I've worked retail all my life, and like everybody in retail, I've run across my share of the sort of losers who can only important by abusing someone who can't defend themselves, like your typical retail slave. On the job, you grin and bear it (I always feel a little sorry for them), until they step over the magic line and you don't (and if you work at a decent place, that line is very well defined). But sometimes, you get to be someone else's knight in shining armor. This was one of those times.
I went to visit a friend in the hospital (who was in for the 2nd time in a couple of weeks because he'd caught the swine flue in the hospital) with a couple of friends. His room number was 13xx, and we discovered the building only had four floors, so the room number wasn't related to what floor he was on, like a hotel.
Back to reception for instruction.
There were three people ahead of us. The front one was talking to the (hispanic - in southern California, this is not even remotely noteworthy) receptionist/security guard, and I was never consciously aware of any other fact about this person (not even if it was a man or woman). The other two were a couple, and without consciously even looking at them, I mentally classifed them as "trailer park trash." I've always had excellent instincts about people.
So, the person in front finishes, and walks away. Trailer Park Man (TPM) proudly struts up and rips into the receptionist/security guard because they weren't speaking English.
Really? In a county where more people speak Spanish at home than English, you're pulling that shit?
Now, frankly, I didn't really care much about it. Figured the security guard could hold her own. But it became very clear that this asshat was showing off for his woman, thinking maybe if he was enough of a manly man he'd get some action later. I wasn't interested in wasting my time watching him strut like a demented pit bull on crack, so it was time for an Intervention.
Me: "I think the basic problem here is that you're an asshole."
TPM: "You think I'm an asshole because I think they should speak English?"
Me: "Yes, that's why I think you're an asshole."
TPM (sputtering a little bit): "But this is Amurika!!!"
Me: "And you're an ashsole."
TPM (sputting a bit more): "But they might be talking about us!"
Me: "Yeah, they're probably saying you're an asshole."
And so on, for a few more rounds, before he skulked off, crushed by shame and humiliation (not because he was called out for being an asshole so much as because we were laughing at him and his woman knew it), and his woman followed him, with a look on her face that said he wasn't getting any for a long, long time.
The two guys I was with commented that they were concerned we'd end up in a fist fight, but I never was. As I said, I'v always had excellent instincts for people, and this guy wasn't man enough to start throwing blows, especially with one of him (his woman probably would have held him down for us) and three of us. If I'd called him the racist he was, maybe, but calling him an asshole just confused him (a state he should be quite accustomed to, I would think).
The best part came as we were walking away, and one buddy old me he was watching the receptionist the moment I said the word "asshole" the first time, and she did a literal double take, then spent the rest of the time trying desperately, and almost succeeding, to not laugh out loud.
I told him that it was my sincerest wish that she go home that night and tell her family all about it - in Spanish.
Just a quick little story from my old clothing store days. It should give you a pretty good impression of the sort of people I used to have to serve.
So, we had these "tables", which were essentially three layers of shelving. On these we generally put out our stock of bulk, plain items, like coloured T-Shirts and the like. Every shirt had to be folded, and stack by colour and in ascending order. On days where it had been really busy, it could take a looooong while to completely tidy it.
So yeah, I was there organising one of these tables. It was a Saturday afternoon, and we closed in about an hour and a half. I'd been refolding the t-shirts for about an hour. Seriously, the table was an absolute nightmare, like someone had decided to drop some sort of T-Shirt Grenade onto the table.
I was nearly done, on the last side of the bottom shelf, when I noticed someone walking towards me. I inwardly groaned, as I knew what was about to happen. Sure enough, she begins rummaging through the top shelf, moving all around the display to make sure she ensured complete coverage.
After literally 15 mins, she pulled one t-shirt from the bottom of the pile. Then she caught sight of me crouched on the floor, with a small pile of freshly folded t-shirts in my hand.
She looked at me, to the T-Shirts, and back at me. Then she gave me the smuggest, most hateful smirk I've ever seen, and sauntered off.
I have never flipped someone's back off harder.
From Raw Story:
A Waitress in Iowa said that a customer who stiffed her left a note explaining that tips were only for “normal looking people.”
According to The Des Moines Register, Taelor May Beeck posted a photo of the customer’s receipt to Facebook.
In the area designated to write in a tip amount, the customer wrote, “Tips are only for normal looking people.”
Writing on Facebook, Beeck explained that she wanted to give a shout out “to this girl for stiffing me cuz I look like a weirdo~hope she feels better about herself.”
Beeck’s employer, Zombie Burger its parent company Orchestrate Hospitality, said that it stood behind its employees.
“Zombie Burger is a place that celebrates individuality and we think the vast majority of our customers like the fact that everybody there is unique,” Orchestrate spokesperson Chris Diebel said in a statement. “It is a real shame that someone would do this to a person in the service industry. We stand behind our staff and the fact that they celebrate who they are because that is at the core of Zombie Burger’s mission and a large part of what makes that environment special.”
via Raw Story
I work at a gas station chain, so as you can imagine i get my fair share of crazy gamblers. This happened about a month or so ago (surprisingly not during this INSANE Powerball rush).
It's 5 o'clock rush hour, people are streaming into the store one by one. Crowds are accumulating searching for shitty gas station pizza. A man comes in with $200 worth of Powerball... uh oh
Me: "Hello sir, how are you doing today?"
Crazy Lottery Man: [grunts] "Check these for me."
Me: "Oh, we have a self checker so you can just hand me the ones you know are winners." :)
He glares at me, like I'm scum. I can already tell this isn't going to be a good experience.
Crazy Lottery Man: "Well don't you get paid?"
Me: "Ummmm yes sir."
Crazy Lottery Man: "Well then you can check them, huh?"
Me: "I suppose..."
I am accumulating a crazy line, and the other clerk is no where to be seen. I really do not have time to check all these lottery tickets, but I must comply. I go over to the machine scanning each ticket, trying to organize and save the winners for my books. Crazy lottery man looks irritated that it's taking so long, but he doesn't look as irritated as all the customers behind him. I finally finish, and gather the winning tickets.
Me: "All right sir you have..." [starts counting out tickets]
At this point I'm getting nervous with all the irritated customers waiting not so patiently, and I'm starting to feel a little bit of pressure.
Me: "Ummm ok," [counts again until I come up with $36]
Crazy Lottery Man "There is no way that is right, I'm tired of you people trying to short me for your own personal gain. You can count those again."
I wanted to say, 'Look dude my paycheck will be the same, no matter how much you win. I don't give two flying fucks about your lottery winnings, and I have no reason to short you."
Me: [sighs] "Ok." [counts again and get $36 once again.]
Crazy Lottery Man is turning red in the face, he looks like he's ready to strangle me.
Crazy Lottery Man: "Nope there's no way that's it. Are you really that stupid? Count again."
I'm irritated at this point, and feel humiliated. Luckily the other clerk has made themselves present and is attending to the other customers.
Me: [counts again $36]
Crazy lottery man is tomato red, and fuming.
Crazy Lottery Man: "This is ridiculous! Wow did you even graduate high school? You cant even count. Did they just hire you to stand here in look pretty? Cause it seems like you can't do anything else."
At this point I feel shamed and humiliated, other customers are watching. I wanted to say, "Yea fuck face I graduated high school a semester early, with a 4.0," and throw his lottery tickets on the floor.
Me: "Would you like to count them sir?"
Crazy Lottery Man: "I shouldn't have to but you've left me no choice." [he counts them aloud finishing off with $36] "Whatever just give me my money!"
I slowly count out all $36.
My store sells a lot of things to smaller mom, and pop shops so it is not uncommon for one of these small business owners to come in, and buy most if not all of the stock we have on some items.
Now on some items they come in nothing but PDQ displays, and some a company may bring in a special display which was the case here, and it had flashing lights, and an LCD screen built in with a product demo video that played. This was designed to be a long term display.
Well we have a regular small business owner who comes in regularly, and is a pain in our asses. He has been asked that if he needs to purchase bulk items as he does to give us a heads up, and we can order it specifically for him so we can have our normal stock kept. He does not do this, and it pisses us off our District manager does not care because it is large sales, and hollers at us for being out of stock anyways (reads as big ass hat).
Last week we received a long term display in which is super fancy. It is made of sheet steel, and has a built in LCD video display showing product demonstration of the product. If you go into an auto parts store I've seen them elsewhere too it's for a specific name brand headlight restoration kit, and has side sales for paint safe tape, and such.
The customer came in one day, and he looks at the display. He then proceeded to go grab a cart, and dump all of the product into it. We have learned to just tell him we had no other back stock so we can keep a case or two for other customers.
He proceeds to the check out, and buys everything. He makes chit chat talking about how cool the display is, and I agree it is an over the top display. Most displays are your standard cardboard with a flap that outreaches the top with a picture, and name of the product. He goes outside I thought he was out of our hair. I was so wrong.
I head to the stockroom, and grab more of the product to put out on the display. As I come around the corner out of the stockroom the guy has a dolly with the display strapped to it. I jump in front of him asking what he thinks he was doing, and he said. "Since I bought it all I figured I would take the display too." I shook my head wishing I could beat him with a 2x4 instead I told him he could not do that since one it was owned by the vendor, and two we would be getting more of the product.
He protested, and I told him no, and to put it back where it was. He refused to put it back, and he dropped the dolly smashing the display, and broke the LCD which was still playing the video. At this point the manager was watching, and he came over. He started on the guy why he tried stealing the display, and then damaging it.
The manager had me call security, and the store manager. A minute passes by, and security shows up as does the store manager. They take him to the back, and I was told to just stay at the counter as the manager saw everything that happened, and I was not required to go. I use the dolly to move the display back for the time being, and put the product on it.
An hour passed by, and my manager shows back up, and tells me the guy was arrested, and charged with assault. I looked at him, and went what. He said that they took him to the back to make him calm down, and explain that the display was owned by the company that made the product not the store, and they called the company to get pricing for a new display to replace the one he broke, and he would have to pay for it.
When he heard the cost he was not too happy, and hit the manager when he told him that he had to pay for it or he would call the police for destruction of property, and theft. If he paid for the new one he would be allowed to leave with the display he broke though. In the end he was taken off for attempted theft, and we had to contact the police again since they realized the dolly was ours he was trying to haul it off with was one we sell he had grabbed from hardware without paying for it.
I live in a smallish city (which the media has recently been calling “Murder Town” for our high crime rate). My shop is in a rural area with a few new “McMansion” subdivisions near the highway exit. The difference in political, social, and racial views is utterly amazing. It’s as if by driving 25 miles from my reasonably cosmopolitan neighborhood, I travel back to the 1950s in terms of racism and general prejudice.
I am a fourth-generation seller of Doorbell Cosmetics. My mother often comes in to visit my shop and give me a lunch break. We both look fairly good for our ages (I’m 54 and she is 74), which is probably because of good genetics, and not a result of our products. It’s genuinely difficult to tell our ages. And because I have somewhat more exotic features than my mother (inherited from an African-American paternal grandfather), people don’t always realize that she is my parent.
We have an inside joke that whenever I see my mom coming down the aisle toward my shop, I put on a heavy layer of VERY red lipstick. This is because my mother always forbade me to wear red lipstick because I wasn’t old enough. To this day, she still tells me that I should be wearing a nice light pink, just as she did when I was 14 years old.
Anyways, Mom and I were hanging around in the shop when my delivery driver, Kenny K., comes in laughing. “You just lost a customer,” he said. “Because you’re a lesbian.”
I wasn’t insulted (before I was married, I dated both men and women), but I just wondered how the topic came up in the first place. Kenny K. was glad to elaborate. “Mrs. So-and-So said that she saw you putting on makeup for your girlfriend, then giving her a big hug and kiss.”
“I like older women…*MUCH* older women!”, I laughed as my mom kicked me in the shin.