I know, I submit a lot, but after years of being a gas station slave, I have MANY stories for you!
Listen well, fellow slaves, for the tale of the day is about this complete DRUNK-ASS BITCH who came through our Drive-thru about three years ago.
It was dark out, I was in the drive-thru, the one job I truly LOATHE! Lazy-ass custys coming through, wanting me to cater to their every whim. Now, really, a lot of them are pretty cool, and I've learned that the cool ones come through because they have sleeping children in the car, or their dogs, you know, real legitimate reasons to not park and come in.
This one was not one of them.
Okay, so, bitch and her friend drive up. Friend is driving, bitch is the passenger. I can't tell how old she was, but she sounded around 65 to 70. She asked for two cartons of Grand Prix. These are pronounced like 'Free', not like 'Pricks'. (Can you tell what fun with have with the people who mispronounce them? Heh heh heh)
So, I go and get her her two cartons, ring 'em up, and announce the price. She looks at me and said 'I TOLD you I wanted PACKS.'
Now, this is actually common, to the point, I don't care. Maybe I didn't hear you right? Maybe you usually get cartons and wanted packs but told me wrong. Whatever, not gonna worry. I voided the transaction, apologized (I'm sorry you're a retard! Oh, oops, did I say that out loud?) and got her packs. Rang 'em up, announced the price, she gives me a debit card that I swipe, give back, and hand her her receipt to sign. Simple, right?
This bitch signed the receipt, gave it back to me, and I handed her the packs, only to have her glare at me and announce 'I TOLD YOU I WANTED CARTONS!'
I shut the window and marched over to one of my supervisors. This required a Visa Refund (We call ALL Debit cards Visas, I don't care what company you go through) and I couldn't do these yet. She went over to the window to begin the process, apologized for me, and handed her the refund receipt to sign. That was when things got diffacult.
Bitch: I'm not signing this! I already signed something!
Supervisor: But we need you to acknowledge that there was a refund!
Bitch: I already signed some other paper, I'm not signing this! Where's your manager?
Supervisor: She went home for the night.
I was standing just out of the bitch's sight, ignoring the conversation after that, trying to stock my single packs while my poor Supervisor tried to reason with this bitch. I had lost my name tag, so I didn't have it on. Finally, the supervisor leaned over and said, outloud, '*****, she wants me to give her your name. She's ******'s husband's aunt. Should I give it to her?'
The person she was related to was on the previous shift, and being related to her did nothing, because she's a slave like I am. I just snorted laughter and looked at the Supervisor and said 'Heh, no!'
So, she looked out the window again and said 'Her name is Carolynn.' which is my middle name. Satisfied that she was going to get me in trouble, the bitch signed the refund receipt, got her things, and left. We laugh about her to this day.
And to this day, when we get a customer who becomes irate at us because THEY told us the wrong thing, we refer to them as a 'Carolynn Customer'.
Lots of love and understanding
--Terah, the Gas Slave