welp, you sure found it. This is the flooring department.”

And then I turn back around and continue training the new kid because I am not a dog nor a servant.

Me: *To the new kid* “You absolutely do not need to respond to anyone who treats you so poorly.”

The guests did approach the new guy a few minutes later. They weren’t apologetic, but they were slightly nicer. The new kid made a pretty decent sale from them but I refused to help them at all after that. Oh, well.

I’m the manager and owner of a small retail store. I get a loud, stupid customer who is verbally abusing some staff, so I intervene.

Me: “Get out of my store.”

Customer: “Get me the—”

Me: “I am the manager. And the owner. Get out.”

Customer: “I’ll make sure my friends never come back here!”

Me: “Good. I don’t want any more a**holes. I got my hands full with one right now.”

They shut up and left.

Related:
Getting Owned By The Owner, Part 22
Getting Owned By The Owner, Part 21
Getting Owned By The Owner, Part 20
Getting Owned By The Owner, Part 19
Getting Owned By The Owner, Part 18

My wife and I shopped in a home improvement store in the next town over. I purchased an item. As my purchase was being put in the register, the clerk asked for my zip code. I knew why but chose to ask the reason.

Clerk: “We need the zip code so we can charge the correct sales tax, according to the new state law that identifies the sales tax rate by the zip code of the customer.”

Me: “You don’t need it for this purchase.”

Clerk: “You don’t understand. We—”  

I cut her off in a nice way.

Me: “I do understand. I’m an accountant, and the new law requires you to charge sales tax by zip code at the point of delivery. Because this item is being delivered into my hands, in your store, in your town, that is the point of delivery for the zip code to charge sales tax. So, charge me the sales tax according to the rate in this town.”

A few weeks later, we were back in that store and purchased an item. It so happened that the same clerk rang us up.

Clerk: “You were the one who explained the sales tax to me, right?”

Me: “Yep.”

Clerk: “I told our manager what you told me. He called corporate and they told him, ‘That guy is right.’ We have been doing it wrong for a couple of months now. Thanks for correcting us.”

Did I get a discount? Did I want one? No. I just couldn’t let that store keep screwing up.

The customer service counter at my workplace is very near to the supermarket entrance. I’ve received some VERY good news as I arrive for my shift, so I’ve got a huge, dorky smile on my face.

A customer comes in, passes by the customer service counter, and stops when he sees me.

Customer: “What are you smiling for?”

Me: “I’m in a good mood.”

Customer: “Well, stop it!”

Me: “Sorry, but when I’m happy, I smile.”

Customer: “You’re not allowed to be happy!”

The absurdity of that statement is such that my coworker and I both break out laughing.

Customer: “Get me your manager!”

As luck would have it, my manager is present to hear that outburst.

Manager: “What seems to be the problem?”

Customer: “Your employees are happy!”

Manager: *Fighting a smile* “I’m… sorry?”

Customer: “She—” *points at me* “—was smiling when I walked in! She’s not supposed to be happy!”

Manager: “That’s… What?” *No longer trying to stop smiling* “I’m sorry, you’re… upset that someone is happy?”

Customer: “Yes! What are you going to do about it?”

My manager proceeds to step toward the counter, cross his arms on the surface, bury his head in them, and start laughing, renewing my coworker’s and my giggles.

Customer: “What is wrong with you?! I’m calling corporate!”

Manager: *Still laughing* “So, you’re going to call corporate and complain that the people working at [Supermarket] are happy?”

Customer: “YES!”

The customer stormed out as my manager, my coworker, and I all got the laughter out of our system.

My store price-matches but only if the customer provides proof of the matched price. We are not allowed to have our phones on the floor (except in emergencies) so we couldn’t even check things if we wanted to.

A man comes to my register with a large bag of dog food. 

Me: “Hi! Did you—”

Man: “What’s the best you can do on these?”

Me: “I’m sorry?”

Man: “What’s the best you can do? This s*** is too expensive.”

Me: “We do price-match if you—”

Man: “Who has it on sale?”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir. I can’t look it up for you.”

Man: “Well, why the h*** not? You got a phone.”

Me: “Not on me.”

Man: “What?”

Me: “I have no way to look for prices.”

Man: “So, what am I supposed to do?”

Me: “You can look them up online before—”

Man: “H*** no! I don’t have a computer, and I ain’t getting one!”

Me: “Okay, no problem. If you see a local flyer—”

Man: “You are not doing a d*** thing I asked you. Get your manager before I start hollering! Stupid girl, can’t do your job. You need to be trained in respect!”

He has been pretty loud up to this point, anyway, so I call for my manager without another word.

Manager: “Hi there. How—”

Man: “This one won’t price-match for me!”

Manager: “Oh, I’m sorry. Who are we matching?”

Man: *Slaps the register belt* “I just got done telling her, she’s the one to do it, not me!”

Manager: “I see. Sir, we do not provide the matched pr—”

Man: “No! You will! You—”

Manager: “We do not, and we will not. That’s the end of it. You can provide your own price to match, you can pay what we are charging, or you can leave. Those are your choices.”

The man stared at us for a moment and then walked away from the cart. [Manager] took it and put the dog food back on the shelf.

The man later called corporate and said we were discriminating against him for being old. Corporate apologized and sent him back to us for a $50 gift card for his trouble. He now picks the same fight every time he comes in.