Unfiltered Story #120984

, , | Unfiltered | September 17, 2018

I worked at a major video game store where we handled a lot of used products. Including taking in products, where the law considers us a pawn shop. This was within my first three months on the job.

Me: *Having father and son walk up to my register.* “Hey guys, how can I help you today?”

Father: *In a thick accent* Yes my son would like to trade in this game.

*At this point I go through the standard procedure of looking through the cases to ensure there are discs and the quality of them. They were older games for a less popular console that were quite bad shape but we could give him something for them.*

Me:Okay so that will be $8.45 on a gift card. I just need to see a piece of ID.

Father:[Yelling] What!? I never needed to show ID last time I trade games in! I just did it!

Me: I am sorry sir, but the law states that I need a piece of ID to take the trade-in or I cannot complete the transaction.

*Now the Assistant Manager who was working beside me has asked his customer for a second while he helps me*

Manager: Sorry, but it is the law and [company] cannot take your trades without a piece of ID it’s both our company policy and the law.

Father:[Throws the ID at me] Here take the f***ing ID!

*The customer is now yelling very loudly and angrily in another language *

Manager:[Grabs the ID off the table while I stand shocked] You do not throw things at my employees, and you do not treat either myself or him with this behaviour in my store. Now get out. [He puts the ID with the games and puts them on the counter.]

Father:[Calming down slightly] Okay my friend, I am sorry my friend. [He hands me the games with the ID nicely. His son meanwhile is in tears beside him though due to him being silent this entire time I assume it is out of fear or shame.]

Me:O-okay. [I quickly write down the information we require and return the gift card, and receipt.]

[As they were leaving the store the father turned around and pulled his pants and underpants down exposing himself to not only the two of us that were working but also the customers we had in the store including multiple younger children including his own. Unluckily for him we had the entire event caught on two different cameras and had all his information off his ID. My assistant manager called the police…I don’t think they had much trouble.]

Getting To The Meat Of This Homeless Issue

, , , , , , | Hopeless | August 26, 2018

Until I met my husband — a much more jaded person than I — my attitude when encountering a street person begging was: If they need it so much they’re begging for it, then they’re in a worse position than I am, and I’ll give it to them. I don’t care if it makes me a sucker, and I don’t care what they use it for.

I will never forget one birthday with him. At my request we went to a vegan restaurant in Portland, Oregon, where I was prepared to be dazzled by the food. I am a vegetarian; he is not.

It turned out to be not all that. The food was really greasy, and I couldn’t understand why it was so freaking popular, but we boxed up the expensive leftovers to go and headed back home.

We knew there would be a lot of street people on our way home, and hatched a plan to give the leftovers away, hopefully to salvage what was left of my birthday by doing something good, at least. But we didn’t see anybody begging for food in Oregon, and when we crossed over the border back to Washington, we were keeping a watchful eye out.

Finally, on one street corner, there was an apparently homeless teenager looking for handouts. We approached him and offered him the leftovers. He looked a bit wary and sad when he said, “I’m a vegetarian.” (For anyone who’s not a vegetarian, that may sound petty; like, “Well, if you’re hungry enough, you’ll eat it!” But as a nearly lifelong vegetarian myself, I can tell you: No, we won’t.)

I couldn’t believe my luck when I heard that. I told him, “It’s from [Restaurant]. It’s vegan!” I felt like the Universe had ordained this entire incident, and in our rear-view mirror we could see him eating out of the box as he walked away.

Unfiltered Story #116513

, | Unfiltered | July 19, 2018

(We offer discounted specialty hot beverages on a certain weekday. All of those beverages have milk, and we MUST ask whether the customer would like 2% milk or skim milk in their drink. A grumpy old man comes up to order.)

Me: “Hi-”

customer: “All your drinks are a dollar?”

Me: “Just the ones on the board over there” *points to board which clearly says SMALL sized special beverages*

customer: “Give me a large.”

Me: “Sorry, you can only have a small for the one dollar drinks.”

customer (angrily): “OKAY! then give me a SMALL!”

Me (monotone): “….which beverage?”


Me (since my manager is watching) : “with regular milk or skim?”

customer: “what?”

me: *repeats*


Me: “There is milk in your hot chocolate.”


Me: ………… *glares, sighs, and punches in regular milk* “$1.05.”

Tornadoes On Aisle Four

, , , , , , , | Friendly | June 28, 2018

(I am watching a video of the aftermath of a tornado after it directly hits a [Giant Retailer]. My friend, who works at [Giant Retailer], is chatting with me over instant messenger, so I send him the video. It is important to note that he lives in South Carolina.)

Me: *jokingly* “So, what’s the [Giant Retailer] code for, ‘Oh, s***, a tornado!’?”

Friend: “I… don’t know for certain, besides the usual shelter-in-place routine, you know, finding a nice, safe, empty room or hall — with no windows or anything — to sit and put my head between my legs in. We only ever had the one thing happen not long after I started. Store-wise, though, we shut down. Everyone already in the store needs to get ready to shelter in place if the tornado actually hits; anybody trying to come in after we shut down needs to go back home, ‘cause we ain’t opening the doors until it passes… Yeah, we literally had a guy demanding to be let in for ‘one thing’ that time.”

Me: “That joke flew so far over your head, it’s somewhere between Neptune and Pluto.”

Blood Drive

, , , , , , | Related | June 20, 2018

(This happened several years ago. My father, brother, and I are on a car trip to visit my dad’s family. It’s a long trip, and at thirteen, I’ve just started getting my period. I don’t know how to use tampons, nor have I figured out that pads come in varying thicknesses. Unfortunately, I get it the day before we are meant to leave, and have been doing my best to keep things subtle, but over the course of the twelve-hour drive, I have been asking to stop at least every two hours. This happens around hour ten.)

Dad: “Look, you’re cut off from fluids. We stopped two hours ago, and we’ve only got two hours left; you’re fine. You don’t need us to stop again.”

Brother: “Yeah, what’s the matter with you? You’ve barely had anything to drink all day, and you’ve added like an hour onto the trip.”

Me: “Guys, I know it’s annoying, but please, please, can we stop soon? There’s a gas station in a few miles, and I really need us to stop.”

Dad: “You’ve been saying that all day! You can manage at least another hour, all right?”

Me: “No, seriously. I really, really can’t, okay? Please, please, please stop at the gas station, Dad.”

Brother: “God, you’re so [expletive] annoying; you’re being such a brat.”

Me: “Guys, please!

Dad: “I’m not stopping.”

Me: “Do you want bloodstains in your new car, Dad? ‘Cause that’s what’s going to happen if you don’t stop.”

(There’s a moment of quiet, and then…)

Brother: “Are you trying to threaten us into stopping?”

Me: “I’m on my period, dumba**!”

(Another long pause. Dad pulls into the exit lane.)

Brother: “Can’t you just… Hold it in a little longer?”

Me: “That’s not how that works! I’m not willingly trying to ruin my shorts! It just comes out!”

(Neither of them spoke another word until we reached the gas station. When I came out of the bathroom, they’d bought a pile of different types of chocolate for me, and asked me if I needed to stop every time we passed a rest station the rest of the way there and back. They do their best, in their own way.)

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