(I am out shopping when a young girl, maybe four or five years of age, runs up to me and hugs my leg. A woman is following her.)

Woman: “[Girl], come on, we need to finish shopping for Grandma’s party!”

Girl: “No! I want to stay here!”

Woman: “This is ridiculous.”

(She grabs the girls arm and the girl makes an ear-splitting scream. The woman lets go and huffs.)

Woman: “You don’t mind.” *walks away*

Me: *shouting after her* “I do mind, actually!”

(I manage to get the attention of a worker, who tries to bring the woman back while I try to get the girl off me. When the woman returns, she starts shouting at me and the other workers who have been trying to help.)

Woman: “In what world do you live in where you think it is appropriate to handle a little girl like this?!”

Me: “In what world do you think it’s okay to leave a little girl with a man you don’t know?!”

(She blushed and tried grabbing the girl again. The girl started screaming again and kicking me. By this time the police had been alerted, and once the girl was successfully removed and calmed down, I was questioned on why I was letting all of this happen. Thanks to the workers in the store, and the woman who at this point was absolutely hysterical, I was free to go after it was discovered the woman had taken her niece out without the girl’s mother’s permission, who had actually made a call to the police about the girl being missing.)

(I am browsing in a shop that sells jewellery, scarves, and other accessories. I find something I want to buy and wait while they serve another customer, a young woman who is trying on a necklace. Neither the customer nor the owner speak English as a first language.)

Customer: “I’m not sure. I think the chain might be a bit long.”

Owner: “We could cut the chain, if you like.”

Customer: *noncommittally, as if she’s mulling it over* “Okay.”

(The owner’s wife immediately snatches the necklace away and cuts the chain.)

Owner: “That will be [price].”

Customer: *looks at the necklace again and tries it on with the new chain length* “No, I don’t think I want it.”

Owner: “You have to buy it now. We cut the chain for you. We can’t sell it.”

Customer: “I didn’t ask you to.”

Owner: “You said, ‘Okay.’ ‘Okay,’ means, ‘Yes.’ You don’t speak proper English. I speak English. ‘Okay,’ means, ‘Yes.’ You must buy it.”

Customer: “I don’t want to buy it.”

(Then, the owner and his wife physically manhandled the woman out of the shop, yelling about how they were going to call the police on her. I threw down the thing I was thinking of buying and ran out of the shop, too, chasing after the woman, who was sobbing on the street, to console her. I still regret not calling the police on them for assault, or even saying something to them.)

(I order some clothes online from a very well-known brand, and since it took very long for my order to arrive the last time, I decide I can spare the five euros for next-day delivery. I order on Wednesday and hope my parcel will arrive just in time for me to wash the jeans before I go on a weekend trip the following week on Friday. Wednesday evening, I receive an email from the delivery service, saying my parcel will arrive on Friday. Thursday, another email comes in saying it will come earlier, on Thursday. But nothing arrives. Neither does it on Friday, so I decide to look at the tracking log. It says the parcel arrived at the distribution centre. I think maybe there was a problem and it will come on Saturday for sure. It doesn’t. Since then, the tracking log has sounded like a huge joke:)

Tracking Log: “Saturday: delivery address was not found.”

Tracking Log: “Sunday.” *they don’t deliver on Sundays* “Recipient was not encountered.”

Tracking Log: “Monday: 06:45 recipient was not encountered.”

Tracking Log: “10:45 parcel is being delivered.”

Tracking Log: “Tuesday: 07:23 recipient was not encountered.”

Tracking Log: “10:50 parcel is being delivered.”

Tracking Log: “Wednesday: 06:58 recipient was not encountered.”

Tracking Log: “11:03 parcel is being delivered.”

(It sounds very strange to me that they don’t meet me while the parcel is not even being delivered, despite me being a stay-at-home mom and being there ALL THE TIME. There is no way they’ve missed me. I call the service hotline of the clothing retailer and they assure me that the parcel is on the way and they will waive my delivery fee, since it’s clearly not the next day. On Thursday, still, nothing has arrived. The tracking log goes on the same way. I am very frustrated and call the delivery service. The service rep states that there must have been some kind of problem and he will have my parcel delivered to a station where I can pick it up on Friday after 16:00. I am at the station at 17:00, but the parcel is not. As soon as I get home, I call the retailer again because I am beyond frustrated. Now I think that they may have lost my delivery, but the rep tells me she spoke to them and guarantees me it will be at the station on Monday. Lo behold, it’s not. I call again:)

Me: “…and it was not there on Monday, either.”

Service Rep: “Oh, that’s too bad. I’m sorry. Let me have a look.”

Me: “I was thinking they lost it somehow.”

Service Rep: “Um, that’s very unlikely… Oh, it says it’s being delivered to you! Everything is fine.”

Me: “Yeah, it was being delivered yesterday too, and the day before and the whole last week! Just look into the tracking log. It’s a joke. A very bad one.”

Service Rep: “Uh… That’s weird.”

Me: “Yes.”

Service Rep: “Let me just look into that real quick.”

(After that, he was way more helpful, and cancelled the delivery order so the parcel would return to them… if it was still with the delivery company, which I highly doubt. He also gave me a coupon code for my next order, but I don’t think I will be ordering there anytime soon. I bought my jeans from another online store that uses another delivery company, and it arrived two days later.)

(I work at a bargain outlet that has their own membership bonus card. I am on register ringing up a woman and who I’m assuming is her mother. The woman looks to be in her 50s, the mother in her 70s. I ask her for her bonus card and she starts pulling cards out of her wallet, trying to find it.)

Me: “Could it be under a phone number? I can try and look it up for you.”

Customer: *recites the number*

Me: *punches in the number, confirms that’s her information, and gives her the total*

Customer: *stands there and looks at me*

Me: “Will it be cash or card?”

Customer: “I already gave you my credit card.”

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry, ma’am; I don’t remember you handing me a card.”

Customer: *starts digging through her wallet again*

Me: *starts searching around the register in case it got dropped or I picked it up absent-mindedly while looking up her information* “I’m sorry, ma’am. I don’t see it anywhere.”

(I notice that my co-cashier needs my signature on a receipt so I quickly sign it and return it to her register, which is two feet from me. We work back to back almost. Meanwhile, the customer’s mom is getting frustrated)

Customer’s Mother: “What is going on?”

Customer: “I can’t find my credit card.” *still searching her wallet*

Customer’s Mother: “I just saw you have it and hand it to her; where is it?” *starts rooting through her daughter’s purse now*

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, I don’t have it.”

(Even though I’m fairly certain I don’t, I check the floors and the countertop to see if it slipped off somewhere, but no luck. The mother starts getting really upset and really loud, claiming over and over again that she just saw her daughter have the card and hand it to me. I’m just standing there, unsure of what to do. I’m about ready to empty my pockets and ask them if they want to see a manager when the customer just pays with cash. I finish the transaction for them and hand them the receipt.)

Customer: “If I happen to find it, I’ll call you and tell you.”

(I take down her name and number in case it shows up, and then I run to my manager.)

Me: “I think I just had a customer accuse me of theft.”

Manager: “Okay, follow me.”

(We went into the front office, and not even five minutes later we got a call saying she’d found her card. Here’s the best part, though: that’s all she said. No apology, no admitting she was wrong, nothing. She basically accused me of stealing her credit card, and didn’t even apologize.)

(I work in a supermarket as a deli manager, but as we are a small store, some of our staff are trained in different departments, including registers. There’s a customer waiting to buy smokes, so a girl calls for assistance.)

Me: “Hi, sorry for the wait. What can I get you?”

Customer: “Can I get [Brand] and a lighter?”

(Legislation says we have to card anyone under 25.)

Me: “Sure. Do you have any ID?”

Customer: “It’s my birthday today.”

Me: “Well, happy birthday, but I still need to see some ID.”

Customer: “I don’t have ID, but today is my 21st birthday.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but if you can’t produce ID, I can’t sell you these.”

Customer: “This is ridiculous! I buy [Brand] here all the time. It’s my birthday and I want my smokes!”

Me: “Sir, I have never served you before, so I can’t verify your age. Unless you provide ID, I can’t legally sell you these.”

(He points to the girl who is serving on another register.)

Customer: “She’s served me before! Come here and sell me these smokes because this b**** won’t.”

Coworker: “I’ve never seen you in my life, and I certainly won’t serve you after that comment.”

Customer: “Just sell me my f****** smokes!”

Me: “Sir, as you can’t provide ID and are becoming aggressive, I need to ask you to leave.”

Customer: “This is bulls***! That lady over there has served me, too! I’m 21!”

(He points to my worker in the deli. I turn to him and smile, because she isn’t trained on registers.)

Me: “I can assure you, that worker over there has never served smokes to anyone in the six years this store has been open.”

(The customer realizes he’s just screwed himself.)

Customer: “This is bulls***. You can all go to f****** h***. I’ll go to [Branch].”

(I was shaking at this point, as he was getting right up in my face. What he didn’t see was mall security coming up behind him. After protesting that we were many different expletives, he got kicked out. I had to write up an incident report, but before that, I rang two other branches closest to us and warned them. He only tried one branch, but still didn’t have ID and was refused service again.)

Related:
No ID, No Idea, Part 37
No ID, No Idea, Part 36
No ID, No Idea, Part 35