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Having A Trawa Wah-wah

, , , | Right | June 21, 2019

(I’ve been working at this store for a little over six months and have a pretty good handle on how things work and store policies, etc. As I am restocking, I approach a couple obviously looking for assistance.)

Me: “Hi. How are you today?”

Customer: *points at a small box with a small child’s bicycle, and in a thick accent, loudly and bluntly* “Trawa!”

Me: *looks at product, trying to decipher what she just said* “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear; could you say that again?”

Customer: *rolls eyes* “Get me a trawa. Where is trawa?”

Me: *thinking she is saying “trailer”* “This bicycle doesn’t come with a trailer, but there is another product that is the same that includes…”

(The customer cuts me off; her husband is glaring at me with a disgusted look.)

Customer: “You stupid girl. No, listen to me. Get me a trawa!”

Me: “I’m really sorry, but I am having trouble understanding. Is there another word or way to explain what you want? If you’re asking for a trolley, I’m afraid this store doesn’t supply them and I would be happy to take it to the counter for you.”

Customer: *yelling unintelligible insults*

Me: “Okay, I’ll be right back.”

(I got the manager to deal with them because I was too upset. Turns out she wanted one of those heavy-duty box-moving trolleys to move the 9-kg box to her car. Her burly husband said nothing. The manager just carried it out for her. I quit a few months later. I’m just not cut out for retail.)

The Mother Of All Bad Cashiers

, , , , , , , | Working | June 21, 2019

(I’m shopping after work at an electronics store. They have convenience items, like cookies, sodas, and various treats along a small aisle by the cash registers. A man and his kid are checking out in front of me.)

Kid: “Daddy! Daddy-daddy-daddy-daaaaddyyyyy! Can I have this? Please?” *puts a bag of cookies on the counter by the register, and addresses the cashier* “I wanna get these cookies, too!”

Dad: “Son, no. Reme—“

Cashier: “OH! I don’t know; you’d better ask your mommy! She mi—“

Kid: “I DON’T HAAAAAAAVE A MOMMY!” *starts wailing*

Dad: “Who? What?” *trying to talk and comfort his son through the crying* “Son, I already told you, we have those cookies at home!” *glares at the cashier and says quietly* “You have some d*** nerve.”

(They rush out of the store, the man consoling his very agitated son, as I bring a cart, a soda, and the same brand of cookies to the register, along with a ticket for a TV in the back.)

Cashier: “Oh, you just like contradicting your husband, don’t you? And what is this?” *holds up my ticket for the TV*

Me: “What? I’m extremely single. I don’t have any husband. And that’s for a TV.”

Cashier: “Oh, so, he won’t be helping out with this today? How can a little girl like you lift such a thing?” *holds up the ticket for the TV*

(Instead of scanning the ticket for the TV, the cashier talks in the most condescending, smarmy manner she can muster about how small and weak I must be, and how a real man would help me lift a TV like that. I’m pretty vexed at this point, and while I may be super skinny, I’m also rather tall so, instead of slouching over the cart I have for the TV, I push the cart aside and stand up to my full height. The cashier stops talking mid-sentence.)

Cashier: *finally scans ticket* “Um… so, how will you be paying for this today?”

Me: “Oh, me? Pay? This?” *going from serious to sarcasm in the next couple sentences* “Oh, I am no longer interested in purchasing those items. They are oh sooooo very hard to lift because I’ve never, ever, ever lifted a single thing ever in my entire life before this! Oh, dear me. Whatever shall I doooo?” *wipes my hand across my forehead, fake coughs, and becomes serious again* “I’d like to speak to your manager now!”

(The manager seemed rather apologetic about her behaviour, saying that they’d gotten several complaints, and even had one customer who was refused service after the cashier had scanned her item with a guy’s items, and told both of them to suck it up, when he realized that he was paying for the random person behind him. I said that while I appreciated his apology and the offer for free delivery and installation of my TV, the fact that the company seemed willing to tolerate this cashier and her antics – particularly the story he mentioned – made my decision for me. I accepted only corporate’s phone number, opting to never shop there again. On my way out, I saw the man come back with his son, who was sleeping in a cart. I gave him the number to corporate and introduced him to the manager I had spoken with. The manager was short-tempered and grumpy towards the man, who returned his entire order and got a refund for that and the cookies he was charged for but never took out of the store.)

Your Policy Knowledge Cannot Be Discounted

, , , , | Right | June 20, 2019

(I work at a discount retail store. We often don’t have enough space to separate nested boxes individually on the shelves, so we will leave them within each other, but they do have the prices on each box. A customer comes up to my register and I begin to state that the nested boxes are individually priced.)

Me: “Just to let you know these boxes inside are individually priced.”

Customer: “No, they are not! They were inside each other and are sold as a set!”

Me: “I can assure you that they are not sold as a set; we just do not have enough shelf space to take out each individual box.”

Customer: “Then show me the price tags on each!”

(I slowly lift the second box out of the first box — without even looking at the bottom because I certainly know they are priced separately — and show the customer.)

Customer: “This is a disgrace! I will be contacting the Better Business Bureau on you and your store!”

Me: “Well, miss, if you have shopped here for a while, you know we never sell sets.”

Customer: “No! You just haven’t worked here long enough to know the policy for these items! I should get a four-box for, say, $6.99.”

Me: *starting to get aggravated* “Well, I’ve only worked here for six years and am the front-end supervisor.”

Customer: “That’s not enough time to know how your policy works!”

(She ended up storming off without purchasing anything.)

Making A Limp Apology

, , , , , | Working | June 20, 2019

I lost my lower left leg in a car accident years ago and now use a prosthetic. Even though I have a disabled plate and placard, I don’t always need to park in a handicap spot. I only use those spots on my bad days when I experience ghost pains or pain in the area of the amputation and have trouble walking or standing on that leg for a prolonged length of time. However, when you see me, unless I’m wearing shorts or a dress, you can’t tell I have a prosthetic leg and I may look “normal” to people. On those bad days, the only tell-tale sign may be a little limp at most but nothing too obvious.

On one bad day that I needed to use a handicap spot, an employee who was taking a smoking break outside the store took it upon herself to confront me in the parking lot after I got out of my car. She accused me of not being handicapped and said that I didn’t deserve to park in that spot, that I should be ashamed because I was abusing the system, and that I was just being lazy. She even threatened to call the police and said someone on disability couldn’t afford the kind of car I had.

Just because someone is disabled doesn’t automatically mean they’re on disability or can’t work.

By now, people were watching her ranting and some actually agreed with her or just watched. I tried to explain that just because I don’t look handicapped, it doesn’t mean I’m not, but nothing helped. Now, I’m not embarrassed of my injury, but I am a little self-conscious of it when it becomes the center of attention. So, even though I didn’t have to, I raised my pants leg to show the prosthetic.

I have never seen a group of idiots shut up so fast. The employee who started it all just said, “Whatever! Not my fault!” and walked back into the store without even apologising. Most of the small crowd of people who were agreeing with her walked away, too, most without saying a word; others just laughed it off like it was a joke. Only one person had the decency to say sorry for assuming.

Situations like this have happened a handful of times over the years and, normally, I would have just let it go, because the accuser usually apologises and gets a lesson on not judging a book by its cover, etc., but not this time — not after what she said about it not being her fault. Whether she meant she wasn’t at fault for accusing me of not being handicapped or not at fault for my injury, I wasn’t going to just let it go this time.

I went into the store and to the service desk and reported her, and they sent for the manager. I explained again to him what happened and he called the employee up to the service desk. When she saw me, before the manager even said a word, she started defending herself, yelling something like, “It’s not my fault she doesn’t look like a gimp!” Yes, she said, “gimp.” “I didn’t know! Look at her! She doesn’t even need a wheelchair or nothing! She doesn’t even look it! Why should she park there?! Why is everyone mad at me?!”

After she finally finished her tirade, the manager had her go to his office and said they would “talk about her behavior.” He turned to me, apologised profusely, and ended up giving me a $50 gift certificate for the store. I did tell him I wasn’t blaming the store but would appreciate it if he could train the employees about those of us who are disabled, about hidden disabilities, and about not just assuming things. Whether or not the manager did that, I don’t know, but he did seem genuinely concerned that one of his employees would say such things and told me that he would look into it.

I’m not one for being that customer who’s always looking for freebies — I used to work in retail and I understand — but I didn’t mind getting that $50 gift certificate.

I don’t know what happened to that employee, but since that day I’ve never seen her there again and it’s been over a year.


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So, It Used To Belong To Bad Customers, Then…

, , , , | Working | June 19, 2019

(I work as a cashier for a store that employs about 20 to 25 people, depending on the season. Our store has recently hired a few new people, one of whom is working a part of my shift. Our store allows cashiers to keep food and drink at their registers as long as it remains out of sight. I usually bring a water bottle with me, but today I’ve filled it with cranberry juice instead of water, making it look dark red instead of clear. I go behind the main counter, set my bottle down, and talk with the new hire, my manager, and one of my regular coworkers. I’m known around my store for having a quirky, slightly dark sense of humor.)

Coworker: *points to bottle* “What’s in here?”

Me: *deadpan and without thinking* “The blood of my enemies.”

(My manager, coworker, and the new hire start laughing.)

New Hire: “I like you.”

(Thankfully, most of the staff has worked with me long enough to appreciate my odd sense of humor. The new girl will fit in just fine.)