This Is The Last Cut  

, , , , , | Right | October 21, 2019

(We have had a customer in the store for a couple of hours trying to choose curtain fabric. I’ve spent time with her but my supervisor has decided I’ve been with her for too long and pulls me aside.)

Supervisor: “What’s taking so long with this customer?”

Me: “I can’t get away from her; she wants curtain fabric and can’t decide.”

Supervisor: “Just show her where the fabrics are and leave her to choose.”

Me: “I’ve tried that.”

Supervisor: “Well, I’ll do it, then. It’s getting late and you need to finish [assigned work] before you leave.”

(I happily leave her with the customer while I go to complete my work. I also close the doors an hour later, noticing that the supervisor is still with the customer. I finally complete my work half an hour after closing and have finalised one of our registers. I’m doing some general tidying while waiting for the supervisor and customer come to the counter with the chosen fabric. I hear the woman wondering whether her husband would like it.)

Supervisor: “I think it would be a good idea if you took a sample home for your husband to see; we don’t refund on fabrics if you change your mind.”

Customer: “No, no, he’ll like it. Now I just have to work out how much I need. You will cut it to size, won’t you?”

Supervisor: “No, sorry, we don’t. It’s company policy.”

Customer: “Oh, you can do it for me, can’t you?”

Supervisor: “Sorry, but it’s already way past our closing time and cutting to size will take too much time. We would need exact measurements, anyway; you told me that you weren’t completely sure of the window sizes.”

Customer: “I know now. My husband sent me the sizes; they’re on my phone.” *shows phone with ten different window sizes on it*

Supervisor: “No, sorry, but again, that will take too long. It’s already 45 minutes after we closed. Nor can I risk going against company policy if I cut any of the measurements wrong.”  

Customer: “Oh, well, think of the lovely overtime you both will be getting.” *looks at me and grins*

(We both look at her like deer caught in headlights.)

Supervisor: “We don’t get overtime. We get paid only to closing time, and now we still have to stay until the register is counted and finalized.”

Customer: “Oh, that can’t be right.” *looks at me*

Me: “Yes, it is.”

(The supervisor has finally measured out the fabric and is about to cut.)

Supervisor: “Now, are you sure about this measurement and fabric choice? As I mentioned, there are no returns on fabric.” 

Customer: “Yes, yes it’s fine.”

(I ring up the sale and let her know the price before any cut is made. The customer is fine with the cost and pays before finally leaving.)

Supervisor: “Oh, my God, what a time-waster. How long was she in here for?”

Me: “Four hours.”

Supervisor: “I know she’s going to try to return that fabric. It will be over my dead body.”  

(We finally complete our closing duties and leave almost an hour and a half after closing. I have the next day off, and when I get back the day after, I see a bag of fabric at the counter.)

Me: “Uh, isn’t that the fabric that annoying woman bought?”

Supervisor: “Yes. Apparently, her husband didn’t like the colour and she came back for a refund. She told [Store Manager] that I told her that she could return it if he didn’t like it. He had a go at me about it, even giving her the refund after I told him she lied. She also complained that she wasn’t told what the final cost was before it was cut.”

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It’s Mrs. Fraud!

, , , , , | Right | October 18, 2019

(This is back in the days before chip and PIN. A customer comes up to pay for her purchase with a card. I check the signature and it’s completely different, but not just different writing, a different name. I turn the card over to check the name, and it’s distinctly a man’s name, and she is an unremarkable middle-aged woman.)

Me: “This isn’t your card.”

Customer: “No, it’s my husband’s.”

Me: “Well, you can’t use it.”

(She holds up bags from half a dozen other stores and says:)

Customer: “No one else said anything.” 

(Yup, she’d spent hundreds of dollars on a card she wasn’t even pretending was hers, and no one else had noticed.)

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Her Need To Frame Innocent Men Will Go Hungry

, , , , , , | Friendly | October 14, 2019

(I do shift work. I’ve just come off a six-to-six night shift, and I stop by a popular fast food restaurant for coffee and breakfast before going home to my girlfriend. As there are two tour buses there, the dining room is quite busy, so I grab a table near the kids’ playground. I’ve just sat down and pulled out my tablet when a lady and a little boy who’s around five years old come to the table next to me.)

Little Boy: “Mummy, I’m hungry.”

Lady: “You’ll have to wait. Go play.”

Little Boy: “Okay.” *runs to the playground*

Lady: “What the h*** do you think you’re doing?”

Me: “I’m sorry, what?”

Lady: “My son saw your food and now he’s hungry.”

(I’m extremely confused, as they’ve walked past at least twenty other people eating and, you know, they’re in a restaurant.)

Me: “Umm… I’m eating breakfast. You do know you’re in a restaurant, right?”

Lady: “Don’t get smart with me, you pervert. Give me your food.”

Me: “What the h***?! Get your own!”

Lady: “No, I haven’t got any money and you’ve upset my son. Give me your food now. You’re not even eating it. The only reason you’re here is so you can perve on little kids. You paedophile.”

Me: “Why did you come to a restaurant if you don’t have any money? I’m just trying to enjoy my breakfast. Now f*** off and leave me alone.”

Lady: “Give me your food. Actually, just give me $50 or you’re in big trouble.”

Me: “Look, lady, I’ve just finished a 12-hour shift and just want to eat my food in peace. Leave me alone.”


(I’ve been coming here for over five years and the staff know me. The manager and another worker come running.)

Manager: “[My Name], what’s going on?”

Me: “This lady is–”

Lady: “This man offered my son lollies if he went with him, and then threw our food out. I want our food replaced, a refund, and him arrested.”

Manager: “Really? Let’s check the cameras, shall we?”


Manager: *to the other worker* “Call the police while I check the cameras.”

Lady: *runs to the playground, grabs her son, and takes off through the restaurant*

Manager: “What the f***?”

(I explained what had happened and the manager offered to replace my food and coffee as it was now starting to go cold. I declined and finished up eating. As I was leaving, the manager stopped me and gave me two coffees and a breakfast for my girlfriend.)

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Trying To Make A Change Is Cents-less

, , , , , , | Right | October 10, 2019

(In Australia, we have 5-, 10-, 20-, and 50-cent coins, as well as $1 and $2 coins. It’s worth noting that 10 cent and $1 coins are roughly the same size, while $2 coins are noticeably smaller and 20 cent coins are noticeably larger. Cent coins are silver, while dollar coins are gold. A customer is paying for her groceries. She has handed me her cash and starts fishing around in her coin purse for the remaining 40 cents.)

Customer: “Hang on; I’ll give you the 40 cents.”

(She hands me two $1 coins and a $2 coin.)

Me: “Sorry, this is too much. I just need the $1. You can keep the rest.”

Customer: “I thought it was 40 cents.”

Me: “That’s right.”

Customer: “Then what’s the problem? That’s 40 cents.”

Me: “No, it’s $4.”

Customer: “I don’t understand. I’ve given you two 10-cent coins and a 20-cent coin. That equals 40 cents.”

Me: “No, you’ve given me two $1 coins and one $2 coin. That equals $4.”

Customer: “I don’t understand what you’re trying to tell me. That’s 40 cents, isn’t it?”

Me: “I’m sorry, but it’s not. Here, take these.”

(I hand her back the $2 coin and one of the $1 coins. She reluctantly takes them.)

Customer: “Okay, but I still don’t understand. This is wrong.”

(I put the money in the machine and handed her her receipt. She took it, grabbed her shopping, and slowly walked away, musing over the two coins still in her hand, clearly still not understanding.)

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Going To School Makes Things Extra Confusing

, , , , , | Learning | October 4, 2019

This occurred when I was five and starting my first day of primary school. For a bit of background, my single mother had just moved to Melbourne with me and my older brother after living in a few semi-rural towns. As a result, I was pretty independent due to being allowed to explore all throughout the day (with boundaries and rules). This was the first time I had lived in a capital city. Additionally, the last town we were in had a wonderful kindergarten that was very similar to a classroom setting, so I was already pretty familiar with what school would entail.

My mother drove into the school parking lot where we could see, up a hill, all the parents and kids in a waiting area in front of the classroom; the school had individual buildings for classrooms instead of one large building. Knowing what I’m like and what I was used to, she pointed to it and said that was where I needed to go. She didn’t even pull into a parking spot; I just hopped out of the car, grabbed my bag, said bye, and went up there.

I remember standing around, seeing all these crying parents and children, and not getting what the big fuss was all about. I was more confused about why we were all just standing around and not getting started, and why all the parents were around. I don’t recall any parents approaching me, but I wonder what they thought seeing this one girl on her own looking bored while they’re trying to ready their children.

After a while, I turned my head and was incredibly surprised to see my mum standing there! I was so shocked and said, “What are you doing here?!” and she, apparently not quite getting what the big fuss what about, either, said, “Well, I saw all the other parents up here and thought I should come up here, as well.”

And while I still didn’t get what the big deal was, I was happy I got to spend a bit more time with my mum before school started. When I brought this up to her recently in my mid-20s, she said she forgot she even came up and thought she just dropped me off until I reminded her.

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