Would Have Been Prudent To Look That Up Before Asking

| Washington, DC, USA | Right | November 28, 2016

(The customer in front of me is paying for her groceries and notices the cashier’s name tag.)

Customer: “Oh, ‘Prudence,’ what a lovely name!”

Cashier: “Thank you, ma’am.”

Customer: “What does it mean?”

Cashier: “It means ‘wisdom’ or ‘good judgment.’”

Customer: “Wonderful! And what language is it?”

Cashier: “Umm… English.”

Security Has A Lot Of Baggage About Baggage

| Devon, England, UK | Working | November 26, 2016

(My husband and I, who are in our early 20s, are quickly going to our nearest supermarket for a few essentials, something we do fairly often as the supermarket is only a ten minute walk away so it’s quite convenient. Just as we’re about to walk in, a security guard appears at the door.)

Security Guard: “Sorry, you can’t come in.”

Me: *confused* “Sorry, why not?” *checks watch* “You’re not closing for another two hours.”

Security Guard: *points at my husband’s backpack* “He’s got a bag; you can’t come in with your own bag.”

Me: “I have a bag, too.” *I gesture to my handbag* “It’s how I carry my purse, so I can pay for the shopping I’m about to do. My husband carries his things in his bag, and we actually put a lot of our shopping in his bag, so we’re not using plastic carrier bags. It’s never been a problem here, or in other shops.”

Security Guard: “You can’t come in if you have a bag with you.”

(At this point I notice other shoppers inside with their own bags, and I can’t be bothered to continue with this security guard.)

Me: “You know what? That’s fine. I’d rather shop somewhere where I’m not pre-judged before I even set foot inside.”

(We shopped elsewhere from then on, and I never heard anything from anyone I knew about not being allowed into a shop with your own bag.)

Extra Closed-Minded Management

| NJ, USA | Working | November 25, 2016

(It is about nine pm on Black Friday. Realizing I am going to need some things for the morning I take a spin around to the big chain supermarket a couple blocks from my house. When I get there, the lot is near-empty and both sets of entry doors are locked, but all the lights are on in the store. Considering the entire front wall is a row of windows, I clearly saw a couple dozen people meandering around still shopping, workers at the register, etc. A little confused, I get out my cell phone and call them up, knowing it’s answered by the Customer Service desk which I can see from the entryway.)

Customer Service: “Hello, thank you for calling [Store]. How may I help you?”

Me: “Yeah, I was wondering what time you were open till tonight?”

Customer Service: “We’ll be open for about another hour, sir.”

Me: “Really? Because I’m standing at your entrance and both sets of doors are locked.”

(The lady did a double-take to where I was standing, a big smile on as I waved at her. I hear her yelp over the phone before dropping it and trotting over to unlock the door, which sets me off laughing.)

Customer Service: “I’m so sorry about that, sir! I don’t know why they were locked!”

Me: “Don’t worry about it. It was probably just a—”

Manager: “[Customer Service]! What are you doing?!”

(We both spin around in shock to see an extremely pissed-off manager storming up.)

Customer Service: “Oh, I was just letting a guest in. Someone locked both sets of doors instead—”

Manager: “I know! I did!”

Me: “Wait, what? You completely locked up?”

Manager: “Of course! We’ve been open since two hours earlier than usual. I’m not staying open just to let a couple stragglers in!”

Me: “Were you specifically here since seven this morning?”

Manager: “Of course not.”

Me: “Then quit your b****in’ and let me go buy some eggs and milk for the morning.”

Manager: “You don’t know what kind of shape this store is in. We’ll be here another two hours just cleaning up!”

(I did eventually get all the way into the store. It was no worse than on any given “slightly busier than normal” day. Needless to say, the next day I called back, talked to the morning manager, and put in a complaint.)

Not A Big Fan Of Labels

| Manchester, England, UK | Right | November 21, 2016

(It’s quite a quiet day with just a steady trickle of customers. It’s all nice and quiet until a woman approaches me with her little basket full of goodies. She seems the typical “I’m too good to be shopping here” customer, but I remain pleasant as always. I scan her items through, and reach a couple of tins of beans.)

Customer: “Check that they’re two tins for £1.50.”

(I scan them through.)

Me: “Sorry. They’re [price] each.”

Customer: “No. It said on the shelf that there were two for £1.50!”

(Usually I call another member of staff from the floor to check prices, but it is quiet and the tinned food aisle isn’t too far away. I go and check it myself. I find a sign clearly stating that only one variety of beans are in the deal. The sort she picked up was next to them, with their own clear label. I take the labels off the shelf and take them back to the woman at the till. I show them to her.)

Me: “Sorry about the wait. I checked, and unfortunately it is only the [Brand #1] beans which are in the deal; these are [Brand #2], so they’re [price].”

Customer: *in a condescending tone* “Well, yes, the labels would say that now, wouldn’t they! I won’t take them.”

(I rung her up and waved her on her way. I didn’t point out that I did not have a label printer concealed down my t-shirt just to fix prices of baked beans…)

Caught In A Sherry Trifle

| Yorkshire, England, UK | Working | November 13, 2016

(I go to the supermarket to get sherry for my mum. There’s a big overhead sign in one of the alcohol aisles saying something like ‘Spirits, Sherry, Liqueur.’ I look up and down the aisle for the sherry, but can’t find it anywhere, and I don’t know what the bottles look like. I stop an assistant on his way past the aisle.)

Me: “Hi, could you help me, please? I’m looking for sherry, but I can’t find where it is on this aisle.”

Assistant: *points at sign*

Me: “I know it’s on this aisle, but I can’t find whereabouts on the shelves it is.”

Assistant: “It’s on this shelf.” *points at shelf in general, with is at least 20ft long*

Me: “Yes, but whereabouts? I’ve been looking on this shelf for several minutes, but I haven’t found it. I can see the whisky, brandy, liqueurs and stuff… but no sherry.”

Assistant: “It’s on the sign. It’s on this aisle. Why do customers always ask me things like this?” *points at sign* “Sherry! Right there. Sherry.”

(I walked off to the end of the aisle and decided to look at every bottle until I found it. Eventually I did, at the other end of the aisle, and there was only a few bottles of it there. I made a mental note of what the sherry bottles look like in case something like this happens again.)

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