Retail Hell Underground

Retail Hell Memories: Software Store District Manager Caves To A Bogus Return From a Surprising Custy

JAH here with another encounter from the ancient software store.

As usual, this goes back awhile and involves the Commodore 64. When I first started working at the store, we sold the NES and Master System as well as PC/DOS software, Apple II, Commodore 64, and Amiga software. As you might expect, as the years went by, the computer software slowly migrated to PC/Windows exclusively. This event took place about five years after the last piece of C64 software was shipped back to corporate to make room for something else. 

Now, a little background. We had an insane return policy that basically said if you have a receipt, we'll take it back. No time limit, opened or unopened (the store eventually changed the policy to 30 days at least - but too late to avoid the chapter 11 firesale). If someone returns an item without a receipt and unopened, we can offer store credit based on the current price in the computer. When items in our system got too old, instead of removing them, they are knocked down to 99 cents so there's at least a record of them.

So these two teenagers come into the store with two unopened Commodore 64 games and they want a refund. They, of course, don't have a receipt. The items have ragged/unraveling price tag on them for $40 each and are clearly from my store - but they had to have been bought at least five years earlier.

I look them in the system and they are both set to 99 cents so I can only offer them store credit for $1.98. They object to this and insist on a full price refund since the products are unopened. I apologize to them, point out that it's been at least five years since these were purchased. They agree and tell me they found them at the bottom of a closet. I let them know that we can't do anything with the returned items ourselves... that we'll be taking a complete loss on the items since we can resell them or get a credit for them.

They continue to argue, blah blah blah. I eventually get my manager who backs me. They then say they are going to get their dad and then we'll give them a refund.

They leave... and come back in later with an angry dad... who says, "You will take this return" and then flashes his police badge. 

So my manager has a conversation with the district manager who, of course, tells us to give them a full refund of the marked price... which we do with the cop looking smug the whole time.

There are few things more ego-defeating than letting a customer win an argument over a return and have to eat crow while they look on, knowing they won. I should have shrugged my shoulders and let it be - I had no ownership in the company and I was just a peon... but there's something to be said for (one-sided) loyalty for a store you've spent (at that point) about six or seven years working for.

I wish this was the only case where the district manager folded and I know this is hardly a rare occurrence based on other stories people tell. What bites my butt most is the abuse of power and the self-righteousness that the badge would let him get his way. And the lesson that taught his entitled kids. Of course, they'd probably long since been taught this lesson.

If I had the balls at the time (and hindsight), I should have taken his badge number down and reported him to the local police department. But, alas, this was many, many years ago and that would probably have developed into its bureaucratic mess.

--JAH

 

Campus Cop Hell: Entitled Students

From CopyCop:

Hello All! It's been a while since my first post, but I'm back! And this time with a story from my Campus Police job.

Now, I'm sure that most of you are used to Campus Police being near actual police officers on campus. My university however is a little different. We're all students. And we don't carry guns. Just a first aid kit, walkie-talkie and flashlight. Most shifts involve us patrolling around campus on foot at night, to make sure no drunk student has passed out in a snow bank or something. However, most of the time, I work as security at the campus bar. And this is where my story comes from.

So Friday night, it's a Y2K party at the bar. Meaning, they're playing all the music I listened to in junior high, awesome. I was loving it!

Anyway, I was put on the door, checking ID's, etc. When along comes this one guy. He was on one of the three pub crawls that were happening that night, and this was obviously the first stop.

So I take his ID, look at it, and see that it's expired. So, of course I tell him that I can't let him in with an expired ID.

Well he starts pulling out all sorts of other things. Bank card, health card, etc. saying "come on, my info hasn't changed, these all say I'm the same person!"

To which I reply, "I'm sorry, but legally I cannot let anyone in with an expired government photo ID. If you can come back with another piece of government photo ID I'll be happy to let you in."

He tried with the other IDs in his pocket again, and then 3 of his friends on the pub crawl chimed in. "We all worked in bars, and you can let him in with his health card!"

At which point the Senior CP (my supervisor for the night) came to check on us, and after explaining the situation to her, she started to tell them the same thing we had.

Well they weren't having it. They continued to argue for a few more minutes, meanwhile, my partner and I at the door were trying to get the other people in line, to come around them so that they could get in.

Eventually they gave up, the guy went home, and his friends all came in (they all had valid photo ID). Funny thing is, when he finally came back with his passport, most of his pub crawl had left for the next bar. 

Well that's all for now, I might be back soon with some fun stories. Like the time I caught a couple about to have sex against a building, while on patrol.

--CopyCop

 

Badge 666 Takes Out a Creepy Custy

You know I often get the response almost daily from people saying "I don't know how you're able to be a cop, I could never do it".

But after seeing the way retail slaves are treated I know you guys get it so much harsher than we do, because at least we are able to act upon the way were are treated, while your company requires you to "grin and bear it."

I was recently stopping by a convenience store during a long drive. After I get what I want I head up to the counter to pay. Now this is one of those types of counters that is completely surrounded by bullet proof glass so there is only that one slot to where you can get to to make your purchase.

Of course, it's blocked by a guy leaning down into the slot throwing his game at the rather cute girl working the register.

Now, its late. It was around 10 or 11 at night so it was just her. No manager, no stock boy, just her. I give her points just for being able to do that. I'd be ringing people up with a meat cleaver in one hand and a cheese grater in the other....oh yes think of the possibilities.

No-Game Guy: Come on baby you know you want to give me your number. You're all bored and shit up in here, I can call you and keep you company.

I'm thinking he's been at this awhile since he's asking for her number but after reading the posts here this might be an opening line.

Cute Clerk: Sir, may I help you?

She's directing her eyes at me, obviously trying to get sir pimp douche to move.

Guy: Na baby he's fine, talk to me.

....still not moving. The poor girl has the look of pure frustration on her face as she is telling him to move so she can ring me up. This, of course, is only making him throw more of his "game" at her.

Well, I'm thirsty. This coke in my hand is getting warm and I still have 5 hours of drive time ahead of me. I step up beside the guy and nudge my way in front of him.

The dude jumps back in front of me. WTF?!?! I didn't come to the convenience store to play leap frog. Don't leap frog me. 

Me: Oh man you got a nice ass on you dude.

Meh, can't beat em' join em'.

Sir douche stops in mid pick-up line and turns toward me.

Him: What the fuck did you just say f****t?

Now I am a straight male, but that word pisses me off more than anything. I figured its time I give him the same treatment he's giving the poor store clerk.

Me: Man I was commenting your ass but now that you've turned around your package looks even better.

He's ready to kick my ass. See it coming.

Me: Doesn't feel good to be harassed does it? Now move so I can pay for my stuff and leave this woman alone

I leap frog back.

Then it happened. He grabbed me. As he grabs my arm he mentions something about he wasn't done talking to her, but all I hear is "hey sir can you please break my face?"

...but I didn't.

His face did meet the bullet proof glass as I twist that arm up behind him. Cute Clerk calls up the cops and they arrive and make the dude leave. I was three states away from my home state so when they asked if I wanted to press charges of course I'm saying no. No way am I coming back here for a possible court trial just so he can get a slap on the wrist. I know how the courts work.

Turns out he was from another state too which put my mind at ease because I was worried about him coming back when everyone was gone.

So basically I typed out all of that just to tell you guys my coke was flat. Found this out about 10 miles down the road, 30 minutes after I first arrived there after the whole talking to the cops.

Stopped at another store, got a water.

---Badge #666

  

  

Cop Hell: Disturbing Pull Over

A few weeks ago I read a hell story that mentioned a guy feeling up display mannequins and it reminded me of a truly disturbing story.

One night I pulled over a car for speeding. While walking up to the car I noticed that it had real dark window tint so I couldn't see inside it.

When I made it to the driver, I asked if he could put the back windows down (we do this for our safety to make sure no one is hiding etc.).

He did without any problem and a quick glance assured me no one was back there. I get his license and as I'm walking back to my car, I look in the back of the car again to see a head staring up at me from a box.

Now we are trained to stay calm under most situations.

So the outer me just stopped walking and stared while the little inner me was screaming like a frightened school girl.

The head was from a child mannequin and in a bigger box beside it was the rest of the body.

Of course my question to the guy was "Sir, why do you have pieces of a child in your backseat."

Apparently he had bought it off craig's list and was returning from having picked it up. Yep, nothing weird about that at all.

"Ok, do you work for a store or something and going to use it as a display?"

Come on, I wouldn't be sharing this story had he said yes.

So a run of his name says that he's a registered sex offender.

Oooooooffff course.

Legally he wasn't breaking any laws but his probation officer thought differently. Apparently it's suspicious to own a child mannequin if you touch kids. Who knew.

Anyway in the end he got what he deserved. Till this day however that face looking at me through the flaps of the box still disturbs me.

*shivers*

--Badge #666

 

RHU Police Officer: Crazy Walmart Custy

So this happened a few months ago at our local Wally World and seriously....you can't make this shit up.

So I get the call that a woman is being disruptive and refusing to leave the store. So I'm figuring the usual crusty bitch that didn't get her refund or something like that. I get there and she has handcuffed herself to the cart station.

This'll be fun.

The first question I want to ask is "Ok hun wtf is wrong with you" the question I have to ask is "Ma'am what's the problem?"

Cuffed Fucktard: Shut up pig PIG PIG PIG!!!!!

*sigh*

That word gets so old. But still to this day every time someone calls me that I picture a bright pink pig in a cop uniform and it brings a slight chuckle.

So once we got the greetings out of the way I found out her problem was that she thought Walmart was trying to take over the world. Apparently she found out that Walmart has more money than most third world countries and now believes they are trying to take over the US.

Part of me knows she's fucking crazy, but there is that small voice in the back of my head that says she has a point.

Meanwhile, I'm trying to figure out what to do. Remember the episode of Saved By The Bell where they handcuffed themselves inside of the school? Freedom to picket, right? Can she do this? I don't know because now I'm too busy remembering Kelly in those tight spandex.

....Oh yeah the cuffed chick. Well obviously she's on private property so she can't picket here, she's got to GTFO.

Me: Ok ma'am you've got to leave the store.

Cuffed fucktard: This is my GOD giving RIGHT!

Me: Yes ma'am you're right. However before you do something like this you must get permission from the police, and we have to take your fingerprints to be sure you're not a terrorist that plans on blowing Walmart up.

Shut up. I get to have fun with the crazies. Its the only thing that gets me through the day.

Best part is she believed me and uncuffed herself and walked out to my car with me.

Another struggle dodged.

Oh, and she was banned from Walmart. Just another ploy for their world domination...get rid of those that are on to them.

---Badge #666

 

Cop Hell Dumbass Encounter

Hey slaves, RHU Police Officer again.

I had to stop by and tell you what happened last night during my strangest pull-over in a long time.

I get behind a motorcycle and the first thing I notice is the tag is wrong.

How?

My three years as a cop experience?

No.

My amazing attention to detail?

Nope.

The tag was huge.....

Huge because it was designed for a CAR!!!

Many of you may know that a motorcycle tag is small so that it fits properly. Oh, and the first two letters of this tag were TL meaning that it was actually for a trailer. Sure enough when I run it, it comes back as a 1998 homemade trailer. I don't think Harley-Davidson would appreciate that.

So now that we have this guy's common sense measured its time for the stop. Hit my lights, he stops and immediately jumps off the bike. Uh-oh somethings wrong, he's gonna fight or shoot or something. Nope, takes off his helmet and chunks it at my windshield then lays on the ground with his hands behind his back.

At this point I'm halfway out of my car with my gun half out...confused as hell.

After the cuffs go on I ask him if he was trying to hit me with the helmet and maybe just missed. He very politely told me, "No sir I wouldn't do that to you, you're just doing your job. I was just pissed off."

Turns out he didn't have a motorcycle license, which could have been handled with a ticket and he would have been on his way home. The crack in my windshield from the helmet, however, resulted in him going to jail.

We call this job security. Never an end to the dumb ones...but you guys already knew that huh.

--Badge #666

Nasty Ass....Retail Slave...Thieves

Hello Undergroundonians, Hell's Security Guard here, to regale with you with yet another tale of woe. ( I will try to keep it as short as I can...)

Sherman, set the Wayback Machine to the late 90's. Set scene, Gas Station with fast food restaurant attached, and the single worst Manager I have ever heard of, let alone been forced to work for.

The story you are about to read is true, the names have been changed to protect the Fuckheads. No, seriously, it's true. In fact, I had to edit out about 80% of what I went through or I would have spent a good 6 hours typing.

Day 1) My very first day. I am being trained on second shift, by a skanked out druggie bitch. ( I should have figured out right then that things were afoot, I mean, after all, I put my application in at 8 AM that morning, had my interview about one minute later, and was told to report for training that afternoon...) The day doesn't go all that bad, at first. I'm new, so I'm getting the shit details, as well as having to run the register with the Bitch standing behind me watching what I do. No surprise.

It gets close to the time for third shift to arrive, and the Bitch, acting all nice, says "Hey, why don't you slip into the back room and have a cigarette? I can handle this for a bit." I'm thinking this is cool, she is a smoker, and we have been working breaks for each other all night.

I slip into the back room, have a seat, fire up a smoke, and keep my eye on the monitor in case she gets rushed. And here is what I see: A woman comes into the store, walks up to the counter, and orders two cartons of cigarettes. I watch the little ticker on the side of the monitor as they get rung up. The bitch takes some money. And then voids the transaction, hits No Sale to open the register, sets the money on the side of the register, and gives the woman her change. She then picks up the money as if she's going to make a Drop, and walks off camera (the camera that points at the safe was out, and never did get fixed the entire time I worked there).

I act all normal when I walk back to the register, and few minutes later third shift arrives. We go to do our checkout (Oh, did I mention there was only one register?) and, BIG SURPRISE, we discover that the cash count is short by NEARLY A HUNDRED DOLLARS!

The Bitch says not to worry, the manager will find the issue in the morning, and we go home. Knowing what is likely to be coming I get extremely drunk, and pass out.

At noon, the earliest I could force myself to get up and get cleaned up, I go into the store, and go straight to the manager. I tell her exactly what I had seen the previous night.

Turns out, as I had expected, the Bitch had called the manager first thing, and claimed that I was stealing from the register. The cunt of a manager (you'll see) says that she watched the tapes of the night before, watching every little move I made, and had come to the conclusion that I was not to blame. ( No fucking duh. I have never, in all my days on a register, taken so much as a dime.)

I figure that the manager will see the issue I told her about, fire the Bitch, and all will be cool. She then tells me to go home and get some extra sleep. Because we are now shorthanded, she has decided that she can trust me, and that I will be working third shift by myself that night.

This is not a big deal for me. By then I had been working gas stations long enough that the only training I needed was learning the new register, and I had that down pat in the first hour. (This is the late 90s remember, cash registers were easy.)

I go home, drink a few beers, pass out. Get up, arrive at work 15 minutes early. To find the Bitch (you know, the one that was stealing) running the register. Turns out we were short handed not because she got fired, but because the third shift person quit! The Bitch checks out, interestingly her drawer comes up fine, she leaves, neither of us said a word.

Two AM comes along and I finally get a break in the flow of customers. I lock the front door, and head for the back for a smoke while I check the cooler for restocking. Guess what I discover?

The monitor that points at the cash register has now had the little ticker on the side scrambled, so that when you run a transaction all that can be seen in real time is a bunch of Asterisks. Warning bells go off in my head, but I need the job.

Fast forward six weeks, after I had trained a new third shift guy to work part time on my days off, so I could stop working 7 days a week. The store has been having extreme difficulties with it's cigarette count. Somehow, every day, 2 cartons go missing, without fail. Hmmm, 2 cartons. Do we see a pattern here? I know I do.

I come in one evening to work my normal shift, to find my part time third shifter working second shift. Now, he and I have gotten to be pretty good friends by this point (and still are to this day). After we get his shift closed, and mine opened, he sticks around and lets me in on the story.

See, it seems that the Bitch had been fired that afternoon. Company Loss Prevention has been keeping a very close eye on this store after an anonymous tip (Who me? I would never do...oh all right, it was me) about theft. Bill (Not His Real Name) has been moved to second shift to cover the loss of the employee, and I'm back to working 7 day weeks. Now, I love 16 hours of overtime every week, but when am I going to get a chance to spend all that cash?

But wait, oh my darlings, this story is not over yet.

Fast forward another month. Bill has accepted a request from the DM to transfer to another store to run second shift. His last day was yesterday. I arrive at work thinking that I am going to be seeing the manager, because, as of that morning, they had not hired a new second shifter.

Oh, no. Guess again. It's THE BITCH! After she gets checked out she sticks around to tell me the story. The manager had called her that afternoon, and begged her to come back because she didn't want to work a double. The manager had worked up this nice little scam. When she filled out the paperwork for the new hire, she bumped the last number of the Bitch's Social up one number, and told the DM over the phone that she had hired the Bitch's twin sister because we were desperate for help.

(Now, do you see how stupid the Bitch is? She actually told me what the scam was.)

The end-all result : two weeks later the Bitch and the manager both get fired. And then the shitstorm hits. It turns out that the manager and the Bitch had been working together the whole time (who didn't see this coming).

The Bitch would give out two cartons of cigarettes every day, but void the transaction, and then the Bitch and the manager would split the money.

Both of them ended up in jail for theft, and the last I heard before I ran (which is another long story, which you may not believe...) was that the manager was awaiting Federal trial for falsifying Social Security and IRS documents.

--Hell's Security Guard

 

Hell Spawn + Nasty Ass Thief = Cop Hell

RHU Police Officer back with a tale of a hell spawn.

Actually I'm a Deputy Sheriff. I also work in a rural county which means we do it all. Over 200 square miles of pure joy and entertainment. Recently I was called to a local store that sells video games.

The manager caught a kid trying to steal a game, and stopped him by blocking the door. Of course the kid won't admit he stole anything, and the manager can't really do anything to him.....so its my job.

When I walk in and see a 12 year old boy dressed in baggy clothes and his hat turned sideways (whoa...almost broke into the pants on the ground song). Anyways, a complete thug wannabe spawn.

The manager told me what happened and offered to pull the video tape. It wasn't needed. I could see the game case outline under the boy's shirt.

Me: Where's your parents.

Thug Spawn: ---

Me: Hey! Parents...where are they?!?!

Thug Spawn: ---

This kid speaks English. Its obvious that 1. He walked here from home and 2. If he ignores me one more time I'm not liable for my actions.

Me: Dude give them back the game. I can see it under your shirt.

Thug Spawn: ---

The inner me is picturing me tazing the kid, taking the game, the dragging him home. Is that bad?

Me: Look, either you hand the game over or I'll take it from you.

Thug Spawn: You can't put your fucking hands on me!

I don't know if to be happy he's not ignoring me or mad that he's cussing me out. Either way I love it when people think they know the law and think they know what I can and can't do.

I'm 6'1, 6'2 on a good day...this kid didn't stand a chance. Of course I got the game from him.

I threw the kid in the back of my car, ready to take him home.

Me: What's your address.

Thug Spawn: ---

Oh goodie, he's gone mute again.

I eventually figure out where he lives and take him to his parents. Of course, the parents are more pissed off that I put him in the back of the police car than the fact that he tried shoftlifting.

*facepalm*

Ohhh just wait till I see them driving.

--Badge #666

  

RHU Academy Awards

Hell Spawn Mother Gets Told

Another Retail Balls Award! This one goes to The Jail Monkey who confronted the mother of an out of control Hell Spawn while she was shopping:

Well, I'm back, but this time I don't have a story about the weird/strange/disgusting stuff I have to deal with at The Jail. This is actually a story about something I saw and heard today as a customer that just made my jaw drop.

So I had a little time to kill and I go wandering around my local Barnes and Noble. Since I had just gotten off working the night shift, I was still wearing my uniform and gear. I was looking for a specific odd titled book, and actually received EXCELLENT customer service - greeted right away, clerk went above and beyond to find the book, walked me over to the section, etc. So I'm pretty happy with my shopping experience and decide to just.. wander.  I mean, who can't find something they didn't know they needed in Barnes and Noble?

I'm standing in an aisle browsing books and I hear a little kid incessantly whining the next aisle over. Now usually I try to ignore it, but I was tired, I have a cold, and I just wasn't in the mood to deal with it. 

I decide to leave the section I am in so I don't have to listen to this little brat, who is all of about 6 years old. I start walking down the aisle and as I walk in front of the next aisle over, I see the disaster this Hell Spawn has created. 

About 25% of the books in the aisle have been pulled off the shelf and strewn down the aisle, and this poster child for abortion is *kicking* a book down the aisle. 

The sorry excuse for a mother this demon child has is standing reading a book, just ignoring the retail apocolypse her child has created.

So of course I stop and just stare. 

The mother, who had been completely ignoring this kid until she saw me, turns and says:

"Johnny, (or whatever this fucktard's name was), right now you are making VERY bad choices.  I need you to start making good choices instead of bad choices. Don't you think that good choices would be better?"

 

So of course this kid says "no", and then the mother has the gall to say:

"Well if you don't start making good choices this policewoman here is going to lock you up!"

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!?!? 

First of all, how about you CONTROL your child to begin with. Second, put the fear of god into your child when he starts misbehaving in public, and then if that doesn't work - TAKE HIM TO THE CAR!!  And thirdly, just because I have a badge and a gun doesn't mean I am responsible for making sure your child behaves!! It is called being a parent!

Since I tend to lack a filter between my brain and my tongue, I say the first thing that comes to my mind:

"Lady, I am not responsible for raising your child. I am sure you are accustomed to everyone else taking care of your responsibilities but you need to grow up and actually be a parent to your child and not try to be his damn friend. That kid needed an ass whooping about 4 years ago - you created that monster and now the rest of us have to be punished because of it.  Your little brat isn't cute, he isn't funny, he is a destructive tyrant. But if you don't get that kid in line NOW, here in about 10 years I am sure him and the police are going to get very acquainted. I would start saving up for bail money now."

This lady's jaw just dropped and I walked off.

One of the store's employees happened to be standing nearby and heard everything. She came over, thanked me, and then gave me 20% off my entire order plus a free cup of coffee.

As I was standing in line I see this lady carrying her kid out the front door. I was just in disbelief at this woman. I have my job because I believe in the idea of protect and serve, not to raise your child!

--The Jail Monkey

RHUPD: Nasty Bitch Gets Told At The Golden Arches

Get ready to offer up a standing ovation slaves! Here's a story from a badass Custy who deserves a freakin medal! Enjoy:

I'm a cop and have been a cop for far too long, ever since I was 18. However, before 18 I worked in retail hell, however this isn't a story about that.

I was recently at a local McDicks behind a woman and he child. The child had a face full of snot so you can imagine how well this encounter was going to be.

After McBitch asked McSnot what he wanted she placed her order. The young slave behind the register was being the normal happy-go-lucky servant you'd expect. After placing the order McBitch goes to pay. But wait, McSnot has changed his mind.

My mom would have told me to shut up and it was too late. McBitch however has the slave change the order....4 different times.

After the money was paid McSnot ran off to play in the playground, surely sharing his snot with the other kids while mom waits on the food. She gets it then that's when shit hits the fan.

Apparently between the 5 different orders McBitch really don't remember what she ordered...only that what she got was wrong.

McBitch begins cussing out this poor slave. I can tell that this is a relatively new slave as she doesn't know how to respond to this verbal assault. Now, I was here with my girlfriend (hey not all the times do you have to take them to fancy restaurants) so I was not in the mood to step in. As sexy as I think I am in uniform I do like to stay off when I'm off.

All this of course until McBitch grabs a tray and throws it across the lobby. At this point I still really don't know what the fuck she is so pissed off about as McDicks manager is trying to fix her problem. However McBitch's vocabulary seemed to be limited to "dumb whore" and "stupid slut".

Well I've had enough. I started feeling bad for the slave and even the manager who was cowarding away. I step in between McBitch and the counter.

Now per our policy I must carry my badge and gun everywhere I go even when off duty. She hasn't seen this yet.

Me: You need to stop.

McBitch: You need to fucking move out of my way before I bust you in the fucking face.

(Seriously...still haven't figured out why she's so mad)

Me: I got a better idea. How about you get your crusty ass out of this store before I put your ass out myself.

(At this point I roll my shirt over my belt so she could see the badge and gun)

McBitch: This dumb bitch can't get an order right and won't give me what I want but you're throwing me out?

Me: Yep (could have probably had a better come back but hey it worked)

She attempted to grab the bag of food sitting on the counter. I snatch it away from her.

Me: Nope you're going to leave that here since apparently it wasn't right.

McBitch: I already paid for that!

Me: No, you apparently paid for something else that they couldn't get right. Now consider that a donation to McDonalds Fund for the trouble you've caused here.

McBitch: Aw hell nah I'm not leaving here without my money or my food!

McManager: Ma'am here's your money.

I block her from getting it.

Me: Listen here, either you go get your kid from that playground and get your smelly ass out of this restaurant or I promise you the fines I will have you paying will make it to where you can't afford the dollar menu here. On top of that this poor girl you've been yelling at won't have to worry about cleaning the floor for awhile because I'm about ready to put your ass on the ground.

I was close enough to her face now that I realized that when I called her smelly it apparently wasn't just an insult.

McBitch gathers McSnot and they drive away in their McBettle.

The manager thanks me and the poor slave, who's visibly shaking at this point, gives me my meal for free.

Guess I do have to thank McBitch for my free meal :/

---McCop, Badge #666

 

Dumbass Prisoner Encounter

From The Jail Monkey:

While I no longer work in retail, I do work in an industry that requires "customer service". For the last three years, I have worked in the intake portion of the local jail. 

I deal with an extremely wide variety of people on a nightly basis, from people who have forgotten to pay their traffic tickets to your Grade A crack whores, to people accused of murder. While it is a jail, I still have to provide customer service to these people, and if people are cool with me, I'll be cool with them.

I love my job and the variety, but there are definitely things that I have seen that cannot be unseen. There is not enough eye bleach to remove the things that I have had to look at.  Luckily there is quite a lot of humor in my job and that helps a lot, but I had to say something the other night that no person should EVER have to say. 

Here is the transcription of my conversation with a high on crack female inmate I was doing a strip search intake on:

Me: Ok Ms. *****, face me and begin taking your clothing off, starting with your shirt.

 

Her: Why I gotta do that?

 

Me: Everyone that is brought into the jail is stripped searched to make sure you have no drugs, money, or weapons hidden on or in your body.

 

Her:  What if I don't wanna do it?

 

Me: Well, if you choose not to cooperate, several officers are going to come in here and restrain you while we hog tie you.  From there we are going to take you to the local ER, where you will have x-rays and other tests done to confirm that you have no contraband hidden anywhere on or inside your body, and you will be billed for the costs of that. If they don't find anything you will be brought back to the jail, where an additional charge of Failing to Obey a Lawful Order will be added to the charges you already have.  If they DO find something, a new felony charge of Introduction of Contraband into a Secure Facility will be added.  It's your choice if you want to cooperate or not, but those are the consequences of failing to comply.

 

Her: Fine, I'll do it.

 

Me:  Do you have something on you that I need to know about?  If you are honest with me before the strip you will only be charged with the possession, but if you lie and I find it after the search, you will be charged with bringing it in.

 

Her: No, I ain't got nothin'.

 

Me: Ok, then begin by facing me and taking your shirt off and handing it to me.

 

So the strip continues with no problems. She hands me all of her clothing piece by piece, and I find nothing. Once all the clothing has been removed, I tell her to turn and face the wall, bend over at the waist, and spread her ass cheeks. (Note: This is NOT the highlight of my job, looking up cooch and ass all day. But since I want myself and my fellow officers to go home safe every night, I realize this is a necessary evil.)

As she does this, I notice something up the cooch that does not belong. I immediately go into defensive mode in case it is a weapon. I let my backup know that I have something but don't know what it is. So the rest of the conversation goes like this:

Me: What do you have inside of you?

 

Her: I don't know what you are talking about, I ain't got nothing.

 

Me:  I am looking right at it, I can see something in there.  Tell me what it is now or this is going to get a lot worse.

 

Her:  Fine, I'll tell you.  It's an avocado.

 

Me: ........... a what?!

 

Her:  An avocado. You know, you eat it?

 

Me:  You have an avocado in your cooch?!

 

Her:  Yes

 

Me:  Why in the fuck would you have an avocado in your cooch?!?!

 

Her:  Cuz I know what jail food is like, I been here before. I thought I'd bring something in to hold me over.

 

Me:  Are you fucking kidding me?! You stuck an avocado up your cooch in case you got hungry?! What the hell is wrong with you?

 

Her:  I didn't want to go hungry!

 

Me:  *sigh*  Ok, reach in and remove the avocado from your cooch and hand it to me.

 

So this female reaches in, pulls this avocado out of her cooch, and hands it to me (thank heaven for gloves!). The strip search ends and I dress her out and take her over to holding.  By this time I am laughing so hard I am crying, and everyone is wanting to know what is going on, and of course this is a story that HAS to be shared!

 

I mean really, I should NEVER have to tell someone to remove the avocado from their cooch.  Seriously, WTF?!  If you are really that hungry, just ask me and I'll get you extra food!  I have seen some weird stuff in my time there, but this one absolutely takes the cake!  There is never a dull day at the jail!

 

Signed,

The Jail Monkey

 

Security Guard Hell

Some insane Retail Hell from another perception:

While I have done plenty of Retail work myself (everything from convenience store to fast food to major department store) for the past several years I have been working as a Security Guard.

At this particular time I was guarding a gas-station/convenience store that was widely considered to be the single worst location in this city. (Two years ago in a period of six weeks there were 35 murders in the city. 25 of them occurred within a six block radius of this store.) 

This was just one of many of my nights.

1) Five minutes after going on duty one of the local crack whores comes screaming into the store claiming she had just been raped. We offered to call the police. She said no. Ten minutes later I had to run her out of the parking lot because she was trying to trick up one of the guys who had stopped in for gas. Go figure.

2) About an hour later "Dino" walked into the store. Now "Dino" is probably the worst customer I have dealt with. When he's sober he's fine. This time he wasn't sober. Everything was fine until he got in line, and then all of the sudden he starts screaming at the latina in line in front of him, for no reason, using just about every slang term you've ever heard for Mexican's in about 5 seconds. By the time I get over there to eject him from the store he's got this poor little woman nearly cornered and she is freaking out. It takes me a few seconds to get his attention because by state law I can not touch him in any way until he actually gets violent. He rounds on me and starts screaming at me, calling me Cracka and Honkey, screaming "Yeah, that's right, I'm a nigga racist, whachyou gonna do about it?" Well, long story short, police were called, and he ended up with a nice set of bracelets and a free ride downtown.

3) A couple of hours later N.A.T. attempts to steal one of the sandwiches the store sells. N.A.T. is so stupid that he doesn't seem to realize that it doesn't fit in his pocket. When I stop him he starts yelling about how he had just paid for the sandwich ( he had never even gotten close to the registers) and that I was just profiling him 'cause he was black. I get the sandwich back after about 5 minutes, and out he goes, banned.

4) Guy comes into the store. He's obviously drunk, but the other guy he is with seems sober, and they cause no problems. They walk out. Less than a minute later I hear a screech of tires, followed a second later by a rather large BOOM. Turns out drunk guy was driving because sober guy did not have a license, and he had just backed out as fast as he could, right into the passenger side of a SUV that was getting gas. The woman in the passenger seat goes fuck-nuts on the guy because she had been hit by a drunk driver a couple of years earlier. I spend the next 15 minutes trying to keep the woman from going medieval on the guy while we wait for the police to show up.

5) Saved the best for last. A kid, about 19, comes into the store. Your basic hard on punk type. As a matter of course I watch the kid, as he blithely starts stuffing his jacket with several items. I stop him as he's leaving, get the usual "Man, I aint never stole nothin' in my life" garbage. Police get called. He gets the bracelet treatment, and then it starts getting fun. The kid asks me, while he's waiting to be put in the cruiser, if his truck will be safe. I ask him which one, and he says, "That one" and points with his chin. The cop ( my favorite cop in that area ) and I both look over, and then we look at each other. The car he has pointed out is a brand new SUV, an expensive one. I raise my eyebrow at the cop, he nods, and walks over to the SUV. As his partner is putting the kid in the cruiser he calls in the license plate. Oh, guess what? Mr. " I aint never stole nothin' " is driving a stolen car. And it keeps getting better. The cop does a search of the SUV. What does he find in the back? About four thousand, that's thousand not hundred, dollars worth of stolen merchandise, most of it clothing with the big plastic "Don't steal me" devices still attached.

And that was just one of my nights. And not even the busiest one. And people wonder why Security Guards and Cops drink. It's a natural antidote to the moron virus that seems to fly around us.


---You will Re-spect my ATHORITAYH, even in Hell.

You Just Never Know Who You're Waiting On

Hello all! Joe here again with more Tales Of The Working Class.

I'm going to branch out today to include other folks' tales.

This one is from none other than my son. He's a cop in a seaside resort town here on the east coast. This actually happened last year. 

It's three o' clock in the morning and SonnyeBoy is sitting in his cruiser. The audible tones of the dashboard-mounted radar gun are rising and falling with each passing car. To pass the time, he's texting his fellow on-duty officers on the cruisers' computer. (His mother and I refer to it as SCMODS. Two pats on the head to whoever can tell me what movie that's from.)

Suddenly the radar tones scream and SonnyeBoy sees a silver 4-door Chevy come hauling ass down the highway. He puts his car in gear and peels out of the side street. He falls in behind the Chevy and activates lights and siren. He radios in make, color and tag number.

Just then, the car he's chasing pulls a wicked U-turn. Now the adrenaline's REALLY flowing! The driver then makes their last mistake: they turn down a dead-end street.

My son screeches to a halt behind the Chevy, radios in his location, and pulls his .40-caliber automatic weapon. He orders the driver to exit the vehicle and put their hands up.

It's then that he notices the driver is a little old lady, maybe 70 years old! The front-seat passenger also looks to be at least that old!

The driver is weeping and saying, "I'm SORRY", over and over. Another officer comes flying up behind my son's car. While they're trying to determine what's going on, a fourth car pulls up behind the cruisers. A man gets out and this exchange occurs:

Man: "Officer, officer, what happened?"

SonnyeBoy: "STOP RIGHT THERE! Let me see your hands!"

Man: "Oh, sorry. Are they all right?"

Second Officer: "Why don't you tell me who YOU are first."

Man: "Oh, yeah. Sorry. I run the Knights of Columbus hall up in ------ Beach. I was following them to make sure they got home okay. Ya' see, uh, they've been drinking a little bit."

My son then walks over to deal with the man while the second cop continues to question the two ladies.

SonnyeBoy: "So you say they've been drinking? How much would you say the driver had?"

Man: "About two Jack and Cokes."

SonnyeBoy: "ABOUT two or ACTUALLY two?"

Man: "It was ACTUALLY two, sir. But can't you cut them a little slack? They're sisters..."

SonnyeBoy: "So?"

Man: "...of Mercy."

SonnyeBoy: "Wait, what? They're NUNS?!"

Man: "Yes sir."

SonnyeBoy: "Jesus CHRIST!"

Man: "Exactly!"

My son's Lieutenant arrived on the scene and it was determined that SonnyeBoy would drive the two nuns home in their car. The second officer would follow in his cruiser and later return my son to his car.

And, after the wayward Sister promised never to drink and drive again, no charges were brought against her. Proving once again: It's not WHAT you know, it's WHO you know. Amen.