My seven-year-old and I will sometimes pretend to have an argument. For example, I might ask her to clean her room and she’ll dramatically sigh, “You’re the worst mother ever!”

One recent fake fight ended like this.

Me: “Go wash your face.”

Seven-Year-Old: “Never!”

Me: “Always! How did you get ketchup on your forehead, anyway? Were you trying to feed your hair?”

Seven-Year-Old: “You’re rude!”

Me: “Yeah, well, your mom’s rude!”

Seven-Year-Old: “But you— Wait, what?”

I’m the visuals coordinator for my store; basically, I’m in charge of marketing and making sure the store stays nice and displays stay filled throughout the day. I’m out on the sales floor straightening up for a good portion of my shift. I deal with customer questions on a regular basis, and I always do my best to help them with what they need. However, I’m actively discouraged from “taking sales” — i.e. getting too involved in helping a customer pick out items — as that would take away from my actual job, and it’s what the sales associates are there for anyway.

I’m refolding clothes on a display, and a woman comes up to me to ask a question.

Customer: “Excuse me. Where are your jeans?”

Me: “Oh, they’re right over there! There’s signage on the display that will tell you about all the different styles we currently offer.”

As I talk, I’m pointing to a display of all our jeans, clearly visible not twenty feet behind this woman. However, after following the direction of my pointing, she just glares back at me.

Customer: “What, you’re not even gonna walk me over there?”

Me: “I’m actually working on an important project at the moment, but if you’d like some help picking out jeans, I can call a sales associate to work with you!”

We wear walkie talkies for just such occasions. The woman just glared at me for a moment longer, huffed, and walked off in the complete opposite direction from the jeans.

Okay, lady.

I’m at a craft store to buy some yarn for a project. To my pleasant surprise, the yarn I want is on a really good sale. I was only planning to buy one skein with a coupon that’s good for one item and the others I need for the project later, but with the sale, I can get them all at once. I happily proceed to the register, but they ring up at the normal price.

Me: “The sign on the display says they’re on sale; they should be ringing up cheaper.”

Cashier: “Well, they’re not.”

Me: “But the sign says they should be [sale price], not [regular price].”

Cashier: *Literally rolling her eyes* “Yeah, I’m just sure there’s a sign that says that. They’re not on sale now. [Regular price].”

I’m mad at the implication that I’m lying.

Me: “It’s a couple of aisles from here. There’s no line; follow me.”

She does, and I emphatically point to the sign.

Me: “There it is, with the yarn brand written on it, and [sale price]. That’s the price I’m paying.”

Cashier: “Fine. I’ll have to change it manually.”

Me: “Good. Do that.”

She and I didn’t speak another word while I bought the yarn. I know some people lie, but why not err on the side of diplomacy? I wouldn’t have minded showing her the sign if she’d asked, but I did mind her attitude.

When I was in college, I picked up a part-time Christmas seasonal job working as an engraver at a shop that specializes in high-end items and the engraving that might go with it.

Traditionally, the stores were pretty small in general. Ours was tiny and we usually only had two people on staff: a salesperson and me. Normally, salespeople were trained as engravers as well and did double duty, but because it was Christmas time, they had each role hired specifically. So, I was hired as an engraver. 

As the season went on and I spent more time working, I started to pick up on the various sales stuff and it got to a point where I could do everything except process a sale just because I didn’t have the correct credentials. So, if I was waiting for an engraving job to finish, or didn’t have anything to do — a very rare occurrence — and we were swamped, I’d go help our salesperson out.

As the season went on and it got closer to the end of my time, my manager started asking me to stay. They needed to hire another full-time employee and she liked me and knew that I’d be able to do the job. I, of course, accepted.

And that’s when things went sideways. There’d been some drama brewing most of the holiday season because there was this regional who hated that my manager called her out on the stupid things she did. These were things like saying we couldn’t go home until all the engraving was done; the week before Christmas, the earliest I was leaving was usually midnight and I was staying about two hours away. She hated that and had been slowly trying to push my manager out for a while, but my manager pushed back.

Because of the fact that I was hired exclusively as an engraver, to be able to be brought on full-time, I had to reapply to the position with the regular coding. I reapplied and failed because I answered some of the questions like, “A coworker was out for two days for personal reasons and when they got back they told you they just didn’t feel like coming to work. What do you do?” incorrectly. Apparently. My manager still tried to push, saying that I knew what I was doing and they could use someone like me on staff. 

The regional pushed back and said no, that I had to wait, like, three months to be able to apply again. So, we did, and my manager literally called me the day that probation period was over to push me to apply again. I still failed, and when my manager pushed again, the regional said I wasn’t a good fit.

I went back to the store a few months later to talk to my manager for other reasons and she wasn’t there. When I asked, I got a line of, “She’s no longer with the company.” I’m pretty sure that the regional used her defense of me to push her out completely.

The next Christmas, I got a letter from the company telling me that they “hoped I’d consider joining them again for the holiday season!” I promptly threw it in the fire.

I work one summer at a local store of [Major Fast Food Company]. I work the morning shift as I have a second job in the evenings. One morning, after we have switched from breakfast to lunch, this customer comes to my register.

Customer: “Hi. I’d like [item], please.”

Me: “Certainly. Your total is $1.17.”

I turn around, grab the item and bag it, and turn back to collect his money. He gives me a $20 bill. I take it, set it across the till as we are taught to do, take out the $18.83 in change: a ten, a five, and three ones — note the order — plus eighty-three cents.

Me: “It was $1.17 and here’s your change. Eighty-three cents makes two, three, four, five, ten, and twenty.”

As I hand him his food, the customer folds the bills in half, puts the change in his front pocket, and then immediately pulls it out again. During this, I put the $20 bill under the drawer and close the till.

Customer: “Excuse me, you didn’t give me the correct change.”

He holds out the bills and shows me a one, a five, and three ones in that order.

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but I gave you the correct change.”

Customer: “No, you didn’t. You gave me a one-dollar bill instead of a ten.”

Me: “No, sir. I counted it out to you. A ten, a five, and three ones, plus the coins.”

By then, I have figured out what happened by the order of the bills. He must have had the second set of bills already in his pocket and switched them so he could scam me out of the $9 difference.

Customer: “No, you counted so fast that it looked like you gave me a ten, but you gave me a one, instead.”

Me: “Sir, if you’d like, you can give me your name and address. We’ll count out the till and if you’re right, it will be over by $9. We’ll mail the money to you.”

Customer: “No. I want my money now.”

One of the assistant managers has seen us debating and comes over.

Manager: “Hello, sir, what seems to be the problem?”

Customer: “This kid short-changed me. He gave me a one instead of a ten as part of my change. Look!”

Me: “I counted out his $18 in change. A ten, a five, and three ones. He now says I gave him a one, a five, and three ones. I offered to take his name and address and we’ll mail him the difference after we count the till.”

Manager: “No, it’s not fair to make him wait like that.”

She opened the till, took out $9, and gave it to the customer, who walked away with a happy smile and his food. She then closed the till, ran the count report, took both back to the office, and returned with a fresh till for me. She then returned to the office and counted the till. Surprise! It was $9 short.

After the store manager arrived and was told what had happened, he came to me and congratulated me for handling it correctly. I give credit to the assistant manager for not trying to blame me for her mistake. He then asked me — during the lunch rush! — to write out a description of what had happened so he could send it around to other fast food restaurants in the area.

Guess who had a discussion with the store manager about proper till procedures?

Related:
Manager, Manage! Part 4
Manager, Manage! Part 3
Manager, Manage! Part 2
Manager, Manage!