Self-Tipped

, , , , , , | Legal | April 6, 2019

My husband and I went out to eat at a wings restaurant. We had a great meal, paid, and left. My husband has a tendency to forget things, so I always go through the same spiel anytime we go anywhere. Do you have your phone? Keys? Wallet? Sure enough, he had left his wallet at the restaurant.

We went back and they brought it out to us from lost and found. My husband looked inside to see if everything was there, and there was a $100 bill missing. The week prior was his birthday, and his coworker/mentor gave him $100 as a gift. My husband had been saving it to buy a nice jacket, which we were going shopping for later that day, so I know for sure the money was in the wallet.

When we realized that the money was gone, we asked for a manager. We pointed out the waitress, who denied taking it. We asked to see the cameras, but the manager said in order for us to watch them we had to file a police report, but he himself watched the video and said he saw no one open the wallet. I don’t know if he really watched the video, though, because he didn’t seem to be gone long enough. At this point, we were at a loss of what to do, and the manager was acting as if we were lying and asked us to leave.

We did call the police, but it was going to be a lot of red tape to get them involved, and my husband was so angry he just said forget it. I think the waitress took the wallet away from the cameras, anyway, to take the money.

The very next morning, I got a call from our bank asking if we had tried to purchase a really expensive gaming system online. The charge had occurred the night before and was declined. No, it was not us; neither of us plays video games. We had to cancel our card and get a new one issued, and I am positive that the waitress must have written down the card info from my husband’s wallet. After reading stories on NotAlwaysRight, I can totally see how the manager thought we were trying to scam them. But sometimes, the customers aren’t lying.

Wireless, Clueless, And Racist

, , , , , , | Right | March 19, 2019

(I’m working at a retail drug store that has a photo kiosk available for customers to come in and print photos from their phone. I am ringing up a line of customers when another customer calls me from the kiosk, yelling across the store.)

Customer: “Can I get some help, please?!”

Me: “Absolutely, ma’am. I’ll call up my manager, since I’m the only cashier today.”

Customer: *scoffs*

(I call up my manager, and can hear her trying to help the lady from several feet away.)

Manager: “Just plug your phone into the cords we have provided. That’s the simplest and fastest way to do this.”

Customer: “No! You’re going to steal all my information from my phone! I want to do this wirelessly!”

Manager: “Okay… the best way to do that is to do it as an online order, which may take up to an hour. We will be watching the kiosks, so as soon as the order comes through, we can print it instantly. However, as I said, it may take up to an hour for the order to come through. I highly recommend you plug the phone in, instead, as that will be much quicker.”

Customer: “I’m not using your cords. You’re trying to steal my credit card information! I’ll just do it as an online order.”

(The customer proceeds to put in an online order with her phone. Ten minutes later, her order has not yet come through, despite both my manager and I checking the kiosk repeatedly. My manager goes to the bathroom and is gone for a total of one minute and thirty seconds. During that time, the customer brings her four-year-old daughter up to me and screams:)

Customer:If and when those photos finally come in, you can throw them out. I’m taking my business somewhere else. I’ve been waiting for these photos for thirty minutes! This is absolutely ridiculous! That [racial slur] of a manager promised me that they would be ready instantly. I’m leaving and never coming back!”

Me: “Ma’am, I heard her tell you that it could take up to an hour, and I heard you agree to this. Are you sure I can’t take a phone number and call you when they’re ready?”

Customer: “No! Throw them out. I’m going elsewhere.”

(As they are leaving her daughter turns around and says:)

Daughter: “We’re going to [Direct Competitor].”

(Her photos were ready seconds after she left. There were over 300 photos and we had to just throw them away.)

It’s Immoral To Be Different From Me!

, , , , , , | Legal | October 24, 2018

(I work nights, Sunday night to Thursday, with Friday and Saturday nights off. I leave for work around nine pm due to the length of my commute. About four pm one Sunday afternoon, I’m roused from a rather peaceful sleep by a series of knocking on the door… rather loud, insistent knocking. Dragging myself to the door, I open it to find a police officer and one of my neighbors standing on my porch.)

Me: *bleary-eyed and yawning* “Whasthisbout?”

Officer: “There have been some calls about your activities, and we felt the need to check on you.”

Me: “Activities? What do you mean, ‘activities’?”

Officer: “Do you mind stepping outside?”

Me: “Considering you just woke me up from a deep sleep? Yeah. What’s this all about?”

Neighbor: “I’ll tell you what it’s about, mister! No one ever sees you during the day, and we all see you wandering off to God-knows-where late at night, only to return in the early morning! That’s not right. We know you’re up to something, and we’re not putting up with your immoral lifestyle any longer!”

Me: “Immoral lifestyle?”

Neighbor: *to the officer* “It’s just not right. He’s probably selling drugs or something. I don’t feel safe with him around here!”

Officer: *to her* “I’ll handle it, ma’am. Sir, we’ve had several calls, and it’s starting to become a problem. Drugs are an issue in this area, so it’d be easier on everyone if you just cooperated and told us what you are doing. Mind stepping out here so we can talk?”

Me: “I’m heading to work.”

Neighbor: “See?! He admits it!”

Officer: “And where do you work, sir? Do you have a number we can confirm that with?”

Me: “I do.” *rattles off work phone number*

Officer: *not really paying attention as he writes* “And what do you do there, sir?”

Me: “I’m the night duty watch sergeant.”

Officer: *still not paying attention* “Uh-huh. And where is this?”

Me: “[Local Prison].”

(At this point the officer blinks and then looks up. He looks back to the notes and then says slowly.)

Officer: “You work at [Prison]?”

Me: “Yep. I’m the night watch sergeant over B block.”

(The neighbor’s smug face has started to sour at this point as she looks to the officer. He, however, turns on her.)

Officer: “So, let me get this straight. You see him leaving late at night, and then coming back early in the morning… and it never dawned on you that maybe he works nights?”

Neighbor: “But… it’s immoral! He should be at home at night, and he never shows up to church; we’ve not seen him there once! This is America. It’s a law; he has to go to church on Sunday!”

Officer: “No, lady, it’s not a law. There’s no such law.”

(Turning back to me, he nodded, apologized for waking me up, and then told the lady that he was done. As I was closing my door, I heard her shrill voice screaming, “But it’s the LAW! This is a Christian nation; he HAS to go to church!” The next day, after I got off work, I stopped by the local church and had a word with the pastor there. He’s something of an old family friend. I related what the lady had said, and that she’d called the police on me. He said that he wasn’t at all surprised, and noted that she’d come to him with it first, only to leave in a huff when he explained that he wasn’t going to do anything about it and advised her that it was best left alone. I lived there another six months with the biddy glowering at me every day as I came home from work, before I rented another house closer to work.)

It Stocks To Be You!

, , , , , | Right | July 5, 2018

(I am a travelling manager for a clothing store chain. I fill in after managers have been transferred to other stores. I cover the next three to six months while a new manager is sourced to the store before moving on to another one myself. One of the key parts of my job is turning the stores around. Nine times out of ten, the previous manager is being relocated for not following policy. This means I often have to start enforcing rules that might have previously been ignored. I’m working at one store which has had its entire management staff fired. Two church ladies walk in together.)

Customer #1: “Can I return an item from layaway? I’ve decided that I can’t really afford it.”

(The item is a dress she wanted to wear for Easter church services, and while it’s very nice, she’s found something cheaper. I agree to this, pull up her ticket, and start working through the return.)

Customer #1: “How long have you been here? Are you the new manager?”

(I explain the issue, dodging around why the previous management team were fired, and hand her back her money. [Customer #2] steps up at this point.)

Customer #2: “I also want to return my dress on layaway.”

(The process begins again. This time, however, I see that there’s going to be a snag. The company has a policy where you can place something on layaway for up to 60 days. During the first 30 days, any item on layaway can be returned for the full price you paid. From 31 days forward, you pay a restocking fee. On the 61st day, regardless of how much you have paid, the items will be restocked and your money — minus the fee — set aside. Problem one: [Customer #2] is thirty-five days in, four days past the cut-off for a full return. Problem two: [Customer #2] only put the minimum down, which, with tax, works out to about five dollars and some change. Problem three: The minimum restocking fee is five dollars. I realize this, and try to explain to the woman.)

Me: “Uh, there are some problems, just so you know. There will be a restocking fee.”

Customer #2:Oh, that’s quite all right. I know, I read that little card of yours.”

Me: “You’re sure? I mean, it’d probably be better to pay it off and return it then.”

Customer #2:Sweetie, I’m a lawyer; I read all the fine print.”

Me: “Well, if you’re sure.”

(I do the return, with the system forcing me to do the restocking fee automatically. It then tells me to give her all of seventy cents in change back. I hand her a card that she must sign to acknowledge that I’ve done the return. She signs it with a flourish and then holds out her hand. I drop the coins into it.)

Customer #2: “What’s this?”

Me: “It’s your return.”

Customer #2: “It’s not enough.”

Me: “It’s what you get back, after the restocking fee.”

Customer #2: *changing her tune 180-degrees* “No one told me about a restocking fee!”

Me: “You signed the paper, right under the bold black letters that warn it. You also signed the layaway ticket saying you’d read and understood the policies.”

Customer #2: “No one reads those things! I want my money!” *her voice rising at this point* “Give me my g**d*** money!”

Me: “I can’t. You signed the paper, and you said you were a lawyer and understood there would be a fee.”

Customer #2:F*** your restocking fee! I thought it’d only be a few cents.”

Me: “The contract you signed notes the minimum fee is five dollars.”

Customer #2: *screaming and yelling* “I’m calling the police! You’re cheating me, you thief!”

(She whips out her phone and calls 911, claiming she’s just been robbed. It doesn’t take long for two police cars to pull up and the officers to head in. They try to sort out what’s going on, at first thinking I am a witness, until the woman screams that I robbed her. I calmly explain the contract to the officer, and show where she signed off on it. The police tell her that she signed the paper saying she understood and accepted the fee, so no crime was committed. What’s more, they tell her that it isn’t something to waste their time with a false 911 call for, so she is going to be getting a ticket for that. All the while, the lady is screaming at the police, and then at me.)

Customer #2: “You smug little a**, standing there with a smile on your face. You’re happy for yourself, aren’t you?”

Me: “I’ve had better days.”

Customer #2: “Always with the smart comments. Got anything else to say?”

Me: “Have you considered Jesus Christ as your own personal Savior?”

Customer #2: “F*** Christ!”

(With that, she stormed out, while the officers stood around dumbfounded. I never saw her in the store again, though the pastor stopped by about a week later to apologize for the actions of one of his flock.)

Unfiltered Story #91971

, , , | Unfiltered | August 28, 2017

(I’m working at a retail drug store that has a photo kiosk available for customers to come in and print photos from their phone. I am ringing up a line of customers when another customer calls me from the kiosk, yelling across the store.)
Customer: Can I get some HELP, please??!
Me: Absolutely, ma’am. I’ll call up my manager, since I’m the only cashier today.
Customer: (Scoffs)
(I call up my manager, and can hear her trying to help the lady from several feet away.)
Manager: Just plug your phone into the cords we have provided. That’s the simplest and fastest way to do this.
Customer: NO! You’re going to steal all my information from my phone! I want to do this wirelessly!!
Manager (internally facepalming, I’m sure): Okay… the best way to do that is to do it as an online order, which may take up to an hour. We will be watching the kiosks, so as soon as the order comes through, we can print it instantly. However, as I said, it may take up to an hour for the order to come through. I highly recommend you plug the phone in instead, as that will be much quicker.
Customer: I’m not using your cords. You’re trying to steal my credit card information! I’ll just do it as an online order.
(The customer proceeds to put in an online order with her phone. Ten minutes later, her order has not yet come through, despite both my manager and I checking the kiosk repeatedly. My manager goes to the bathroom and is gone for a total of one minute and thirty seconds. During that time, the customer brings her four year old daughter up to me and screams:)
Customer: IF and WHEN those photos FINALLY come in, you can THROW THEM OUT. I’m taking MY BUSINESS somewhere else. I’ve been waiting for these photos for THIRTY MINUTES! This is ABSOLUTELY RIDICULOUS! That (racial slur) of a manager PROMISED me that they would be ready INSTANTLY. I’m leaving, and never coming back!
Me: Ma’am, I heard her tell you that it could take up to an hour, and I heard you agree to this. Are you sure I can’t take a phone number and call you when they’re ready?
Customer: NO. Throw them out. I’m going elsewhere.
(As they are leaving her daughter turns around and says:)
Daughter: We’re going to (direct competitor).
(The kicker? Her photos were ready seconds after she left. There were over 300 photos and we had to just throw them away.)