The ‘Shapes’ Of Things To Come

| Melbourne, VIC, Australia | Working | March 17, 2017

(I approach the shelf of my favourite snack, which has unfortunately – and to substantial complaints from the public – changed its recipe recently. The outrage from the public has been huge, and all over the media. I figure I’ll try my luck and see if there’s any of the old recipe hidden on the shelf. I’ve been in front of the shelf for no more than five seconds when:)

Staff Member: *yelling from the opposite end of the aisle* “WE DON’T HAVE ANY!”

(I ignore it, because the voice is so far away I don’t think it could be directed at me.)

Staff Member: “WE. DON’T. HAVE. ANY!”

Me: *turning to look* “Sorry? Are you talking to me?”

Staff Member: *has now reached me and can stop yelling* “We don’t have any of the [Original Recipe], and we won’t carry them again. They’re gone for good!”

Me: “You knew what I was in this aisle for before I even touched the shelf! Have the complaints been that bad?”

Staff Member: “You have NO idea. Just whatever you do, don’t buy the new ones. They’re revolting, and you’ll come back and complain to me and demand a refund, just like everyone else!”

(At the time of writing this, the snack company has yet to revert to the old recipe. I’m so sorry, customer service staff in supermarkets everywhere. You’re the ones stuck dealing with the company’s stupid decisions!)

Sharing Parenting Advice

| Canberra, ACT, Australia | Related | March 14, 2017

(The supermarket I work at has small children’s trolleys that parents can give their kids to push around the store and put shopping in. To ensure that they are not stolen, we keep them locked together, and when a customer wants one, we unlock one for them. A customer walks up with her two children.)

Customer: “Hi, can I get one of the kid’s trolleys?”

Me: “Sure, not a problem.”

(I go over, and unlock one of the trolleys.)

Me: “Would you like two, so both your kids can have one?”

Customer: “Oh, no, that’s fine. They can share it.”

Me: *highly doubting this* “Are you sure?”

Customer: “Yeah, it’ll be fine.”

(Reluctantly, I hand the one trolley to the two kids, who IMMEDIATELY start fighting over it.)

Customer: *surprised* “Oh…”

Me: *not at all surprised* “I’ll get you another trolley, ma’am…”

Totally Hung-Over It

| Ayr, Scotland, UK | Working | March 14, 2017

(I am 19 years old and on holiday in Ayr with my family. I have a bit of a hangover (the drinking age in Scotland is 18, and I am from Scotland myself). We have gone to the supermarket to pick up some food and I go to a checkout to buy some paracetamol for my hangover headache.)

Cashier: “Can I see your ID, please?”

Me: “Sure.” *hands over my driving license*

Cashier: “I can’t sell these to you.”

Me: “Huh? Why?”

Cashier: “You’re not 25.”

Me: “So? It’s challenge 25. That means if someone looks younger than 25, they have to provide ID to prove they are old enough, which I am.”

Cashier: “No. You have to be 25 to buy these.”

Me: “Are you joking? I have a hangover from LEGALLY drinking alcohol last night. I could be married and have children LEGALLY. I can gamble and smoke if I want to. But I can’t get a god-d*** painkiller to get rid of my headache!?”

Cashier: “No. You can’t. You have to be 25. I’m not selling them to you. Leave.”

Me: “F*** this. I’ll get my dad to buy them. I can’t be f***ed with this.”

(I did have to get my dad to buy them. Still infuriates me to this day that she didn’t have a bloody clue on the challenge 25 policy. I should have asked for her manager, but I was so hungover I just wanted it to be over with.)

Has No ID-ea What They’re Talking About

| England, UK | Working | March 13, 2017

(I decided to pick up a couple of beers for the weekend with my shopping. My daughter is in tow “helping” me pack the shopping.)

Cashier: “ID.”

Me: *only half hearing her*

Cashier: “I need your ID.”

Me: *faking a smile* “Here you go.”

(She stares at the card, then at me, then at the card again…)

Cashier: “Hmm, okay. How old is she?”

Me: “Huh? Four.”

Cashier: “Okay, I will let you off this time.”

(I’m not sure how she “let me off” as I was more than old enough. Thankfully I never saw her again.)

Losing The Cashier Lottery

| England, UK | Working | March 13, 2017

(My wife has taken our three-year-old daughter out shopping. She decides to pick up a scratch card. As with most things we do, we encourage our daughter to recognise letters, number, shapes etc.)

Wife: “What number should we get?”

Daughter: “Erm, the pink one.”

Wife: “Okay, but what number is it?”

Daughter: “Number four.”

Wife: “Well done!” *to Cashier* “A number four, please.”

Cashier: “I can’t serve you.”

Wife: “Sorry, why?”

Cashier:  She isn’t old enough.

Wife: “What? She was just picking the number. The card is for me.”

Cashier: “Still can’t serve you.”

Wife: “Just get your manager for me, please.”

(The manager turns up and speaks to the cashier quietly before turning to my wife.)

Manager: *quizzically* “You wanted to buy a scratch card for your daughter?”

Wife: “No, she just picked the number; it is for me. She’s three. She wouldn’t even know if she won or not and probably couldn’t scratch the card herself.”

Manager: *sighing deeply* “I’m so sorry about this, miss; I will serve you myself.”

(Just as they were leaving I overhear…)

Manager: “What are you playing at?”

Cashier: “You told me to ask for ID.”

Manager: “She was clearly buying it for herself.”

Cashier: “But, but—”

Manager: “Just go on your break. I’ll deal with you later.”

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