It was my first week of working in a thrift store and it was our half-off sale day. People lined up outside of the store for hours prior to us opening, Black Friday style. Once the doors were opened people ran in, pushing and shoving to get carts and go to the furniture section. 

I looked over to our toy area and saw an 80-something-year-old woman ram a pregnant lady holding her toddler so that she could get a better look at the puzzles. 

I worked there for six more years.

(I try to apply a 15% discount to a $200 online order using a promo code emailed to me by the company, but their website isn’t accepting the code. I ring the helpline and the sales lady says she will apply the discount when my order goes through. This takes place the next day, and I get the same sales lady on the phone.)

Me: “Hi. I believe I spoke to you yesterday. I rang about the promo code that your website wasn’t accepting?”

Sales Lady: *super friendly, singsong voice* “Yes! I’ve applied the discount to your order. Thank yooouuu! That’s all for today?”

Me: “Umm, no. I just checked and I was charged the full amount.”

Sales Lady: *instantly gets defensive and blunt* “No, you weren’t. It was a $200 order, with a $15 postage fee, and your discount was $15.”

Me: “That’s not right; the discount should have been for 15%.”

Sales Lady: “Yes, and I took 15% off, which was $15.”

Me: “15% of $200 isn’t $15.”

Sales Lady: “Oh, that’s right. The promotion was for $15 off, not 15% off.”

Me: “No, I’m looking at the email right now. It’s 15% off… Part of the promo code is literally ‘15%.’”

Sales Lady: *suddenly very friendly again* “Oh, right. Yes, that should be $30! Sorry! This order has already been paid for now, so I can only credit your account for $15.”

Me: “Okay, great. Thanks.”

(I guess that’s one way to ensure repeat customers!)

(Our mall is full of kiosks with people trying to sell random makeup brands, cell phone accessories, etc. I don’t begrudge anyone doing their job, and I understand a lot of them are under pressure to make sales. However, some of them REALLY need to work on their pitch. One day, I’m walking past a kiosk where a woman is trying to sell expensive skin cream.)

Saleswoman: “Here you go, ma’am! Sit down right here.” *pointing to her chair arranged in front of her mirrors*

Me: *smiling and shaking my head* “No, thanks. I’m not interested.”

Saleswoman: *pulls a concerned, comically disgusted face and speaks in a tone of voice as if I were on my deathbed* “Oh, ma’am, I have to ask… What do you use for your facial cream?”

(Maybe I should have been offended or something, which is what my husband told me, but it was just SUCH an incredibly bad attempt to, I don’t know, neg me into a sale or whatever that I just burst into disbelieving laughter at her and kept walking. She turned bright red and glared at me. Hey, maybe I COULD use a fancy skincare regimen, but with a sales pitch like that, there was no way I was going to buy it from her.)

Customer: “I found these yesterday and they were half off. I hid them in the Men’s department, but someone moved them. I had to go looking for them again, and the price is now different.”

Me: “Yes, the sale ended yesterday, and any clothes found to be in another department is moved when we tidy the store every night.”

Customer: “Well, that’s just ridiculous. I want them for half price, as they said yesterday!”

Me: “But the sale ended yesterday. They’re full price again.”

Customer: “Well, make them half price. It doesn’t take an idiot to do that!”

Me: “I’m afraid I don’t have the administrative powers to do that.”

Customer: “Then get me a manager, you idiot!”

(I call one down and she explains the situation to him.)

Manager: “The sale ended yesterday. You either pay the price they are now or leave them.”

Customer: “But I wanted them yesterday. You should honour the price they were when I wanted them.”

Manager: “Why didn’t you buy them yesterday?”

Customer: “Because I’m buying them today!”

Manager: “Then you will be paying full price.”

Customer: “Well… you… you should make it obvious when sales are going to stop.”

Manager: “We make announcements all day for end of sales, and there are signs throughout the entire store. If you didn’t realise from that I cannot help you.”

(The manager walks away, ending any chance of her getting the price reduced. She folds her arms and harrumphs. I ask if she still wants them, but she doesn’t answer and just glares at me. I take it as a no and leave her. She stands there for nearly an hour, blocking mostly people using wheelchairs from using the aisle as they leave. My manager refuses to move her as he finds it hilarious how childish she is acting. As I’m on my way out for lunch she finally moves again.)

Woman: *throwing her arms up* “YOU’RE ALL MISOGYNISTS!”

(She storms up to me.)

Woman: “Except for you, dear. You’re just a blonde r******d bimbo.”

(She spat on the sliding doors as she left. Throughout the rest of the day, we got constant calls from someone who hung up the second we answered. We got in touch with the police who eventually found out it was the same woman, trying to harass us. We have her CCTV picture posted on the wall now as you come into the store. She tries to come in every other week, but when she sees she is still up on the wall, she harrumphs and storms out.)

(My husband and I are about to run out to do some errands. As I’m gathering my things together, the doorbell rings. It’s some grizzled-looking dude, perhaps a few years older than my 40-something husband, wearing a uniform polo and hawking Internet, cable, and phone service door-to-door. My husband decides to humor him and listen to his pitch on our front stoop while I get ready. Please note that I am also in my 40s and look it. I join them after a few minutes, and speak up at an appropriate break in the conversation.)

Me: *to my husband* “Ready to go?”

Salesman: *to husband* “That’s why [Internet service] is the best.” *to me, in what I can only describe as a “men are talking”-type condescending tone* “Hi, sweetie.”

Husband: *under his breath and with a smirk on his face* “Uh-oh.”

Me: *completely flabbergasted* “EXCUSE ME?”

(I don’t know what my face looks like just then, but the salesman blanches and starts to stammer.)

Salesman: “Uh… Um, thanks for humoring me.” *takes off down our stairs at a record pace without looking back*

Husband: *huge grin on his face* “Aaaaand that’s when he realized the steel trap had closed on his nuts.”