The Mother Of All Boundary Issues

, , , , | Working | August 30, 2018

(I work as a sales associate in a thrift store. One day I look over to see a customer walk into one of our fitting rooms and I suddenly remember that I have to tell her something. I walk over and open her door wide enough for me to stick my head in and talk to her. After I finish and close it back, I turn around to see my manager looking horrified. I stand there confused for a few seconds before I figure it out and quickly explain.)

Me: “Oh, no, it’s not what you think! She’s my mom!”

Manager: *looking relieved* “Oh, thank God… I was just about to have a long talk with you.”

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Don’t Lose Your Shirt Over It

, , , , | Right | August 19, 2018

(I work in a thrift store. Our policy is that we have a set price on all items within their category. For example: all children’s shirts are $2, all men’s shirt’s are $3.50, all women’s jeans are $4, etc. A man and his son come up my register with several kid’s shirts in a size large, and one shirt that is from a company that sells only adult clothing and is a size small.)

Me: “Your total today is $11.50.”

Customer: “Wait, you overcharged me for of those shirts! They’re supposed to be $2 each.”

Me: “Yes, sir, all of our children’s shirts are $2, but this one—” *removing shirt from the bag to show him* “—is an adult’s shirt, and costs $3.50.”

Customer: *starting to raise his voice* “That is not an adult shirt! Look at it! It is the exact same size as all the kid’s shirts there. My son tried it on, and it fit him, and he doesn’t wear adult sizes!”

Me: “Well, sir—” *checking labels* “—your other shirts are a size large and this is a size small, which is why they are pretty close in size. I can show you what a children’s size small looks like, for reference. Plus, the label here says [Store] and they only make adult’s clothing. I apologize for the confusion, but this does fall under our $3.50 pricing.”

Customer: “You are not going to scam me! There is no way that shirt is for an adult. I wear a size small. Do you think that shirt would fit me?!”

Me: “I’m not sure, but sizes do vary from company to company, and [Store]’s clothing does run on the smaller side.”

Customer: “It fits my kid, so it’s a kid’s size! You will not f****** lie to me and tell me that this is supposed to be for people my size!”

(The customer takes off the shirt he is wearing, gestures to his own torso, and then angrily throws his shirt at me. My manager sees this and rushes over.)

Manager: *to me* “What’s going on?”

Customer: “Your cashier is trying to scam me and sell me kid’s clothes for jacked-up prices!” *picks up the shirt in question* “Does this look like it would fit me?!”

Manager: “Sir, I cannot comment on what size clothing you wear, but that shirt is from a company that does not manufacture kid’s clothing. Also, we have a strict no shirt, no shoes, no service policy, and since you are no longer wearing a shirt, I will have to ask you to leave.”

Customer: “This is ridiculous! You’re all f****** idiots!”

(He stormed out shirtless, mumbling to himself. His son was clearly embarrassed.)

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Caller On Line Number One

, , | Right | July 25, 2018

(There are several signs posted in our store saying that there are no bathrooms for customer use. This lady comes in, apparently really needing to pee.)

Lady: “Do you have a bathroom that I can use?”

Me: “Sorry, we don’t have any bathrooms for customers.”

Lady: “You don’t have any bathrooms?”

Me: “Not for customer use, no.”

Lady: “Well, then, I’ll pee on your floor.”

Me: “That’s not an option.”

Lady: “Then let me use your bathroom.”

Me: “I can’t; we don’t have any for customers.”

Lady: “Let me talk to the manager.”

Me: “That’s me.”

Lady: “Who’s your boss? Let me talk to them.”

(I tell her that we’re owned by an organization, and tell her where their office is located in the city.)

Lady: “Let me use your phone; I’m going to call them.”

Me: “You want to call them to tell them I won’t let you use the bathroom?”

Lady: “Yes, give me your phone.”

(I gave her the phone and the number for the office, but she decided not to actually call. Apparently, she didn’t have to pee that badly, anyway, because she continued to shop for about an hour.)

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Gibberish In Neutral Becomes Nonsense In Reverse

, , , , | Right | July 6, 2018

(I work in a thrift store. It’s the day before our driver goes out to people’s houses to pick up furniture, for those who don’t have the means to donate them directly. This means that we aren’t taking furniture donations, since we’re going to be massively full tomorrow, anyway. A lady drives up to the donation door with her truck, hauling a trailer with a piece of furniture in it. She has driven past our sandwich board declaring that we can’t take furniture right now, and has walked up to the door, with a sign that says we can’t take furniture, and rung the doorbell. Then she has stood in front of the door for the few seconds it has taken me to get to the door from the sorting table I was working at. I get to the door and take a deep breath to politely decline her item, and she cuts me off before I can get a word out.)

Woman: “So, what will you give me for this?”

Me: “Uh…”

Woman: “You are a retail establishment, correct?”

Me: “We are a non-profit thrift store, ma’am, and we take donations, which we then sell, yes. The money goes to the local animal shelter.”

Woman: “Yeah, yeah. So, how much will you give me for this?”

Me: *gives it a cursory glance* “Nothing.”

Woman: “Excuse me?”

Me: *shrugs at her* “For one thing, we do not buy anything from our donors, ma’am. People donate their things. You know–” *I add, as she looks entirely blank* “–they give them to us for free.”

(She looks blank, like I just started speaking an alien language. Realizing that she is no longer “poetry in motion” but rather “gibberish in neutral,” I try to continue to another point.)

Me: “For another, we’re not accepting any furniture right now, ma’am, so we can’t give you money for it, and we can’t even take it for free right now.”

Woman: *slowly, like the speed of the words are the problem, not the content* “I don’t think you understood what I’m asking. I’m asking you how much money would you give me for this.”

Me: “I cannot give you any money, ma’am. We cannot take furniture right now. We never buy things the way a pawn shop does, and we do not sell items for consignment.”

Woman: “What. Will. YOU! Give. Me. For This.”

Me: “Nothing. I don’t want that item, thanks. Neither does the store. Here’s a list of other businesses in the area. Try them.”

Woman: “I… Well… You… FINE!” *she jumps into her car and drives off*

(There’s a pawn shop about a mile down the road. I’ve been there. It does not have a drive-thru, either.)

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It’s A Hard Back Life For Us

, , , , | Right | June 28, 2018

(I’m a cashier, and have only been one for about a week at this point. I’m out of fives and ones, so my manager is off to get me some more change for my register when this guy comes up with a few books. My manager is within twenty feet of me.)

Me: “I can help you in just a moment, sir; my manager’s bringing me more money for my register.”

Customer: *angrily* “I don’t need money; I’m paying with a card!”

Me: “Well, I need the money for anyone behind you, so if you could wait just one more moment…”

(My manager gets to me and then realizes she doesn’t have enough money to exchange for the 100 she took, so she calls up one of the assistant managers to come bring the rest. I go ahead and check this guy out. I punch in four hardbacks, one paperback, and a kid’s paperback.)

Me: “Your total is $13.56.”

Customer: *looks at the screen, looks at his books, looks at me* “There is a mistake here; the price is too high.” *getting more annoyed, he leans over my counter to look at my screen where I’ve put in his items and he points* “Too many hardbacks!”

(I double-check. Sure enough, I rang up a paperback as a hardback. I tell my manager and she voids it for me. I change it to a paperback.)

Customer: “You know, at [Grocery Chain], a mistake like that would make this free.”

Me: “Your total is $11.67, sir; debit or credit?”

(He grumbled very angrily until he left the store.)

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