This one didn’t happen directly to me, but I was in the store and by the end, the hole where my faith in humanity had once lived had lost IT’S faith in humanity. Hole-ception. The faith itself had long since moved to an isolated cabin in Montana and had begun writing manifestos that CNN refused to publish.
A coworker had been marking stuff down to clearance prices using a cart, a stack of clothes as big as she was, and a sticker-printing pricing gun. Policy was, if a customer asked for help, you dropped what project you were on and helped. Standard stuff.
So she got asked for help, shoved the pricing gun under a stack of shirts, and left with the customer. A NAT had either been watching, or was just in the right place at the right time. She retrieved the pricing gun from its hiding place and proceeded to mark down brand new items, putting $1.99 stickers on $40 merchandise. Fortunately she was caught in the act by one of the supervisors, who told her that she wasn’t allowed to do that.
A normal person might have gotten embarrassed and left the store, but not this bitch. She put the gun down and began walking to the registers with her illegally marked-down stuff. Supervisor told her she would still have to pay full price on the stuff she marked down.
The stupid woman lost what little mind she had.
Stupid Woman: “You HAVE to give these to me at this price! They’re MARKED DOWN! It’s the LAW!!”
Supervisor: “Since you marked them down yourself, it doesn’t count. You’ll still have to pay full price.”
The stupid woman then began yelling and screaming inarticulately, swearing up a storm and promising to sue Old Slavery into bankruptcy. And she didn’t stop. Finally, the police were called, and she was taken away in handcuffs.
The second story isn’t quite as insane, but was a little more fun. Any retail slave with more than a month’s worth of experience can spot imminent scams and plots, and stupid NATs make it too easy sometimes. I think the following was this group of NATs first time. It was almost cute.
A family of NATs had just walked into the store, a Daddy NAT, a Mommy NAT and two tweenish-looking baby NATs.
Daddy Nat had a folded brown paper sack under his arm, the kind with handles. Now, any retail slave worth his salt knows to keep an eye on empty bags and sacks, and the supervisor at Old Slavery was a veteran.
He came up to me as I was folding shirts and explained the game plan. I was to follow the Daddy Nat and “do recovery” in whatever section of the store he was in. Mr. Supervisor would stand right in front of the door and make eye contact with every member of the NAT family that came within range, but especially Daddy NAT.
The other members of the NAT clan would bring him items, and he’d reach for the bag under his arm and glance at me. I’d give him my best customer service smile and keep “working.” After about 15 minutes or so, he walked out into the middle of the store and made eye contact with Mr. Supervisor at the front door.
Daddy NAT then casually walked into the fitting rooms, stuffed the paper sack into the trash can, called all his little NATs to him, and they positively fled. Mr. Supervisor even gave them a cheerful “Thanks for coming in!” as he held the door for them.
Of course, it’s a good thing Daddy NAT didn't know it was all a bluff. Like most retail corporations run by retarded chimpanzees that have never worked at store level (i.e. ALL retail corporations), there was a policy in place that stated we could not, under any circumstances whatsoever, confront a customer about shoplifting.
No accusations, no asking to look in their bags, nothing. The most we could do was follow them into the parking lot and try to get a license plate number. Of course, employees were virtually strip-searched when leaving after our shifts but that was all right because employees aren't people, occupying a spot on corporate’s “undesirables” list somewhere below shoplifters but just above maggot-infested rotting corpses.
I’m not bitter, I swear.
May all your customers be sane and your NATs be dumb.