Do No Pharm

, , , | Right | December 30, 2020

I’m passing through the healthcare section of the store near the pharmacy when a customer flags me over. She’s looking at the pain relievers. The nature of my job means I can find just about any product in the store, but I don’t really know anything that requires more intimate knowledge of a product outside of my own opinions. That’s something for the department heads to answer, or the pharmacist, in this case.

Customer: “Where are your ointment creams?”

Me: “Oh, they’re in the next aisle over with the first aid stuff.”

I take her to them.

Customer: “Here they are.”

Customer: “Oh, there’s a lot. Which one is best?”

I glance over at the pharmacy, but the pharmacist is on the phone, so I decide to try and help the customer.

Me: “Uh… I guess it depends what you want it for? Like, I think this one is more an anti-itch one.”

Customer: “Hmm… What about this one? What is it for?”

I pick it up and read the label.

Me: “Uh…”

Customer: *Grabs a different one* “What about this one? Is this for infections?”

Me: “I’ve never heard of that brand before, so I couldn’t say.”

I grab what I think is the most basic one and start to read the label. It’s a popular brand, one I’ve used before, so I know it works. The label clearly says, “Helps prevent infections.”

Customer: “Is that one a good one?”

Me: *Hands it to her* “Yeah, it’s for basic first aid. It helps prevent infections and stuff.”

Customer: “Are you the pharmacist?”

Me: “No.”

Customer: “So you don’t know anything?”

Me: “Uh…”

Customer: “I’m late and you wasted my time. Where is the pharmacist?”

Me: “Over there.”

The customer stormed off to the pharmacy counter. The pharmacist was still on the phone and couldn’t attend to the customer right away. The customer started yelling that she needed to check out. I decided not to tell her that she could go to a regular register and be out sooner, especially since I think she wanted to double-check that what I found was actually a good product. When she passed me on her way out with the product I gave her, she glared at me.

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One Cent More And You Can Add Cheese To A Burger!

, , , , , , , | Working | December 30, 2020

I have just worked through a long shift, all day in a hot store while wearing a face mask. I’m hungry, we’re ten minutes from closing, and my brain more or less slips into zombie mode.

I ring up a bracelet for a customer.

Me: “That’s $3.19.”

Customer: “That’s not right. It should have been $2.90.”

Me: “Mm-hm.”

I’m out of it and don’t actually process what she’s saying. The customer pays for it but looks annoyed.

Customer: “It’s the wrong price, though! It was $2.90!”

Me: *Still out of it* “Mm-hm, have a good day ma’am.”

She left sourly. I would feel bad about this, but her item was already on clearance and an override would’ve only saved her a whopping thirty-nine cents.

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You Say Tomato, I Say Racist

, , , , | Right | December 29, 2020

My area is extremely diverse. It is impossible to go anywhere and not encounter a non-white person. As such, racism in my area tends to be very minimal, since it is very difficult to live here if you’re a racist old cow. Unfortunately, some people don’t seem to care. I’m doing my own thing when this woman comes up. She doesn’t greet me or anything; she just blurts out:

Customer: “Why are all your tomatoes Mexican? Do you not have any tomatoes grown in the US?”

Me: *Shocked* “Uh… Let me go ask the produce manager. She knows more about this than I do.”

I walk over to the produce manager, who is Hispanic.

Me: “That woman over there is wondering why all of our tomatoes are Mexican.”

Manager: “Seriously? Mexican tomatoes? Tell her to complain to the government about that. I don’t have any control over where our produce is grown. It’s about supply and demand versus cost.”

Me: “Right.”

Manager: “Actually, I might have one or two types of tomatoes grown in the US right now. Let’s see…”

She starts checking all the tomatoes.

Manager: “This one says, ‘Product of America.’ And this one is also grown in the US. Oh, this one is Canadian if she’s okay with that. But you can tell her we have some patriotic tomatoes.”

Me: “Okay… where’d she go?”

I look all over the produce department, but the woman is gone. I wonder if it’s because the produce manager is Hispanic, but I say nothing.

Manager: “That’s weird.”

Me: “Yeah. If I see her again, I’ll let her know.”

Manager: “Mexican tomatoes. They’re freaking tomatoes! Just eat them!”

I finish what I am doing and then head up front to give customer service a heads-up in case she decides to complain. The customer service manager is of Egyptian descent, but she’s mistaken for Hispanic all the time. As I’m telling her about what happened, the customer finishes up at the registers. She starts to approach the desk, but she stares at the customer service manager for a minute before leaving the store.

Customer Service Manager: “Was that her?”

Me: “Yep.”

Customer Service Manager: “I’m not even Hispanic! I hope she’s not from here. She can go back to wherever she came from.”

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Tis The Season For Unreason, Part 6

, , , , , , | Working | December 23, 2020

I work in a very Christian store though I am not Christian myself, and around the holiday season, all my coworkers say, “Merry Christmas,” to each customer that comes through. Of course, I’ve got no problem with that, but being that I don’t celebrate Christmas, I just say, “Happy holidays!” Usually, this is fine, and no one says anything about it. But one day, I’m bagging while a coworker rings up items. I hand the customer their bag.

Me: “You have a happy holiday!”

Customer: “Thanks. You, too!” *Leaves*

Coworker: “[My Name], why do you say, ‘Happy holidays,’ and not, ‘Merry Christmas’?”

I don’t want to start any kind of argument.

Me: “Um, well, New Years is coming up, too.”

Coworker: “Well… Christmas is first so you should say, ‘Merry Christmas.’

My coworker looks very smug and proud of himself.

Me: *Fed up* “You know, it is currently Chanukah, so shouldn’t we be telling the customers, ‘Happy Chanukah,’ then?”

He instantly looked uncomfortable and confused, and I took the opportunity to go on break.

Related:
Tis The Season For Unreason, Part 5
Tis The Season For Unreason, Part 4
Tis The Season For Unreason, Part 3

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You Want What You Asked For? Weirdo!

, , , , | Related | December 19, 2020

I used to work at a grocery store but got a different job and left. I’m still on good terms with everybody there, so when I go in I chat with them. The store also has a sub station that my family loves.

One evening, we’re feeling lazy, so I offer to go to the store to get subs and milk since we’re out. I place my sub order online since that’s the easiest way to make sure everyone gets what they want on their sub. My brother and I have the same base sub, but they’re on different kinds of bread and I have more toppings on mine. My dad has a completely different kind of sub but the same kind of bread as my brother.

Once I get home, I realize they gave me the wrong kind of bread on my sandwich. It’s not the end of the world, but I don’t particularly like that kind of bread. Having worked there, I know what a formal complaint does at the store level, but I also don’t want to just ignore it, so I decide to call the store and explain what happened.

Brother: “You’re really going to complain?”

Me: “Yes, they messed up my order.”

Brother: “Entitled.”

Me: “It’s not being entitled to inform them of a problem so they can be mindful in the future.”

Brother: “No, you’re being full-blown entitled. You complained to someone yesterday and you’re doing it again today!”

Me: “You mean when I ordered breakfast and my food was left off the order because of an app issue?”

Brother: “Yes!”

Me: “That’s different. That was a technical issue.”

Brother: “Don’t complain over nothing.”

Me: “They messed up my order!”

Brother: “Deal with it.”

Mom: “[Brother], imagine if they put onions on your sub. How would you feel?”

Brother: “I’d just pick them off or give it to Dad.”

Me: “What if they gave you Italian seasonings because I had Italian seasonings on mine?”

Brother: “I’d throw it away, but I wouldn’t complain.”

I walk away and call the store. The manager picks up and I explain what happened and that I’m not mad; I just want them to be more careful in the future. She says she’ll talk to them and offers me a free sub in the future.

Me: “[Manager] offered me a free sub. I probably won’t take it, to be honest.”

Brother: “Entitled.”

I tried to eat the sub as intended, but I ended up just picking out the meat and toppings and throwing away about half of the bread.

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