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?”

customer: I DONT KNOW.. WHATEVER! A HOT CHOCOLATE!

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

customer: “what?”

me: *repeats*

customer: “I DON’T WANT MILK. I WANT A HOT. CHOCOLATE.”

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

customer: ” I DONT F***KING WANT MILK. ARE YOU DEAF? I WANT HOT CHOCOLATE, NOT MILK.”

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.)

Pokémon Go After Him!

, , , , , , | Right | June 19, 2018

(I work alone most days, as it’s a small store and the start of the work week is usually pretty slow. I’m also a fairly short woman at 5’3″ and come across as pretty meek. I’m currently working on a stock reorder, when a man I’ve never seen before comes into my empty store.)

Me: “Hi there! Anything I can help you find today?”

Customer #1: “Do you guys sell Pokémon cards?”

Me: “No, sorry. We don’t carry them.”

Customer #1: “Do you buy cards?”

Me: “No, we don’t, but [Other Store] does. It’s what they’re known for, actually. Is there anything else I can help you with, though?”

(A married couple comes through the door and starts looking at the shelves of chess sets next to it. [Customer #1] gives a quick look over his shoulder and shakes his head.)

Customer #1: “That’s fine. I’ll just look around.”

(He then moves further into the store towards the rack we keep our card sleeves on, so I assume that he’s interested in finding something for his card collection. I greet the new customers and inform them that if they need anything they just have to ask, but they’re pretty content and continue to look over the games there while I go back to my previous task. Two minutes later, I can hear this strange rustling just to the side of me behind the counter.)

Me: *to myself* “That sounds like wrapping paper. What the…?”

(That’s when I see something moving out of the corner of my eye, and turn just in time to see [Customer #1]’s arm pulling back around the corner of the counter with a sealed box of an expensive and popular card game that we store under the gift wrapping, some of which was hanging over the lip of its shelf and had brushed against his arm while he was reaching inside. I immediately go after the guy as he shoves the whole box into the front of his hoodie.)

Me: *in a surprisingly loud and stern voice* “EXCUSE ME?! Give that back to me, right NOW!”

Customer #1: *barely looks at me as he starts to run for the door, with the box clearly outlined on his stomach* “What?! I didn’t take anything!”

(The guy is at least a foot taller than me and is built like a linebacker, so even while I’m running after him, I’m thinking to myself, “Just what am I going to do if I catch him?” As he hits the door to shove it open, though, the husband’s arm snaps out and grabs the thief’s arm before anyone even realizes what he’s doing, and they both go tumbling out into the street with the wife and me close behind.)

Customer #1: *struggles to pull himself free of the arm-lock he’s suddenly found himself in while the other man holds on to him tightly* “Let go! You can’t do this!”

Me: “Give me back the d*** box!”

Customer #1: “I didn’t take anything!”

Me: “I can see it!”

(I start to reach for the box, ready to rip his hoodie open on the spot, even as a crowd gathers around to see what all the noise is about.)

Customer #1: “Fine! Whatever!” *scowls at me as he opens his jacket and hands the box back* “Now let go!”

(With that, he finally pulls his arm free and stomps off through the crowd before any of us can say anything about it.)

Wife: *to her husband, clearly worried about him* “My God! What were you thinking?!”

Husband: *gives a small shrug as he watches the other man storm away with a look of surprise* “I wasn’t. I just did it… He’s really big, huh?”

(Though not as short as me, this gentleman is still a good three or four inches shorter and 75 pounds or more lighter than the guy he nabbed at the door.)

Me: “Thank you so much! I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t have grabbed him when you did!”

Husband: “Ye-yeah. I’m really surprised I did, too.”

(He chuckles a bit as he becomes more aware of just how badly things could have turned, then hugs his wife.)

Husband: *in a joking tone* “I don’t suppose there’s a dumb heroics discount, huh?”

Me: *completely serious* “Yes. Yes, there is, sir. What can I get for you?”

Eye See Death

, , , , , | | Healthy | May 21, 2018

(A customer and her husband have walked in and I go over to help them find some glasses. During our conversation, I ask the wife if they’ve seen an optometrist, as we have one on staff that accepts walk-ins.)

Customer: “Yes, we’ve already seen an optometrist. Several, actually. It took us a long time to find one that we like.”

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. I’m glad that you found one that you liked.”

Customer: “Yes, they were all so awful. One was so bad that we had to report him to the Board of Optometrists!”

(I usually avoid getting into the politics and gossip regarding other optometrists, so I try to keep my response vague. The wife seems to be getting more agitated the more she talks about it.)

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry to hear about that.”

Customer: “Well, I heard he’s dead now, anyway, so that’s good!”

Me: “Wow… That’s actually really horrible.”

Customer: “Oh. I guess I shouldn’t say things like that, should I?”

(The customer shrugged and turned to ask her husband a question, completely unfazed. I’ve worked all kinds of retail over 15 years now, and I’ve never heard something so awful come out of someone’s mouth before. I left them alone to look and never helped the couple again.)


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