A Tale As Fold As Time

, , , | Right | March 12, 2019

(I am volunteering for a small thrift shop to gain work experience and get hours to graduate. This is my first time working in retail and it’s my first day. My supervisor has me folding t-shirts for the free basket. After I’ve just spent thirty minutes folding all the t-shirts and putting them neatly into the basket, two women approach me while I’m hanging scarves.)

Women #1: “Are those t-shirts free?”

Me: “Yup! Help yourself.”

(I then watch as they proceed to grab and unfold every t-shirt. They take two and leave a mess behind.)

Supervisor: *as I’m folding the shirts again* “They mess up your hard work?”

Me: “Yeah.”

Supervisor: *laughing* “Welcome to retail!”

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Doing A Disservice To Community Service

, , , | Legal | March 7, 2019

(At our thrift store, we take in people who have been court-ordered to do community service. The local court is willing to extend deadlines as long as Community Service Workers can show they’ve been making an effort. On our part, we are normally quite happy to give them a photocopy of their partially-completed hours served to show that they are, in fact, making an honest effort to get through it. Then, this woman comes in. Her stint with us is basically a battle from start to finish. She huffs and puffs and twirls her hair around her finger while telling the supervisor that she simply “doesn’t do that,” and she’s “too good to be stuck doing this.” She complains about having to sweep the floor, then pushes a broom around for three minutes before putting the broom away and claiming she did the whole store.)

Lead: “You’ve been here for four hours and you haven’t gotten a single thing done, so I’m afraid I cannot credit you for the time. I think you need to go home and think about whether doing your community service with us is right for you. There are other businesses that will help you work off your hours.”

Community Service Woman: “Whatever.”

(She leaves. The next day, the phone rings.)

Community Service Woman: “Yeah, so, I need you to send the court a completed record of my hours.”

(I get her information and find the notes.)

Me: “I’m afraid I can’t do that. You are supposed to fulfill forty hours. It says you didn’t even come in the first two days, and the third, you refused to do anything for four hours.”

Community Service Woman: “Well, I need you to send a completed copy of the form to the court, now.”

Me: “Ma’am, if you want a completed form, you have to actually do the work.”

Community Service Woman: “Well, I’m not going to do that, so what you are going to do is fill it out and sign off that I did it.”

Me: “No, I don’t think I will.”

Community Service Woman: “Listen to me very carefully. You will fill out my form, you will sign off on it, and you will send it to the court. You will do what I tell you to!”

Me: “Nope, actually, I won’t. I’m not going to lie to the courts. But I will be happy to pass you off to [Supervisor who had to deal with her before], and let you tell her what you need.”

(I put her on hold before she could say anything and gave the supervisor a summary of what she’d tried to pull with me. The supervisor answered the phone, listened, and sweetly promised to submit all the “appropriate” paperwork to the courts. She hung up and asked me to write down, as accurately as possible, my conversation with the Community Service Woman. Instead of a completed hours form, the court got a detailed report from the supervisor and me about how she tried to fudge her paperwork and bully me into lying to the court. We never saw her again, but I doubt things went well before the judge.)

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Goodwill Grass

, , , | Right | February 23, 2019

(I work as a donations attendant at a thrift store. My job is basically to accept donations from customers and to reject donations that are too damaged or that we cannot take. A lady comes in with twenty-two big black plastic bags that she says is all clothing. Since we accept all clothing, I don’t bother to rip open the bag and see what’s in it. I finish taking the bags, give her a receipt with a coupon on it, and tell her to have a good day. About an hour later I’m pushing in the cart with the twenty-two plastic bags and one falls out and rips slightly. Being curious, I decide to rip it open further and see what’s in it.)

Me: “WHAT THE F***?!”

Coworker: “What’s wrong?”

Me: “An hour ago, a lady gave me twenty-two big plastic bags that she said were full of clothes. Well, they aren’t clothes. They are all filled with GRASS CLIPPINGS!”

(My coworker about died laughing, and after throwing all the bags in the compressor I ended laughing about it, too. I don’t want to believe this lady intentionally gave me grass just to get a coupon, but HOW do you mix up your grass clippings with clothes?!)

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Working With A Slytherin

, , , , | Working | February 11, 2019

(I’m female, but not a girly-girl. I work at a thrift store. I am working my way through my in-bin, sorting donated shoes. I grab a sneaker and something inside it moves. I’ve heard stories of coworkers finding live mice inside of things before. Our area is considered to be high desert, so of course, less savory things could potentially be inside my shoes. I freeze as the light reflects off of something shiny and segmented. And it’s pretty big. For just a second, my heart seizes. Normally, insects and spiders don’t bother me too terribly much. But on the other hand, I am NOT keen on finding myself with a giant, irate, venomous creature in my collection of footwear. I hold very still for a heartbeat. Nothing moves. I carefully jostle the shoe again, and it moves again, and I get a better look. Segmented legs, but they’re plastic. I breathe again. I extract a pretty realistic toy scorpion out of the shoe. Was it some random kid’s toy that got mixed in by accident? Nope. There’s a price sticker on the bottom of this thing. OUR PRICE STICKER. From this month. I turn and walk kitty-corner across the aisle, holding the scorpion toy by the tail, to the toy processing area.)

Me: *equal parts sweet, sarcastic, and menacing, as I hold up the toy* “[Coworker], dearest… my sweet, wonderful… innocent… darling… coworker… Why was there a scorpion in one of my shoes?”

Coworker: *grins at me, mischievous* “Because I put it there. I’m surprised you didn’t squeal. I was kind of hoping for one.”

(I give him a dirty look and drop the toy into his hand.)

Me: “You’re an a**hole. And unfortunately for you, insects don’t bug me that much.”

Coworker: “I’ve got rubber snakes if you want!”

(I roll my eyes, grab an equally realistic rubber snake toy, loop it around my neck and parade off with it.)

Me: “Good luck scaring me with snakes!”

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Being Thrifty With The Obvious

, , | Right | February 9, 2019

(I work full-time at a thrift store. These conversations happen far too often:)

Customer: “Excuse me, what color tag is on sale?”

(This is most often asked while the customer is standing between two eye-level signs advertising the special of the week.)

Customer: “Hey, which way to the donation center?

(Asked while standing next to a sign pointing to the donation center.)

Customer: “Any new racks coming out?”

(Said while standing next to a rack of clothes that was brought out in the last ten seconds.)

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