I’m training a new coworker on register when a woman comes up and places her order, business as usual. I give the woman her total, and instead of reaching into a pocket or a purse, she digs into the front of her underwear, pulling them down to the point that both my coworker and I have a clear view of her private areas, and pulls out a card.

Our card reader faces the customer, so my coworker and I don’t have to touch it to process the transaction. We finish it in complete silence, and then we see a repeat performance as the woman clearly wedges the card back into place and then goes to wait for her order.

Trainee: “Uh…”

Me: “You see some weird stuff at this job. Just be glad she didn’t try to pay cash.”

My coworker was clearly horrified, so I quickly explained that we are allowed to refuse service in a case like that, and that I just meant that it was a pain trying to delicately explain to a customer that we couldn’t take their panty-money.

I’m the opening manager. On Sundays, we open late and close early. I’m at the store a couple of hours before we open so I can get the end-of-the-week stuff done. The phone rings around nine am. I answer because it might be an associate calling out.

Me: “Thank you for calling. This is [My Name]; how can I help you?”

A male voice on the other end demands to know what time we open.

Me: “Sir, on Sundays we open at ten am and close at seven pm.”

Caller: “Well, obviously, you must be doing something wrong because your door isn’t open.”

I look at the clock, wondering if maybe I’ve lost track of time. It’s 9:15.

Me: “Sir, on Sundays we open at ten am.”

Caller: “Yeah, well, it’s f****** Saturday, so why aren’t you open yet?”

I check around me to make sure there are no hidden cameras; maybe I’m being pranked. No such luck.

Me: *Calmly* “Sir, it’s Sunday.”

Caller: *Pissed now* “You’re an idiot. It’s f****** Saturday. Today is Saturday!”

Someone in the background yells.

Background Voice: “It’s Sunday.” 

He cursed and hung up.

My associate later reported to me that a couple was hanging outside the doors banging on them and trying to get him to open them. He pointed to the store hours and then walked away. When he came back about twenty minutes later, they were gone.

Related:
We’re Closed Eight Ways From Sunday

The county I live in is reassessing the tax on something to do with our refuse program — i.e. the dumpsters we take our trash to. I live in a house owned by my in-laws, literally next door. The house was an enormous garage long ago and was later converted into a duplex. When they bought the house, it was a single-family home.

On the day before Thanksgiving, I am home preparing for my husband’s family to eat at our house. I am very pregnant and have a small child, but my husband is at work. To my knowledge, both of my in-laws are at work, as well.

A man knocks on my door.

Tax Guy: “Hi. I’m from the county tax assessment office, and we have this home listed as a duplex, but there is only one mailing address. How many families reside here?”

I notice he has a clipboard and the right seals on his truck, but I had no idea about this and am miffed to be interrupted.

Me: “Um… the what now?”

Tax Guy: “The tax on the refuse sites is being reassessed, and as this is listed as a two-family home, we must tax the home as such. Now, how many families reside here?”

Me: “Well, it’s only one family because it is a one-family dwelling.”

Tax Guy: “I need to come inside to confirm it. You have two electric meters on the side of the house.”

Me: “One of them is disabled, and the electric company has yet to remove them. I am not letting you inside right now. I don’t know anything about this, and I am in the middle of preparing for tomorrow.”

Tax Guy: “I have to take pictures to prove this to the tax office as this is listed as a duplex. If I don’t, they will assess this as a two-family home.”

Me: “Sorry, I don’t know you, and I don’t know anything about this. My in-laws own this house, so you will need to talk to them before I can let you in. They live next door. Have a good day.”

I closed the door and went back to cooking and cleaning, somewhat confused as to why he needed pictures. I later learned that he went next door; my father-in-law had stayed home and I didn’t know because his truck was in the backyard. He explained that they had submitted the necessary documents and pictures to the county and there should be no issue. My in-laws complained to the county later that having assessors knocking on doors and asking to come in to take pictures without warning might alarm some women!

I am the manager of a women’s clothing store. We have large mirrors throughout the store and in each dressing room.

A woman and her six-year-old son come into the store. While mom shops, the little boy gets bored, wanders a little, though not far from mom, and discovers the triple mirrors. He then proceeds to play with the mirrors and gets his handprints on them.

I’m not concerned because the mirrors have to be cleaned top to bottom every night.

Me: *Jokingly* “If you keep doing that, I’m going to give you the glass cleaner and make you clean those.”

His face just lights up.

Boy: “Really? Can I?”

Mother: “He loves cleaning. You should let him clean them.”

He looks so excited, I ask the mother if she is serious.

Mother: “Absolutely!”

I give the boy the paper towels and the glass cleaner, and he just goes to town. He not only cleans the mirror he’s touched, but he starts on all the other mirrors in the store, too. His mother and I are watching him while she continues to shop. I turn away to find something for her when she starts laughing. I look over, and he is climbing under the dressing room doors — they are kept locked — so he can clean those mirrors, too. He is having so much fun that his mother and I can’t help but laugh and enjoy his excitement.

A few weeks later, the boy and his mother return with his younger brother. The older boy comes right up to the counter with a hopeful expression on his face.

Boy: “Can I clean the mirrors again? My brother wants to help.”

I looked at their mother, who nodded, so I gave them the cleaner and the paper towels and off they went. The older boy was telling his younger brother how to clean the mirrors “just right.” Yes, they went under the dressing room doors, too, because that was more fun than having me unlock the doors for them.

I left that job soon after, so I don’t know if they ever came back in, but that young boy is one of my best memories from that job and still brings a smile to my face when I think about him and his mother who was smart enough to indulge his joy of cleaning.

Related:
On Reflection, Best Not To Ask…

This story is part of our Feel Good roundup for October 2020!

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Read the Feel Good roundup for October 2020!

My local dollar store has taped Xs on the floor to aid with social distancing. I am in line and standing at the appropriate distance but not precisely on the mark.

A snarky woman behind me is grumbling about how slow the three cashiers are but I guess she gets bored when no one will join in and agree so she decides to turn her attention to me. She loudly clears her throat.

Woman: “You’re supposed to stand on the X!”

I turn to see a fifty-something woman, who fits all the stereotypes of entitlement, staring daggers at me. 

Remembering a meme I saw yesterday, I prepare a response.

I look up at the ceiling and down at the X, and then take a deliberate step to my right.

Me: “Uh-uh! I’ve seen too many Roadrunner cartoons to fall for that crap!”

And just like that, the angry woman was snort-laughing. She was almost pleasant to the cashier when it was her turn. I might have been proud of myself if the joke had been from my own brain, not the Internet.

This story is part of our Best Of October 2020 roundup!

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