The Ambulance Was Inevitable…

, , , , , | Right | February 3, 2020

(I’m a senior in college and my friend is telling me about a summer job she had at a popular fast food chain. She’s known for having wild stories but I think it’s safe to say this one takes the cake. The fast food chain is connected to a gas station so it’s typical that they have someone buy beer next door, drink it in their car, and then come to them for food. This guy comes in at seven in the morning, clearly drunk.)

Customer: “What do you have?”

Friend: “We’re serving breakfast right now, sir.”

Customer: “Do you have any bourbon?”

Friend: “I’m sorry, did you say–?”

Customer: “Bourbon. You got any?”

Friend: “I apologize, sir, we don’t sell that. We do, however, have breakfast at the moment.”

Customer: “Can I get your number?”

Friend: “Sir, how old do you think I am?”

(A lot of people think she’s very young due to how short she is, the uniform they have to wear, and her not wearing any makeup.)

Customer: “Fourteen. So can I get your number?”

(At this point, my friend gets the manager to take over and he serves him and he leaves. They think that’s the end of it. Wrong. A few hours later, some employees and customers both complain of a guy stumbling around in the parking lot. Unfortunately, he’s on the gas station’s side so they can’t do anything but talk to them.)

Manager: “That guy out there, he’s causing problems. Can you call the police?”

Gas Station Owner: “No. He’s our best customer and always buys the most stuff from us.”

(So, nothing is done about the weirdo guy. He goes behind the building and they think that’s the end of it… until a couple of hours later when an employee goes to clean the men’s bathroom.)

Employee: “Um… there’s a guy passed out in the bathroom… in his own puke. We should probably call an ambulance.”

(My friend’s work ended up calling the paramedics. The intoxicated man was taken out on a stretcher with, you guessed it, alcohol poisoning.)

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The Epic Of The Babies Of Beanie

, , , , , , , | Right | January 24, 2020

(This is during the Beanie Baby craze of the mid-90s. The one store in our small town that sells these fuzzy toys is getting a new shipment which is said to contain a few special releases — one of which turns out to be the new Princess Bear released in honor of the late Princess Diana — and the usual group of customers line up before the shop opens that morning to be sure of getting one. The store only allows each customer to get two of a new release, as supplies are limited. I have a dental appointment scheduled for later in the morning, so Mom agrees to just let me skip school and come with her. While we wait, we chat with the other customers and everyone is generally friendly and excited. But there’s one woman who keeps inching her way up the line. She’ll talk to someone for a few minutes and then turn to talk to the person in front of them and step forward. A couple of minutes later, she’ll start talking to the person in front of them and step forward again. Everyone has noticed and is annoyed by it, but no one wants to call her out and risk an altercation.)

Mom: *leans down to whisper to me* “They’re going to open any minute now, and I’m going to deal with her. Go get our Beanies and wait for me by the postcard racks.”

(Mere seconds later, the door is unlocked, and as we’re the first in line, Mom opens the door… and then steps aside to hold it open for the rest of the line, effectively blocking this woman from going inside. She stands there holding the door until the last little old lady has hobbled in, and only then steps aside and gestures the line cutter to enter. By this point, everyone else has gotten their toys and gone to check out. There’s only one of the Princess Bears left, and none of the other new release. The woman is furious, but the staff are polite yet unsympathetic; they saw her cutting the line, too.) 

Mom: *joins me in browsing the antiques while we wait for the line to fade* “And that’s how you handle line cutters. Did you get the bears?”

Me: “Yup. And they let me have yours, too, so we can each buy two of them.” 

Mom: “Good. Pick yourself out a couple of postcards for your collection, and then we’ll check out.”

(While I’m dithering over the postcard selection, the final customer is helped and leaves, and one of the employees comes over with a small box in her hands.) 

Employee: “I saw what you did there, ma’am, and it made my day. I wasn’t sure you’d be able to get your Beanies, though, so I set some aside for you.”

Mom: “Oh! Thank you, but my daughter already picked up my share. I know we’re only allowed two each for new releases, and I don’t want to be greedy.”

Employee: “Ma’am, I’ve seen you come in here time and again, and greedy is the last word I’d ever use. Besides, don’t you have more kids at home?”

Mom: “Yes, actually. I have five in total.”

Employee: “Well, then, I think we can waive that rule just for today. Here you go! That should make six of each design: one for each of the kids, and one for you!”

(We thanked her profusely, purchased our toys and postcards, and went on our way. It was only later that my mom actually looked at her receipt and saw that she was given the employee discount, too. We brought chocolate for that sweet employee the next time we came in and became quite good friends until we moved away the following year.)

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Unfiltered Story #183956

, , | Unfiltered | January 24, 2020

Back when I was working in retail, there would occasionally be times when the store would have sales on the cheaper, seasonal floral but not the higher end stuff. now, while we always made sure that our signs were clearly marked, sometimes customers would not read them or not pay attention to the product they were picking up or other customers may have mixed the different floral brands together. This day, I am cashiering, there is one cutting counter person, and my favorite manager in the store.

*Side note: If someone is purchasing for non-profit, re-sale, or for some other reason be tax exempt, they need to show us proof so we can set up a store account.*

A woman who runs her own floral shop (we will call her Renee) comes in and fills up a cart with all things floral and crafty before approaching my register. As I was checking her out she claimed to be tax exempt but I could not find her in the system. I offered to enter her info if she could produce proof of her exempt status. At this point Renee starts berating me that everything is electronic now and the state no longer sends out tax exempt cards. My manager, who had been nearby setting up a display, explained that there are certificated of proof that anyone with tax exempt status can print out and if she does not have it, we can hold the stuff for a day but we cannot remove the tax.

Renee starts yelling about living an hour away and how she should not have to prove anything or make an extra trip. She then proceeded to cancel her transaction and storm out so I moved her stuff to the put-back bins and moved on to the next customer in line, which had gotten so long my manager hopped on another register. It was not long, though, before Renee stomped back into the store, cut the line, grab her abandoned cart and start THROWING things at me. How I stayed calm, I’ll never know. She demanded I finish ringing her up (manager said to just do it. I wanted to send her to the back of the line) but as I tried to, Renee started ripping things out of my hands. When it got to the point where I needed a manager’s authorization to fix a problem with the transaction, Renee got even more abusive, yelling, swearing and throwing a temper tantrum like a spoiled brat. She started throwing things into her purchases and removing others, making things more difficult for my manager who was trying to help her. When my manager, CALMLY but firmly, told Renee that she would have to calm down or she would not help Renee anymore, Renee started screaming and crying, actually crying because someone was trying to help her.

After Renee left and we were cleaning up for the day my manager turned to me and said, “I really wanted to throat punch that woman in the face.”

Me, “She made you so angry, you’re going to do something physically impossible? I wanna see that.”

Unable To See The Weight Of The Problem  

, , , , | Right | January 11, 2020

(I’m at my mechanic because my battery died right as I was going to work. These guys may be the best mechanics ever, always doing good work in little time. In this case, even though I drove in with no warning, they’re getting me a new battery installed in less than an hour. I hear the following side of a phone conversation:)

Mechanic: “No, I’m sorry, we won’t be able to help you with that.”

(Pause.)

Mechanic: “Because that’s too much weight for us to put on our lifts.”

(Pause.)

Mechanic: “Yes, you’re correct, [Previous Manager] did sometimes do that, which was a misuse of the equipment and resulted in burned-out motors and people’s cars stuck in the air in our bays.”

(Pause.)

Mechanic: *rolls eyes* “Because we cannot take our standard lifts and put your motorhome on them!

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Unfiltered Story #182245

, , | Unfiltered | January 11, 2020

I’m the idiot customer in this story.
I have an appointment at a store’s automotive service center. I enter through the automotive entrance instead of the main store entrance and approach the desk.
Me: I have a 5:00 appointment.
Him: I’m going to send you on through to my tire desk.
I thank him and follow a maze of hallways to the tire desk and get checked in.
When I get back to the waiting room, I am mortified to notice that there are signs on the counter and by the hallway entrance that say to check in at the tire desk that I missed because I was focusing on the person at the desk.
I didn’t know whether to feel better or worse when the 3 people who came in while I was waiting all tried to check in with him. He was a trooper, just responded to everyone the same way and went about his business.