Hello, RHU. Two stories for you.
The first one deals with the idiots we’ve had in the store in the past couple of weeks.
Had a guy come in on Monday, wanted the price of some cigarettes. Now, since we’ve started charging a 5% Tribal Tax (We do NOT charge State Tax) our prices are hard for us to just remember, so we have a little ‘cheat sheet’ that has all prices listed as what they will ring up as. He asks some prices, and on the last one, I said ‘[Generic Brand] looks to be around $I-Don’t-Give-Two-Shits.’
Guy: *Points* THAT price says $Cheaper. THAT’S what you’re going to sell it to me for.
I look over, and realize. ‘Oh. That’s the price before tax.’
Guy: BULLSHIT! You don’t HAVE taxes here!
Terah: …it’s a 5% tax that the tribe is imposing at their stores. It’s less than the state tax, which we aren’t required to enforce.
Guy: This whole damn state is an Indian Reservation! Don’t give me that bullshit, it’s illegal for you to charge tax!
NOT A RESERVATION!!! I managed to calmly explain to him the difference between ‘Land in Trust’ and ‘Reservation Land’ and he tells me that the travel agency lied to him. Who the FUCK is telling people this bullshit?!
The NEXT DAY I’m back in the gas station, and towards the end of the night, I have a VERY similar conversation. Only, when the explanation of Tax came around, THIS lovely gem decides to start talking to me like I’m a retarded 6 year old he just caught lying.
Guy2: Oh REALLY? And when did you start charging ‘Tax’?
Terah: March first.
Really? Did the Chief forget to send some kind of memo that said we’re converting to a Reservation? Or is it that most people are just dumbasses?
Tera gets a Retail Balls Award for this horrible encounter with a huge bitch. Terah handled it brilliantly:
Now, the second story happened on Easter Sunday. At some point, my register stopped letting me preset Pump 2. I was by myself while my coworker was putting beer in the cooler and ShiftLeader1 was making pizzas, and as I am frantically trying to figure out how to get this damn pump to respond, a woman yells up at me, asking for price of beer.
Terah: I’m sorry, ma’am, I don’t know. You’ll have to let me scan it for you!
And I go back to what I was doing. ShiftLeader1 comes up as the woman announces to her friends what a ‘Rude Shit’ I am. Yeah, whatever. Maybe I’m rude, but I manage to can it in front of customers.
She comes up and goes to my Shift Leader, and asks if we have comment cards. ‘Because you have some VERY rude workers here and I’d like my opinion to be known!’
Shift Leader didn’t understand, and as I was waiting on another customer, having gotten my problem sorted out I said ‘Hi, what can I get’cha sir?’
Bitch: Oh, NOW she pretends to give a damn!
ShiftLeader1: Uh, what’s going on?
Terah: I didn’t know the price of this lady’s beer, so I guess she thinks I’m being rude?
And the bitch goes off!
Bitch: You ARE rude! I do THIS *hand motion* for a living!
Terah: So, I do this as a hobby?
Bitch: You were a bitch to at LEAST four people since I’ve been in here! (Let’s just ignore the fact, lady, that you’ve been in here for maybe 5 minutes) If I were to do this, I’d be fired! I can’t BELIEVE they’d let you get away with shit like this!
I could feel myself getting mad, but before I could open my mouth, the Shift Leader just said ‘Maybe you should go in the back for a few minutes’. So I went to walk off, yelling ‘Whatever, miss, you aren’t worth the energy to be mad at!’
Bitch: ‘Whatever!’ Oh, ‘WHATEVER!’ I PROBABLY FUCK THE OWNER OF THIS PLACE ALL THE TIME! YOU’RE GONNA BE LUCKY TO HAVE A JOB IN THE MORNING!
I wanted to scream ‘Then tell [Tribe Chief] that I said ‘Hi’ when you see him!’ but I didn’t. I just slammed the door as hard as I could. I went in the back and broke down in a fit of anger. I have… issues with my anger. I’ll be the first to tell you that, but I rarely let it show on the floor. Back there, my blood pressure shot so high that my face was red as an apple. If you could even distinguish my eyes from the rest of my face, you couldn’t tell what color they were.
And I blacked out for a good few minutes. Foofy said I was ranting the entire time, but I don’t remember. This ended with me dry heaving in the toilet.
The next day, when I came in, I went to ask the Bookkeeper if the lady had called in on me and told her the story. She seemed to think, though, that the lady might have meant our manager, and when I explained that this bitch had pretty much called herself a slut last night, she damn near fell off her chair laughing, screaming for the manager to tell her about it.
She never called in, but I would have taken a write up for it.