Employing An Old Strategy

| Springfield, MO, USA | Right | July 29, 2017

(I’m a bagger at a checkstand next to the one where this is going on.)

Cashier: “Your total’s $19.67, sir.”

Customer: “Hey, can you help me out?”

Cashier: “What do you need?”

Customer: “Can you apply your employee discount to this?”

Cashier: “Sir, I…”

Customer: “Please, I’m doing real badly. My wife and I are living out of a motel and barely have any money, and I’d really appreciate it.”

(This is a surprisingly common sob story we hear. It’s often baloney.)

Cashier: “Sir, I cannot apply an employee discount to your purchase.”

Customer: “I don’t think you understand—”

Cashier: “Sir, we sell our items at a low markup and are an employee owned store. We don’t have an employee discount.”

(The customer gave her a $20 and left.)

Fuelling The Customer’s Entitlement

| Hythe, England, UK | Right | July 25, 2017

(We are running a promotion where if a customer spends £50 or more, they get a coupon allowing them 5p off per litre of fuel. We don’t have a petrol station, so customers have to travel to a store in the nearby town which does have one. A separate petrol station, owned by a completely different customer, is just down the road. A customer comes storming over to the customer service desk.)

Me: “How can I hel—”

Customer: “I just filled up my car and they won’t accept my coupon!”

Me: “Who won’t?”

Customer: “Down the road! I want a refund on the money I saved!”

(She hands me the coupon and her credit card receipt. Today is the last day it is valid.)

Me: “I’m sorry, madam, but they won’t accept it because they are [Different Company] and we are [Our Company]. You can only use it in our petrol stations.”

Customer: “The cashier told me I could use it at the petrol station down the road!”

(I look at her coupon. It says the cashier number who issued it. I quickly check on the computer and find it is an experienced colleague who I know would not say something like that.)

Me: “I’m sorry, madam, but there’s nothing I can do. If you had forgotten to use it at one of our stations I could refund the difference, but since you went to another company I can’t do that. Plus, this receipt just says how much you spent. It doesn’t say how many litres you used, so I wouldn’t know how much the discount was.”

Customer: “Disgusting! You will hear from me!”

(She stormed out. Later, she called the store and complained to a manager, who not only gave her £10 goodwill but told me off for not “giving her what she wanted.”)

Happy Meal

, , , , , | Related | July 25, 2017

(I am roughly five years old at the time and I am a curious child.)

Me: “Mummy, why do we buy chicken in the yellow packet and not the normal one?”

Mum: “Well, the chickens in the yellow packets were fed good food and lived in the country so they were very happy. So we only buy happy chickens.”

Me: “If they were so happy, why did we kill them?”

Mum: “Well…”

Acting Childish

| West Midlands, England, UK | Right | July 22, 2017

(I work as a shelf stacker in a supermarket, just finishing up my shift when I witness this.)

Male Customer: “Excuse me?”

Female Customer: “Yes?”

Male Customer: “Where’s your child?”

Woman With Female Customer: “I AM her child.”

Male Customer: “Funny child, aren’t you?”

(It turned out the woman had stolen the child parking space from the man who was with his young daughter at the time.)

You Darn Millennials And Your Historically-Varied Taste In Music!

, , , , , , , | Friendly | July 19, 2017

On a beautiful sunny day, as I drive into the parking lot at my local supermarket, one of my all time favourite pieces of music starts to play on the radio and so I, like most of you, crank that sucker up so that I can really enjoy it. Well, I drive around a bit, find a parking space and pull in, wait till the piece finishes then turn off my car, close the windows (handy feature of my motor; for about a minute after the engine is off the windows still work), and climb out. This is where things become fun. As I exit the car a little old lady (proper, feisty, granny mark3, iron gray bun and all) marches up to me and proceeds to give me a proper old fashioned haranguing. I’m talking a proper “you kids and your rock music, get orf moi lawn” raging while her inevitable companion (a noticeably more wrinkled granny with a walker) lurks behind her and smirks.

Now, anyone that knows me knows that I am, in many ways, an awful person and usually I’d have cut the old biddy off with some form of scathing comment, but I can’t. First, because it’s been such a long time since I’ve seen such a professionally delivered haranguing that I just couldn’t make myself break in; second, because both of these old ladies are clearly having such a great time railing at me that even a colossal ar*e-hole like myself can’t bear to spoil their fun, but mainly because of the huge, glaring elephant in the room…

You see, I hadn’t been blaring out Disturbed or Maiden or even a little Alestorm. The track that was playing when I rolled into that parking lot was Prokofiev’s Montagues and the Capulets, one of the most iconic and recognisable pieces of music ever danced to. Given that the piece was composed more than a century ago, ie. before either of these aged ladies HAD BEEN BORN, I was totally gob smacked to be told off for playing my “modern rock tunes” too loudly.

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