Our store is having a remodel. As a result, they close the men’s restroom and remove the sign on the ladies’ restroom to make it co-ed.

The remodelling crew boards up the men’s room with plywood and then heads home for the night. The store is open until ten, so we still have customers coming in and out.

At some point this night, a male customer came in, tore the plywood off the door, and entered the restroom. Upon seeing that the restroom was unusable, did he leave and attempt usage of the co-ed restroom, or even use one of the two disabled restrooms we have?

No. This guy unboxes a brand-new toilet, places it against the wall, and proceeds to use it with no plumbing attached… or seat for that matter.

He must have really needed to go, based on how the remodelling crew overused the phrase “sprayed the wall” the next day.

I work at a casual restaurant, and we closed about ten minutes ago. A couple is still sitting in the dining room.

Me: *Handing them their check.* “Just so you know, we’re now closed, including the kitchen, so here’s the check.”

They give me a slight nod, but continue their conversation.

We close up the salad bar and drinks station, but they’re still sitting there, yapping away. 

We mop up the tiled floor, taking extra efforts to be loud and noticeable around them, but there they sat, oblivious.

We turn off the music and start vacuuming the carpet, loudly take out the trash, and, you guessed it, they sat through it all.

We turn off all the lights at every table except theirs, and they finally stir from their conversation and look around.

Customer: “Oh, are you closing?”

Manager: “Closed, actually. Half an hour ago.”

Customer: “Oh… we didn’t realise.”

Related:
Not So Closed Minded, Part 49
Not So Closed Minded, Part 48
Not So Closed Minded, Part 47
Not So Closed Minded, Part 46
Not So Closed Minded, Part 45

My boss is as southern belle as they come, and seeing stories about such fierce ladies on this site prompted me to share my own.

I work in a large clothing store. A customer is trying to return a dress, but it’s not in a resellable state. I’ve had to call my manager over.

Customer: “I don’t understand! I only got it last week, and your return policy is a whole month.”

Manager: “That’s true, but it also has to be in good condition. Hun, this thing has more stains than an old coffee mug.”

Customer: “So if I dry clean it, will you let me return it?”

Manager: “No, because I think this thing is beyond saving. Also, I need to point out that this is a ball gown, that you’re returning the Monday after the town’s largest annual ball.”

Customer: “I don’t like what you’re implying!”

Manager: “I’m not implying it. You got this dress in the knowledge that you’d be treating it like a rental.”

Customer: “Look! I shop a lot here! I spend a lot of money! My husband is a rich lawyer, and he spends a lot of money here too! We could be very good customers in the long run if you just let this happen.”

Manager: “Shush now. Those words are Louis Vuitton, but the tongue that’s sayin’ them is discount Walmart.”

Related:
These Southern Belles Need To Hang Out With The Old Scottish/Irish Women, Part 2
These Southern Belles Need To Hang Out With The Old Scottish/Irish Women

A long time ago, I worked at a company that gave me a retirement account through a specific pension provider. I eventually changed jobs to a different company that provided a retirement account through another provider. I called them to roll my old account funds into my new one.

Call Center Worker: “We can do that for you, but there is a $50 account closing fee.”

Me: “Why do you have an account closing fee?”

Call Center Worker: “That’s just our standard admin fee for closing the account.”

Me: “Okay, well then I’ll leave it open, but I’ll transfer everything except one dollar.”

Call Center Worker: “We require a $50 minimum in case you do want to close at a later date.”

Me: “Okay, fine, roll over all my funds except for $50. I’ll keep the account open.”

I tell them to send me quarterly updates in my $50 (I opt in for the paper update, sent through the mail). They invest it and make it grow, and so each quarter I get them to transfer over all but $50 of my account balance. It’s usually just a check for a few dollars, but they do it all the same. 

By this point, I’ve cost them way more than $50 of service, postage, and checks they mail to me, but I still have a few decades to retirement. Let’s see how much I can cost them before they give me my $50.

This story reminded me of something similar, but way less creepy.

A woman storms up to me at the register and launches into shouting at me as I’m serving a customer.

Customer: “There is a dead bird outside your store!”

Me: “Outside? As in, on the sidewalk?”

Customer: “I had to walk past it to get in here!”

Me: “Thanks for letting me know.”

I go back to serving my customer.

Customer: “Well?!”

Me: “Well, what, ma’am?”

Customer: “You need to go get rid of it!”

Me: “I will when I’ve finished serving customers, ma’am.”

Customer: “No! You need to do it now! What if kids see it?!”

Me: “Time for a lesson, I guess?”