This Is Ending ‘Up’ Badly

, , , , , | Right | June 18, 2017

(I’m working in a small thrift store where we sell items for generally pretty cheap when a middle-aged man walks in and starts shopping.)

Customer: *puts a jacket on the counter* “I need you to check the price of this now.”

Me: *after scanning the item* “Okay, sir, this jacket comes up to 19.99.”

Customer: “19.99? The rack says 3.99, though.”

Me: “It’s a 3.99 and up rack so the prices could vary.”

Customer: “It says 3.99, though.”

Me: “It’s a 3.99 and up rack, sir.”

Customer: *walks over and grabs five more identical jackets* “Price check these.”

Me: “These are all of the same jacket they’ll all be the same price.”

Customer: “But it says 3.99.”

Me: “It’s an ‘and-up’ rack; the prices vary.”

Customer: “So it’s now 3.99?”

Me: “No, sir.”

Customer: “Hmm, okay…” *dumps everything on the counter and walks out*

When It’s Them Having The Blonde Moment

, , , , , , | Working | June 18, 2017

(I naturally have very blond hair. It’s been this way since I was a little girl, and I’ve never dyed or bleached it or anything of the sort. I am at a locally well-known grocery store picking up a few things for dinner, and the woman behind the counter strikes up a conversation with me.)

Clerk: “I really do love working here. It’s a lot of fun.”

Me: “I bet it is. I remember applying here a few years ago, but I never really heard back from the manager after the interview.”

Clerk: “Well, that makes sense.”

Me: “What do you mean?”

Clerk: “Well, the store doesn’t generally hire anyone with unnatural hair colors.”

Me: *stares*

Clerk: *hands me my bags* “You have a wonderful day, then!”

Me: *walks away, both confused and offended*

That’s One Fabuloso Cup Of Coffee

, , , , , | Friendly | June 18, 2017

(I volunteer at the hospital in the department that my mom works in. Her job involves her mostly talking on the phone and typing on the computer. Her coworker’s desk is not too far from my mom’s and I’m putting together a chart when I overhear this. Note that this is not violating any HIPAA policies, since the woman on the phone is not a patient at that hospital, and it’s more of a personal phone call since she’s best friends with the woman’s daughter.)

Coworker: “Hey, how’s [Best Friend]? *the woman says something on the phone* “Wait, what?” *the woman then repeats herself* “You made coffee out of bleach and Fabuloso?!” *at this point, I’m all ears* “I’m going to put you on hold; I’m calling poison control.”

(She then puts her on hold and starts to call poison control. At this point, my mom is even curious.)

Mom: “Who was that?”

Coworker: “That’s [Best Friend]’s mom. Apparently she found that bucket of bleach and Fabuloso and thought it was water and decided to make coffee with it.”

Mom: “But didn’t you write ‘Do not drink’ on it? And why is she calling you and not [Best Friend]?

Coworker: “I did, but she didn’t read it and she didn’t want [Best Friend] to find out.”

(Turned out, my mom was helping her coworker and the best friend paint her mother’s house and they needed to clean the walls. Even though you’re not supposed to, they mixed bleach and Fabuloso which made it easier to clean the walls with. They placed it under the sink so they could use it again that weekend coming up and apparently the mom thought it was water. After talking to poison control, it took them a while to tell them that it was the mother who made the coffee herself and not them, and that said mother was not suicidal. Luckily it wasn’t fatal and all she had was just a headache, but she did say that was the best coffee she ever had. Yes, my mom’s coworker told her friend what happened after she called poison control and went to go check on her mother. To this day, my mom always jokes that the Fabuloso made the coffee delicioso.)

Burn Your Return

, , , , , | Right | June 18, 2017

Customer: “I would like to return these pants.”

Me: “Okay, do you have your receipt?”

Customer: “Yes, I do.” *hands the receipt to me* “I’m returning them because the girl blew her nose and picked up a receipt off the floor and didn’t wash her hands. I think they are contaminated.  They are dirty now. You need to train your employees to be sanitary.”

Me: “Aren’t you the woman who used to come in the dry cleaners I used to work at and always complain and try to get a free order? Then I went to working at [Local Drug Store] and you had issues there, too. Let me tell you something. We are sales associates who try to do our jobs and make other people happy. But you are one customer who I know well, and nothing satisfies you.”

Customer: “I want to see a manager.”

(Manager comes up to the register.)

Manager: “How may I help you?”

Customer: “This employee is back-talking me.”

Manager: *holding up the pants* “What is your reason for returning this now? Let me tell you something, miss. Every week, you are in here returning something, sometimes more than once a week.”

Customer: “Well, your sales associates are disrespectful and this item was touched by someone who didn’t wash their hands after they rang me up and they blew their nose. They also picked up a slip off the floor. I can’t shop in a store so dirty.”

Manager: “I can return the pants, but honestly, I don’t like to lose customers. In your case, however, your returns are far outweighing your purchases and we feel you are abusing our return policy. This is the last return we are processing for you. I am asking you to not come back in this store, as you’ve had a history of harassing associates.”

(The customer took the completed return and left, clearly in shock. That’s the last time I saw the Watertown Retail Bully ever around my area.)

Plastic Parenting

, , , , , | Right | June 17, 2017

(I work in a clothing store. We use sizing nubs that go on the hanger to help us organize the garments. The nubs are about the size of a dime, and very colorful. I’m working the fitting room today, and on one of the walls we have, clear, open pockets for each nub size. There’s a five-year-old girl that keeps running in and out of the women’s fitting room while her mother tries on clothing. She spots the nub organizer and reaches in to grab a handful of them. I’m afraid she’s going to put them in her mouth and choke on them.)

Me: “Oh, sweetie, no, those aren’t to play with! Can I have them back?”

(With a little persuasion, she gives me the nubs back and goes back to the fitting room. This scenario happens a number of times until her mom comes out of the dressing room. Right now she has a small handful of nubs.)

Me: “Honey, you can’t have those! You shouldn’t be playing with them!”

Customer: “Excuse me, are you telling my daughter what to do?”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but she keeps taking the nubs we use on our hangers and I’m—”

Customer: “My daughter is an angel! She can play with whatever she wants, and you can’t tell her what she can and can’t do!”

Me: “Ma’am, these nubs could potentially be dangerous for her. If she—”

Customer: “Did you not hear me?! I said she can do whatever she wants! Give her back the d*** toy!”

Me: “This isn’t a toy, and if she puts one in her mouth she could choke on it.”

(As if on vue, we hear a choking sound. The little girl has indeed put several nubs in her mouth and is choking on them. Her mother quickly bends down and hits her on the back several times before the girl spits them out. Then she stands up and dumps the handful of contaminated nubs into my hand.)

Customer: “Well, maybe if you hadn’t made them so brightly-colored, this wouldn’t have happened!”

(When I went on my break an hour later, she was ranting about me to a manager, and how I was “choking her daughter with brightly colored plastic.”)

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