That Is “Pretty” Awesome, Part 2

, , , , , | Right | February 16, 2018

(While working a temporary job at a thrift store, I am usually working in the back room, sorting donations. Every so often, I’ll be called out to clean up the floor, as I am one of the few full-time workers. I am sorting the women’s plus-size section.)

Customer: “Oh, hey, could you hand me that black skirt there, right next to the jeans?”

(I oblige and hand her the hanger.)

Customer: *looks at the size tag* “Oh, no, this is too big for me. But it looks like it would fit you.”

(I am a large guy, who sometimes indulges in cross-dressing.)

Me: “Well, thank you, ma’am. Are you sure it’s my color, though?”

(I keep sorting the rack as we talk.)

Customer: *sensing that I’m not joking* “Well, of course. I bet it’d look good with that black and white top in the next row.”

Me: “That sounds like a good mix. There’s just one problem: employees aren’t allowed to purchase items. I’m not sure why.”

Customer: “Well, maybe you can find something similar at another store.”

(The conversation goes on for a little while and when I finish, I see an eight-year-old girl by the books, trying to reach up for a toy on the shelf. As I hand it to her, she asks me this:)

Little Girl: “Mister, do you dress up like a girl?”

Me: “Yes, I do, but not when I’m at work.”

Little Girl: “I bet you’re really pretty.”

(This immediately brightens my mood until her mother steps in.)

Mother: “No, he isn’t. Boys aren’t meant to be pretty. Only girls are.”

(The little girl looks at her mother, back to me, and to the customer I was helping.)

Little Girl: “Mommy’s lying. You would be very pretty! Like a… giant princess!”

Customer & Me: *laughing*

Me: “Thanks, little girl! I’m going to put that on my business card!”

Little Girl: “Okay! Bye-bye, Princess!”

Related:
That Is ‘Pretty’ Awesome

Karma Is A Dish Best Served As A Casserole

, , , , | Working | February 16, 2018

(I’m shopping in one of the local thrift stores, not really looking for anything specific, just killing time. In the very long aisle that holds kitchen and glassware, I see a nice casserole dish on the top shelf. I’m six feet tall so this is easily within my reach. As I go for it, I hear a sharp voice behind me.)

Employee: “Can’t you read the sign? It says, ‘Ask for assistance for items on the top shelf.’”

Me: “Okay, sure. I can reach it, though.”

(This man might be 5’6″, but I doubt it.)

Employee: “No, you can’t! I’ll get the ladder.”

(He walks to the end of the aisle, mumbling, and returns with a folding step stool. He makes a big deal out of unfolding it, positioning it, and then climbing onto the first step. On this step, he is still shorter than me. He does not step up to the next, larger step.)

Employee: “What is it you want up here?”

Me: “The blue casserole dish.”

(He reaches for it and knocks over a vase. He pulls the dish down, knocking over another glass item, which rolls right off the shelf and smashes onto the floor. He thrusts the dish at me.)

Employee: “I hope you’re happy.”

Me: “Oh, it has a nick in it. Never mind.”

(I set it back on the top shelf and walked away.)

Zero Points For Creativity

, , , , , | Right | February 15, 2018

(I work at a thrift store. If you use your card to make a purchase, our registers let you sign the pad using a stylus. When you press “OK,” it briefly pops up a digital copy of your signature on our screen. Two boys in their late teens purchase some sports equipment. One scribbles on the pad, and then elbows his buddy and points to the screen in a not-so-subtle fashion, snickering all the while. His buddy cracks a huge grin, as well. I already know exactly what he’s done, so when a scribbled part of male anatomy pops up in lieu of his signature, I’m prepared. Keeping my face cheerfully Retail-Friendly, I print the kid a copy of his receipt and hand it to him, which contains a copy of his “art.”)

Me: “Thank you for shopping with us! Here’s your d**k-on-a-slip!”

(The kid’s eyes went huge for a second, and then both of them fled with their items and receipt. Maybe they didn’t expect the seemingly-innocent female cashier to give as good as she got? Or maybe they figured I would never actually see it? Who knows. And no, I didn’t get in trouble for it. My manager laughed hysterically, and I got a high-five from another female cashier, who said she would do her best to remember it if another customer tried that with her.)

Couldn’t Catch The Price Match

, , , , | Right | February 12, 2018

(While cleaning up the front of the store, I come across a customer who asks me questions about a dollhouse on the floor. This particular dollhouse is one of the old-style, handmade ones and, as such, carries a pretty hefty price, even for a thrift store.)

Customer: “It’s a very nice dollhouse, and I really want to buy it. But I just don’t know. Maybe I can try [Other Thrift Store] to see if they have one cheaper.”

Me: “Well, that’s certainly an option. Though, I should warn you, [Other Thrift Store] is much smaller than ours, and there’s very little chance that it carries any of the same stock we do. Different people make different donations.”

Customer: “Well, if they have a dollhouse like it, do you have a price-match guarantee?”

Me: *raises eyebrow*

Customer: “Oh… Oh, my. I just realized how stupid that sounds. I’m used to shopping at [Big Electronic Chain Store].”

Me: “Well, I’m pretty sure that store doesn’t carry this dollhouse, either.”

Customer: “I must have sounded like one of those extreme coupon people.”

Me: “It was an honest mistake, ma’am. Would you like me to get a box for the dollhouse?”

Customer: “Oh, no, thank you. I don’t think I’ll buy it. I’m just really embarrassed about that price-match thing.”

Me: “Have a nice day, ma’am.”

I’m Not Volunteering Any Felony Information

, , , , | Right | January 19, 2018

(My friend and I are students at a Catholic high school that requires you to do at least 20 hours of community service in order to be able to pass or graduate. We’re both female, but I’m a junior while she’s a sophomore. We are currently volunteering at a donation-run thrift store.)

Customer: “Excuse me, dear. I was looking at these paintings, and this one doesn’t have a price tag. Could you tell me how much this one is supposed to cost?”

Friend: “I’m sorry, but I’m only a volunteer, so I don’t really know. However, I can go and bring an employee who will know, if you’d like.”

Customer: “It’s all right; I don’t really need this, anyway. So, you’re doing community service? How many hours do you have left to do?

Friend: “Well, all of my hours are done after my shift, and my shift ends at six. So, about three hours left to go.”

Customer: “That’s good. So, what did you do in order to have to do community service?”

Friend: “Huh? This is the community service project that all of the students at my high school have to do. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

Customer: *laughs* “Oh, honey, there’s no need to lie to me! I know that all of you teenagers who do community service do it because the courts force you to. Let me guess. You were recklessly driving?”

Friend: “Ma’am, I told you this is a community service project for my high school. I have not committed any crimes. I just want to pass my sophomore year.”

Customer: *sighs* “I don’t know why you are bothering to lie to me. Behavior like that will only make you into more of a convict than you already are. Such a shame.”

Friend: “…”

Customer: “Well, I’m going to check out now. Try to keep yourself out of more trouble, dear.”

(The customer goes to check out. Meanwhile, my friend walks up to me after I’m finished helping my customer.)

Friend: “I’m pretty sure a customer just called me a convict.”

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