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For Those Wondering How To Get On A “Do Not Rent” List

, , , , | Right | CREDIT: BecentiComposer | December 13, 2021

I work at a [Motel Chain] which is franchised and owned by a guy who owns around 75% of [Motel Chain]s in our state, as well as inns and hotels in other chains in this state and several neighboring states. Our policy is to take credit cards and cash WITHOUT a security deposit. That might change after this, and I hope so; that policy is insane. I don’t know how you can own that many hotels and not realize what a disaster policy it is to not take a security deposit with cash payments, especially considering the brands he owns.

We still have our health crisis policies in place concerning the number of people per room. For our two-bed rooms, it’s four people, with an exception for families and their kids. Also, housekeepers will not enter stayover rooms, so we have linens, towels, etc., at the desk.

For the past week or so, we’ve had some sketchy people check into a variety of rooms on various days. I’ve noticed that one particular room has been having heavy traffic. For our area, that normally means drugs.

I keep an eye on that room throughout the week and notice that there are five other rooms that the people in that room seem to be familiar with. I see them meeting in the parking lot, exchanging packages, and going in and out of each other’s rooms, etc. I inform my general manager and the other shifts, and I keep my eyes on those rooms through the week. They aren’t doing anything overt and are generally staying within our rules except for a noise complaint here and there.

About two days before they check out, I notice an increase in people on bikes coming and going from those rooms with backpacks, so I’m certain drugs are involved. But, as I said, they are keeping within our rules and we’ve been pretty lax about the occupancy cap, so I just note what’s happening.

They check out en masse, and I come in that day and my boss is fuming.

Boss: “That room you noticed? Room [number]? They broke the toilet.”

Me: “The handle? The seat?”

Boss: “No, they broke the entire toilet in half.

Me: “How?!”

Boss: “No idea. The toilet tank cover was shattered in the shower, too. I don’t know how they did that, either. Their headboards were busted off the wall, and we had water leak into three adjoining rooms and damage them. Luckily, those weren’t occupied. Two of the other rooms did some tattooing, and they spilled ink all over the floor and on the beds, so now those linens are trash and we can’t rent those rooms out until the flooring is replaced. One of the rooms had lines of coke ready to go and they apparently just left it? One of the other rooms had… maybe hair dye… on the beds and towels, so those are trash now. And the rooms were just trashed — like multiple days of food containers stacked around the trash can, trashed so those rooms cannot be rented until we can bomb and air them out. And, of course, they smoked in all of them.”

My boss calls the owner and he blows up on her.

Owner: “Why are you renting to people like that?!”

Like we can tell.

Owner: “Did you get payment for the damage?”

Boss: “No, they paid in cash.”

He flips out, and she reminds him of his policy, which sort of shuts him up. I walk in just as she is hanging up.

Me: “I just checked the stay history of the guy who booked the room, and he did have a card on file for one of those days.”

Boss: “Run it for $500 for damages.”

Surprisingly, it goes through, so that cheers her up a bit.

A bit later on my shift, the guy calls me screaming.

Guy: “Why did you charge my card?!”

Me: *Calmly* “It’s for room damages.”

Guy: “WHAT DAMAGES?!”

Me: “The documented damage from the room, which we are reporting to the police in addition to the cocaine in one of the rooms that we have you on tape going in and out of.”

He hung up on me and hasn’t called back. Of course, we didn’t report anything to the police, but we did document everything.

The next day, one of the people from those rooms tried to check back in, and my boss said nope, but she pretended to in order to get their ID for the Do Not Rent list. Needless to say, all the guests from those rooms are also perma-DNR.

Don’t Discount The Customer’s Ability To Discount, Part 20

, , , | Right | December 12, 2021

A guy comes into the store, yelling, handing in a game for a trade-in.

Customer: “My sister is a store manager and I get a discount!”

He’s very clearly not sober, but I’m not sure what he’s on.

Me: “Do you have her employee number?”

Customer: “No!”

Me: “I will not be giving you a discount, sir.”

Customer: “Why the f*** not?!”

Me: “Aside from not having her employee number, also she isn’t here.”

I know for a fact she quit her senior manager job a couple of years ago and then came back as an entry-level part-timer. We complete the trade-in but then he later comes back in SCREAMING.

Customer: “You didn’t give me the employee discount! And the game you sold me was filthy!”

Me: “Sir, I disinfected it with gloves on when I took the trade-in.”

He threw the game disc at my store manager, who had just clocked in, and yelled at him to clean it. We did not and we made him leave!

Related:
Don’t Discount The Customer’s Ability To Discount, Part 19
Don’t Discount The Customer’s Ability To Discount, Part 18
Don’t Discount The Customer’s Ability To Discount, Part 17
Don’t Discount The Customer’s Ability To Discount, Part 16
Don’t Discount The Customer’s Ability To Discount, Part 15

Let’s Hope He’s Better At Videogames Than He Is At Trying To Intimidate Employees

, , , | Right | December 11, 2021

Customer: “I need to return this.”

Me: “Can I see your receipt?”

Customer: “I don’t have one, but it was $300.”

After checking his item (a home arcade cabinet) I can say that we’ve never had it in stock.

Customer: *Intimidating.* “You will be refunding me!”

I’m 5’3 and 21 years old so he thinks he can intimidate me, but…

Me: “Unlucky for you, sir, I am the assistant manager and I have worked all the way through [Health Crisis]. Nothing can faze me anymore.”

He did not expect that… or get his refund!

Throwing A Fit Doesn’t Mean You Have To Do That!

, , , | Right | CREDIT: Miss_Drew | December 11, 2021

My first job as a teenager was at a large chain pharmacy that also sold food and home goods. The store was near several assisted living homes, so we had mostly elderly customers.

One day, I was asked to work the register in the pharmacy with the pharmacy tech to assist with long lines. I had caught up with customers and was just standing around while the tech rang up an older lady. She had picked up a few groceries from the store area and wanted to check out at the pharmacy register with her prescription pickup. No problem. The tech pulled up her file on the computer.

Tech: “I’m afraid this prescription isn’t covered by your insurance, ma’am.”

She became absolutely livid!

Customer: “How dare you withhold my medicine?! Give me the price with insurance coverage!”

Tech: “Ma’am, we simply can’t do that. We have no control over what the insurance decides to cover.”

This elderly woman then proceeded to pick up her carton of eggs and throw them at the pharmacy tech! He dodged the eggs and they exploded all over the floor behind the desk. She then pulled her purse up over her shoulder, turned around, and stomped out of the store.

The whole time, I just stood there in shock, watching it all go down. I had never seen someone act that way! The tech calmly brushed it off as if it was a normal occurrence. I grabbed the mop bucket and we cleaned up the mess together.

Messing With The Ice Cream Truck Was The Final Straw

, , , , , | Friendly | December 10, 2021

I lived across the street from a family who were… trashy. I mean trashy in a rather literal sense. The parents decided that their “street corner medications” were more important than, say, paying the garbage bill. The trash and filth (including dirty baby diapers) accumulated in their home and side yard and backyard until the garbage bags were taller than the father, who was six-foot-something). 

Complaints about the smell, mice, and cockroaches that infested the neighborhood were prolific but had no impact. It wasn’t until child services were called that they were forced to clean up, screaming swear words at the tops of their lungs as fermented diapers exploded at the slightest touch and weather-worn garbage bags disintegrated, spewing their foul contents in all directions.

Now that you’ve had a peek at the parents, I submit for your disapproval the oldest of five children: the eight-year-old. 

Like most neighborhoods, ice cream trucks tinkled and blared their time-worn jingles as they trundled through the neighborhoods during the summer. Well, the children wanted their popsicles every time the truck came through. Their parents had no money left over to give them, so they would flag down the truck and order their ice cream and then be unable to pay.

The driver wised up after the first time and asked for the money at the time of ordering. When the kids had no money, no ice cream would be produced.

Child: “GIVE ME THE POPSICLES, YOU MOTHERF*****!”

Truck Driver: “There’s no need for that kind of language. You can have the popsicles when you have the money.”

Child: “I DON’T HAVE ANY! GIVE ME THE MOTHERF****** POPSICLES NOW!”

Truck Driver: “No money, no popsicles.”

The child screamed swear words, punched the truck, and seized rocks from their front yard and started throwing them at the truck. The rest of the children followed suit.

Unfortunately, the rest of the neighborhood kids and parents were subjected to this horrific example of inhumanity, and the parents of the good kids were forced to hustle their children out of the way of flying projectiles.

I could hear the distinct CRACK of the windshield taking a rock just the right size to spiderweb it.

Then, the child grabbed a large rock and tried to climb through the open portal to get inside the truck, screaming about stabbing a motherf***** if he didn’t motherf****** get his motherf****** popsicles.

Recall that this was an eight-year-old boy doing this.

The poor truck driver had to catch the little devil by the throat and forcefully shove him backward out of the truck while he was too stunned by the loss of air. The truck then gunned off down the street faster than the speed limit. 

The whole pack of kids chased the truck, screaming, “STOP! STOP NOW!”

The police got involved, and the father had to be forcefully subdued and arrested for attacking the cops. Apparently, meth was found in the home, and the house stood empty for months afterward while the place was made livable again.

It took five years for the ice cream truck to resume making its rounds along our street again