Multiple Signs That This Is About To Go Bad

, , , | Right | November 30, 2017

(Out of our four registers, the third one is always card-only. This is made clear every time it opens. Sadly, this is a situation that happens far too often.)

Me: “This register is card-only.”

Customer: “What?! That should be made clear! I only have cash.”

Me: “It’s indicated by a white-and-blue arrow just above the beginning of the register, there is a sticker at the end of the conveyor belt, every bar has that same message printed on it, it is written on my cigarette dispenser, and I repeat it every few minutes to remind you. Also, the conveyer belt has been painted bright blue, with the words ‘No Cash, Only Cards’ written on it every 30 centimeters, in words and pictograms. Can we make it any more obvious?”

Customer: “It should be better indicated!”

They’re Deafening, You’re The Silence

, , , , | Working | November 30, 2017

(I am being served at the till and the cashier is putting my things through when I realise the time and I stand still.)

Cashier: “That will be [amount], miss.” *when I don’t say anything* “Miss?” *to herself, but loud enough for me to hear* “Bloody rude b****.” *some seconds later* “Excuse me, you’re holding up the line.” *she leans near me and snaps her fingers quite rudely* “Self-entitled whore.” *to the next customer* “Some people, eh? Just looking at their phones and not paying attention to anything around them. Come through; let me help you. I’m refunding her shopping.”

(The customer comes past me, a little confused. I see him look at me, seemingly concerned in case I’m sick or something. Then I snap out of it.)

Me: “Can I pay now, please?”

Cashier: *snottily* “Er, no! You should have listened to me when I said so. Now you’re going to have to pay in another queue, since I refunded your transaction.” *smiles nastily* “Have a nice day.”

Me: “It’s Armistice Day. I was honouring our fallen dead with the two-minute silence. But that doesn’t matter, since I’m never coming here again.”

(I filed a complaint. I have never been back.)


, , , , , | Right | November 30, 2017

Customer: “How old are you?”

Me: “Sorry?”

Customer: “How old are you? You couldn’t be more than 25.”

Me: “I’m 22; why?”

Customer: “If you are 22, then why are you wearing a watch?”

Me: “Because I like my watch.”

Customer: *rolls his eyes* “Oh, are you one of those stupid hipsters who thinks you’re too good to look at your phone, or something? Seriously, they shouldn’t hire hipsters.”

Me: “Sir, I wear this watch because it was given to me by somebody I care about. I don’t see how wearing a watch is an issue.”

Customer: “I’m sick of hipsters thinking they’re better than everybody else. If you’re not a hipster, then tell people.”

(After customer leaves.)

Customer #2: “Did you really just get in trouble for wearing a watch?”

Me: “I think so.”

Customer #2: “I wonder what he would say if he saw my brother’s pocket watch.”

A Sickening List Of Ingredients

, , , , , , , , | Related | November 29, 2017

(My mum and I work and live together, and we’ve swung by the local supermarket to pick up some things. My day has been awful, so I go around picking things up for myself. I meet up again with my mum before checking out.)

Mum: “Milkshake and cream dessert? You’re not allowed dairy! You’ll get sick!”

Me: “Tobacco and wine? You’ve got half a working lung! You are sick!”

Mum: *pauses* “Touché.”

(No, neither of us put anything back.)

Can’t Vouch(er) For Your Education

, , , , , | Right | November 28, 2017

(I’m waiting in line behind a customer being served. She presents two sale vouchers to the cashier.)

Cashier: “Are you certain you would like to use these? It will cost more if—”

Customer: “I’ve already done the counting and double-checked. I know exactly what it will cost me. You people don’t know how to do maths; you let the machines do it for you.”

(The customer then goes on a tirade about how she is an Oxford graduate and how the cashier is potentially the stupidest person on the planet. She then goes through each item she is buying, applying the discounts the vouchers offer. The cashier, all the while, stands with the straightest face I’ve ever seen. After the customer finishes, she shrugs her shoulders and applies the vouchers.)

Cashier: “£69.40, please.”

Customer: “What? No. You did it wrong. It’s supposed to be £45.90. Here; I’ll go through it again, and keep up this time. You—”

Cashier: “I think it would be kinder to everyone else waiting if I simply draw your attention to the disclaimer at the bottom of the vouchers.”

Customer: “I read the entire thing, front and back.”

Cashier: “Clearly, reading isn’t your strong point, because in order to put these vouchers through, I had to cancel the sale prices and put everything through at full price.”

Customer: “No, you’re wrong. You see, I’m an Oxford graduate, and—”

Cashier: “I graduated with a doctorate from Oxford three years ago, so your credentials mean absolutely nothing, as far as I’m concerned.”

Customer: “You lying b****! If you’re from Oxford, why are you working in a shop?”

Cashier: “That’s certainly none of your business, but if it gets you out of here sooner: my mum owns the store, and I’m helping out while she has surgery.”

(With nothing else to go on, the customer stands there for a few seconds before running out of the building.)

Cashier: “Miss, please don’t forget your vouchers!”

(She didn’t turn back.)

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