The Gift Card That Gave Up Giving

, , , , , | Working | December 26, 2019

(My mother-in-law sends us a gift card for Christmas to a large department store. I seldom shop at that store because it is always a pain in the, er, neck. But, with the card being only good there, I have to suck it up. We pick out something for the whole family that would ring up to about the limit of the card and head to the register.)

Cashier: “That will be $101.62.”

Me: “Okay, I have this card for $100 of it, and I’ll pay cash for the last bit.”

Cashier: “We don’t take that card.”

Me: “It’s a gift card for this store. This is the only place it can be used.”

Cashier: “We don’t take it.”

Me: “You don’t take cards with this store’s name on it, purchased at a store with this store’s name on it?”

Cashier: “No.”

Me: “Well, you do. Run the card for $100, and I’ll pay cash for the rest or you can run $1.62 in cash and then run the card.”

Cashier: “We. Don’t. Take. That. Card.”

Me: “You. Do. Get. Your. Manager.”

(She rolls her eyes and calls a manager. It takes quite a while, and the whole time she stands staring at me and I just stare back. Finally, the manager arrives.)

Cashier: “She wants to use a card we don’t take.”

Manager: “You can’t use it.”

Me: “Would you like to see the card?”

Manager: “Okay.”

(I show the card with the store’s name clearly on the front.)

Manager: “We don’t take it.”

Me: “Try running it and see what happens.”

(The manager says nothing and half-heartedly swipes the card. The total drops to $1.62 on the screen.)

Manager: “See? It didn’t cover the sale.”

(Being completely fed up with this, I dropped the exact change in coins on the counter.)

Me: “Do you take cash?”

Manager: “The total was, what was the total? The total was over $100.”

Me: “Yes, and you ran the card for $100; the register clearly shows that. Here you have the rest. Now I need my receipt.”

Manager: “You have to pay first.” *actually getting pissy*

Me: “I have. Type in $1.62 and hit the cash button and see what happens.”

(She actually does, and the drawer pops open and a receipt spits out. The manager looks at the register, looks at me, looks at the cashier, looks at the receipt, and looks back at me with eyes a bit wide. I reach out, snatch the receipt, pick up the item, and walk out the door saying quite loudly:)

Me: “This is why I don’t shop here.”

(That chain has finally gone under. I shopped there one other time in the next decade. It just wasn’t worth the hassle.)

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