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What Are You Fishing For?

, , , | Right | CREDIT: rcam_tv | October 19, 2022

I used to work at a mom-and-pop store that sold clothes, farm supplies, animals, and sporting goods. Since we sold sporting goods, we also sold bait fish. Fishermen would frequently stop by our store to buy them to fish with and they were sold by the dozen. Usually, when I scooped bait, I would give a few extra fish to my customers.

I had a lady come in to purchase bait fish, so just as I normally did, I scooped a net full of fish and started dumping them in the bag, counting them individually, and added a few extra to the bag. The lady watched me do this.

Lady: “You didn’t give me the correct amount!”

Me: “Ma’am, not only did I give you the dozen you paid for, but I gave you a few extra.”

I had literally just counted them, and I had done this for long enough that I was really good at eyeing when it was over a dozen. This lady just kept insisting that I hadn’t given her enough.

Me: “Okay, let’s count together just to be sure.”

I dumped all the fish from the bag back into the net, and we started counting together, very slowly, “One… two… three… four…” and so on. We got to twelve, and it was very clear that there were several extra fish still in the net. I looked up at her.

Me: “Ohhh, you were right. I didn’t give you the right amount.”

I then proceeded to dump the remaining fish back into the tank right in front of her and give her exactly the amount she had paid for.

She just looked bewildered when I handed the fish back to her, and she left.

I did start applying this philosophy to the customers who bought crickets.

Turning Shopping Into A Whole New Ball Game

, , , , | Right | August 27, 2022

A woman comes up to me on the shop floor. We are a huge sporting goods store and stock pretty much anything you could think of related to all sports.

Customer: “My son needs a football.”

Me: “Happy to help! Is this for American football or soccer? Also, is this for casual play, or is he in a league or competition?”

Customer: “Why does that matter?”

Me: “Well, to get the best ball for your son, I need to know if the ball needs to fit any regulations.”

Customer: “It’s American football, and he plays in a local team.”

Me: “How old is your son?”

Customer: *Angry now* “Why does that matter?!”

Me: “I need to know his age so I know if he’s in a pee-wee team, juniors, youths, high school, or college.”

Customer: “It shouldn’t be this complicated! I just need a football for my son!” *Dramatic sigh* “Ugh, he’s twelve!”

Me: “Thank you.” *Walks to the section* “These are the regulation American footballs for his age group.”

Customer: “Finally. Now I also need a football for my daughter.”

Me: “And how old is she?”

Customer: “Why does that matter?”

Banking On Some Gun Control

, , , | Right | August 19, 2022

Customer: “Can I like… buy a gun?”

Me: “We have to fill out some paperwork, but if it all checks out, then you can.”

Customer: “I don’t like paperwork. I just want the gun.”

Me: “Uh… I’m afraid the paperwork is necessary.”

Customer: “I never pass the paperwork! I was just at the bank, and they made me do the paperwork and then they said no!”

Me: “Oh. I’m sorry to hear that. Why do you want to purchase a gun?”

Customer: “To make the bank say yes!”

I calmly asked him for his number so my manager could call him to help him out. As soon as he was gone, the number (and camera footage!) was given to the police!

Look, I Get VERY Thirsty, Okay?!

, , , | Right | March 24, 2022

I am the idiot customer in this story. I’m in a sporting goods store to buy a new camping bottle, having lost the old one. I find one that’s a bit too small, so I ask the saleswoman:

Me: “This is 0.5 metres; it’s too small. I would prefer a 1.5 metre bottle.”

Saleswoman: “Metre?”

Me: “Well, it was written 0.5 on my old bottle, anyway.”

Saleswoman: “But are you sure that it was not in litres?”

Yes, it was in litres. That poor saleswoman was imagining a 1.5-metre water bottle!

Tell Them How You Really Feel

, , , , , | Right | December 14, 2021

I’m stocking when I overhear a commotion in one of the main walkways. I walk out to find one of the workers from the auto department covered in motor oil and being yelled at about his current state by a customer dressed in a suit, who is not letting him get a word in at all.

Customer: “You should be ashamed of yourself! Keeping yourself in such a state! I want to talk to your manager right now! You teenagers don’t know how to take care of yourselves at all!”

I don’t know why she called him a teenager when they are the same height and he has a beard. I step in to try and give my coworker a chance to slip away and clean himself off.

Me: “Ma’am, can I help you with anything?

Customer: “You aren’t the manager! Go get me a manager, little girl!”

She manages to stop both of us from leaving, continuing to interrupt us and yell at us. Behind her, I see the hunting desk manager come into view, immediately giving me some joy. He is well known for speaking his mind to customers due to being on the spectrum, and over the winter, he got a concussion from slipping on the driveway, and ever since he’s been sensitive to both light and loud noise.

Manager: “What’s going on here? I’m getting a headache overhearing it.”

Customer: “These workers are a disgrace! They can’t kee—”

Manager: “So, the guy covered in motor oil coming from the auto department on his way to the bathrooms is a disgrace? Holy s***, lady, the fact that you stopped him and have had him here for this long means he’s now going home to take a f****** shower. [Coworker], go home. I’ll tell your supervisor what happened.”

Customer: “I want to talk to your manager!”

Manager: “Sure thing.”

He then walks behind a rack of goods and then right back out with an evil smirk.

Manager: “Hi, I’m the hunting section supervisor. How can I help you?”

Customer: “You disrespectful b*****d! How dare yo—”

Manager: “Lady, I don’t give a d***. Please leave these two alone and go about your shopping.”

I managed to usher my oil-covered coworker away. I later got the rest of the details from the store’s manager. After I left, the lady started screaming into the hunting desk manager’s face until she left, defeated.

As for the auto department coworker, we went to the garden centre and used a hose to get as much oil off of him as possible before he walked home.