Unfiltered Story #209834

, , , | Unfiltered | October 2, 2020

(I’m a cashier, ringing up an older gentleman. One of his purchases is a pair of high heel shoes. I don’t think much of it as I ring them up, figuring they were for his wife or something.)
Customer: My niece is visiting this weekend. Those shoes are for her.
Me: Alright.
Customer: She’s a whore.
(I honestly had no idea how to respond to that, so I quickly finished the transaction to get him moving along.)

Unfiltered Story #209820

, , | Unfiltered | October 1, 2020

(I work in a nation-wide chain of pet stores, which bears a resemblance to an unaffiliated competitor. Pet food brands will sometimes sign contracts with either of our stores so that NO company off contract can sell that brand. This has happened to me no less than twenty times over four years.)

Me: Hi there, are you finding everything you need today?
Customer: No, I’m looking for your [brand we cannot carry]. It’s always right here but you’ve moved it.
Me: Oh, I’m sorry, but we’ve actually never carried that brand. It’s contracted with [our competitor.] There are three near town I can direct you to.
Customer: No, no, no, no! I’ve been buying it here twice a month for ten years! It’s always RIGHT HERE and you’ve moved it!
Me: Again, I’m very sorry, but I think you’re mistaking our store for [competitor]. Their company colors are the same and the names are very similar, so I know it’s easy to get us mixed up, but I know for certain that we legally cannot carry that brand.
Customer: Fine, if you’re out of stock I’ll just come back later this week when you do have it. You’d better have it this Friday!
Me: I’m sorry, but we do not carry that brand, so I can tell you for certain we will not have it. Can I at least call [competitor] to verify they have it for you? I’d hate for you to have to suddenly switch your dog’s diet, and the closest store is just one exit north of us.
Customer: *Huffing and rolling her eyes like I’m an idiot.* FINE, call them, but I bet you they don’t have it.

(Of course, they did have it. This is honestly a routine problem and it makes me scared how many fabricated memories I might have if so many customers believe they’ve been shopping at the wrong store for years… Only one of these customers ever admitted to their error and apologized.)

Onto Every Sandwich, Some Judgement Must Fall

, , , , , , , | Working | September 30, 2020

Homeless Guy: “Spare some change?”

Me: “Sorry, I don’t carry cash.”

Homeless Guy: “What about food, then?”

Me: “Well, I was about to go to the sub shop across the street.”

The homeless guy gives a long, complicated order about a specific sandwich.

Me: “I can’t remember all that.”

Instead, I gesture toward the shop.

Homeless Guy: “Are you inviting me?”

I gesture again and he gets up.

We get in there and he repeats the oddly specific order, but even more specific this time.

Homeless Guy: *To me* “Can I get extra meat on that?”

Me: “Sure.”

Homeless Guy: *To the clerk* “Extra meat, too, please.”

Then, he turns back to me.

Homeless Guy: “May I please get a bag of chips?”

Me: “Normally, I’d say yes, but it’s toward the end of the month and I’m on a fixed income, so I only have just enough money to buy two sandwiches.”

Homeless Guy: “No problem. I understand. Thank you so much for the sandwich.”

He gets his sandwich, starts eating the first six inches, and then rewraps the last six inches and goes out the door.

Meanwhile, the clerk is making my sandwich. The homeless guy has already left the shop. After the clerk is done:

Clerk: “I know it’s none of my business, and your heart is in the right place, but the homeless people here eat better than I do. This is his third sandwich today.”

Me: “Him specifically? Three times, today?”

Clerk: “Well… there were a lot of homeless people being fed, and I don’t know if he, specifically, actually had three sandwiches.”

Me: “Okay, then don’t make accusations. I have a couple of good friends who either used to be or are currently homeless.”

He hands me my sandwich.

Clerk: “That’ll be $5.48, unless you want drinks. Do you?”

I think quickly about this. That price is for a single footlong, which means he is not charging me for the homeless guy’s food, so I now have a surplus of money in my account.

Me: “Yes, thank you. I’ll have one of this size.”

And I pointed to the smallest paper cup they had. I wanted to get out of there before he realized he hadn’t charged me for the homeless guy’s sandwich, so I sat at a booth out of his sight and ate my sandwich really quickly, drank my soda, got a free refill, and left.

In retrospect, and after relaying the story to one of the aforementioned formerly homeless friends of mine, I’m wondering if what happened was that I unintentionally guilt-tripped the clerk and he deliberately “forgot” to charge me for the homeless guy’s sandwich.

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The Continuing Adventures Of Sir Reginald Von Rufflebuttum

, , , , , | Right | September 28, 2020

A coworker of mine is cleaning the reptile habitats in the store. He notices one of the chameleons is starting to get a little big for its habitat, but there’s not much we can do to make it more comfortable as it grows.

Instead, he decides to give it a chance to stretch its legs a little, taking it out of the terrarium and letting it climb around his shirt as he goes about his duties.

I’m on the register and don’t usually get to interact with the animals, so I ask if I can hold it for a while. He brings it over and I let it climb onto my hand.

As I’m letting it crawl along my arms and hands, a woman comes up to check out. I manage to get a hand free to ring her items up, and the chameleon starts climbing across my chest.

I make a comment to my coworker about how the chameleon’s enjoying being able to explore a little, and the woman laughs.

Customer: “He’s thinking, ‘Look at these mountains’!”

We all started laughing. I tried to keep from shaking too much, as the chameleon was, indeed, on my breasts.

The chameleon continued to crawl all over me, and at one point, I needed to transfer it from one hand to the other again, but this time it decides it was perfectly comfortable half on one hand, half on the other.

It had a pretty good grip on both hands, and I didn’t want to risk pulling away too hard, lest I injure it, so I wound up sitting for a minute with no hands, and we all started laughing again.

Eventually, it decided which hand it wanted to be on, and I passed it back to my coworker so I could finish ringing the woman up. Definitely one of the most memorable encounters I’ve had at this job.

The Epic Saga Of Sir Reginald Von Rufflebuttum

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She’s Allergic To Calming The F*** Down

, , , | Right | September 25, 2020

My boss owns several popular sandwich franchise stores. He recently decided to buy a store from an owner being kicked out of the franchise. As a result of the forced sale, the former owner gave up on customer service, fired all his staff, and left the restaurant an absolute mess for us to deal with.

On our first day there, I get in early to clean and organize. We have been open for thirty minutes when a car screeches up to our storefront and an angry lady comes stomping inside, brandishing one of our sandwiches. 

Angry Lady: “I’d like to speak to your manager!”

Me: “I’m the manager, ma’am. How can I help you?”

Angry Lady: “My husband came in an hour ago to pick up my lunch. He asked for no mustard! I’m allergic to mustard!”

She slams the sub on the counter and opens it to reveal the bright yellow mustard coating the sub. 

Me: “I’m terribly sorry for the mistake, ma’am. I’m glad you noticed before you bit into it. May I have your receipt so I can refund you? Then I’ll remake your food with no mustard.”

Angry Lady: “I don’t have the receipt. I told you. My husband bought it for me an hour ago.”

Me: “That’s okay, ma’am. We haven’t been open long and have only had a few customers. I can look it up manually.”

I check the transactions from that day. No one has purchased a ham sandwich that day. Because we just bought the store, the computer displays only today’s transactions, as the previous transactions were on the old owner’s account. Any refunds must be made from him, not us.

Me: “Ma’am, is it possible your husband purchased this yesterday? I’m not seeing any sales today that match your order.”

Angry Lady:No! He bought it today! An hour ago!”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am. We haven’t been open more than a half an hour. Are you sure it was from this location?”

Angry Lady:Yes! It was here! We only come here! I don’t know why we keep coming back. You people always mess up our orders and give us such terrible service!”

She is already yelling very loudly; the customers in the lobby are beginning to stare and my coworker has poked his head out of the kitchen to see what’s going on. I’m a bit hurt that the blame of the old staff and owner is being put on me, but I’m determined not to let it show. 

Me: “I’m sorry you had a bad experience with this location before. We are under new management, as of today; and I will do my best to fix—”

Angry Lady: “You had better give me my money back!”

Me: “I will do my best, ma’am. If your husband bought this yesterday, I cannot refund—”

Angry Lady: *Screaming* “It wasn’t yesterday. It was today! Refund! Right now!”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but no one has made a purchase today that matches your order, especially no orders with food allergy requests. The best I can do is put you in touch with the old owner, in case the order was on his account yesterday. I will make you a new sub right now, free of charge, for your trouble.”

I start making a sub identical to the one she returned, minus the mustard. I just want her gone. She starts pacing the counter and angrily muttering. 

Angry Lady: “I can’t believe you won’t refund me! I could have died! If I hadn’t noticed the mustard, I would be on my way to the hospital right now!”

Me: “As I said, ma’am, no one has purchased a ham sandwich today. I can’t refund what we haven’t charged you. And I am replacing your sandwich for free.”

She slams her hand against the glass and screams.

Angry Lady: “THAT’S NOT GOOD ENOUGH! You are just the rudest little s***! I want to speak to your store owner! I’m going to get you fired! Every time I come in here, you give me attitude. And now you don’t want to refund me after you almost poisoned me!

Me: “Ma’am, I’ve never met you before! We just—”

Angry Lady: “I make my husband come in for me now, because I don’t want to deal with you! And he’s told me you’re always rude to him, too. You’re not getting away with it this time! I’m gonna get you f****** fired! And I’m going to sue you for trying to kill me by poisoning my sandwich with mustard! I bet you did it on purpose!”

She is literally screaming at the top of her lungs. I was angry before, but now, I lose it. I slam her half-finished sandwich onto the counter. 

Me: “Listen, lady! I have never seen you before. This is my first day here! We just bought the store! I don’t know who you are, or why you are so rude. I am doing my best to try to help you, but you are blaming me for things that I have not done! You need to get out of my store right now!”

Angry Lady:Liar! I know your face! You deal with us all the time! I bet you recognized my husband and intentionally put mustard on my food because you knew I was allergic!”

Me: “Lady, we make the subs right in front of you! How could I put mustard on it without your husband noticing?! Get out of my store!”

She begins a string of profanities about how terrible we are and how we all want her dead by poisoning her. She even accuses the kitchen staff of hiding mustard on the ham before we put it in the sub to trick her husband. 

Me: “Lady, if you’re as rude to your husband as you’ve just been to me, I wouldn’t be surprised if he asked for the mustard on your sandwich himself!

The angry lady stopped, sputtered, and then turned and stomped out the door. When I told my boss about it later, he almost died laughing and told me not to worry about her. We never heard from her or her husband again.

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