I work for a large retail chain in the USA, and just like most retail stores, we have many different sales and deals that change on a weekly basis. More often than not, guests who are shopping there tend to overlook small details on the sale sign or simply just don’t read all of it, and then they get confused or angry when the sale isn’t exactly what they want.

We have a sale going on for [Brand] toothpaste products: buy three, get one 25% off. I am walking by the toothpaste aisle when a guest stops me to ask about the deal. She has quite a few different toothpaste brands in her cart.

Guest: “Excuse me, sir, can I ask about this sale on the sign real quick? Does the deal apply to all toothpaste brand products or just a specific one?”

Me: *Looking at the sign* “It looks like it’s going to be just for [Brand] products ma’am.”

Guest: *Slightly confused* “Well, where does it say that on the sign?”

I look at her for a few seconds, then look at the sign, and point directly to where it says, in big bold letters, the name of the brand.

Me: “Right there, ma’am.”

Guest: *Now quite upset* “Well, this is just too confusing. I’m not buying these anymore!”

She proceeded to put the toothpaste she had in her cart back onto the shelf. I walked away without saying another word, as I genuinely had to try and hold in my laughter from this encounter.

This story happened a few years back when the global health crisis was first sweeping the globe, and the hand sanitizer craze was still going strong. I worked for a general goods retail chain, and one of the many different things we sold happened to be hand sanitizer, although, to no one’s surprise, we were temporarily out of stock.

As I was walking by the hand sanitizer and soap aisle, I overheard this encounter between one of my coworkers and an elderly woman who had to be at least in her seventies.

Coworker: “I really am sorry, ma’am, but we probably won’t have any hand sanitizer back in stock for a few days — maybe not even until next week. But if you’re looking for something to keep your hands clean with, we still have plenty of hand soap left in stock. It really is the best thing for washing your hands.”

Elderly Lady: “Wait, really? Soap really washes your hands like that?”

Coworker: “Yeah, it really does. Would you like some?”

Elderly Lady: “Well, I guess I might as well try it; I suppose it couldn’t hurt. Thank you so much, young man.”

There was no sarcasm in that lady’s voice. She was being completely genuine and truly, honestly, seemed to have no idea that hand soap could actually wash your hands effectively. And as old as she was, I can’t help but wonder how she made it that far in life without knowing about the great wonders of soap. I wish this story were a joke.

Me: “This oversized six-by-twelve-foot poster is going to be located in the Tourist Information Center just three blocks away from your shopping mall. I strongly suggest we add your address to it so that people know where to find you.”

Client: “I don’t want our address on it. If people want to find us, they’ll just have to look for us.”

I live in a VERY Catholic town. It’s not uncommon to see nuns around the town wherever you are.

It’s a normal day at work. A big church bus pulls into the lot, and two nuns hop out and come into the store. I greet them normally and let them go about their business, and they come up to the counter a few minutes later, armed with a couple of bottles of water and a snack or two.

Here’s where it gets… a little dicey. My register doesn’t take off two-for-whatever deals until I hit the total button, so right now, their total is around eight-something. I hit the button, and what does their total become?

$6.66.

I immediately start cackling like a crazy person.

Me: *Through stomach-aching laughter* “No. No, I’m sorry. Absolutely not. [Coworker]!”

My coworker came, and as best I could, I asked them to please finish the transaction because I physically couldn’t do it. They did, also giggling at the total at first before very kindly telling the ladies what it was. One of them quietly slipped a pack of gum onto the counter.

They paid and left, and I spent the rest of the day and many days thereafter telling this story.

Related:
A Price For The Devil To Pay, Part 6
A Price For The Devil To Pay, Part 5
A Price For The Devil To Pay, Part 4
A Price For The Devil To Pay, Part 3
A Price For The Devil To Pay, Part 2

I’m stationed in the outdoor/garden area of the store on a bright summer day. I’m pretty good with hot weather — usually. Today, I am not, so when I have a break between customers, I call my supervisor.

Supervisor: “Hey, [My Name], do you need something?”

Me: “Not really. I was just wondering if I could come inside. I’m not handling the heat as well as I usually do.”

Supervisor: “I’ll be right out with somebody to take your place.”

She arrives in less than five minutes with one of my coworkers behind her to swap out with me. [Coworker] and I wave to each other as I follow [Supervisor] back into the store.

Me: “So, where do you want me? Self-checkout, registers, lumber?”

Supervisor: “I want you in the break room for at least half an hour. If you still don’t feel well by then, let us know.”

Me: *Chuckling* “I’m just a little warm, [Supervisor].”

Fifteen minutes later, I was in the store bathroom throwing up. 

Once I had recovered enough to be sure it wouldn’t happen again — at least for a while — I told [Supervisor] that I was going home to actually rest and thanked her for letting me go. She gave me strict orders to pull over if I started feeling unwell while driving, and then she saw me off. 

Thank you, [Supervisor].