Retail Hell Underground

A Custy Who Can't Tell Golden Arches From Booger King, And A Bitch Who Sits In The Rain While Deciding

Hey, McNug here. Things have been mostly uneventful at Golden Arches (if that isn't an oxymoron, I don't know what is)- until the last week. I've had a couple customers who made me want to bang my head against the register til I could no longer remember them. I apologize in advance if it is a little long.

Firstly- Had a customer a couple mornings ago, in drive-thru. I greeted him, and he said he needed to check the menu first. No problem, I got some stuff done while waiting- five minutes later, he says he's ready:

Custy- Okay, I'll have some french toast sticks.

Me- Excuse me, sir?

Custy- I said I'll have some french toast sticks.

For those of you who work at Golden Arches, you know we don't serve those, so I politely told him:

Me- I'm sorry sir, we don't serve those.

Custy- *pause* Oh. Okay, well, then I'll have a croissanwich.

Okay, first time didn't bother me because hell, it happens. Second time would NOT have bothered me if he didn't stare at the menu for FIVE FUCKING MINUTES!

Luckily, this was when we first opened, so he didn't cause a line.

I told him politely but firmly "Sir, this is "McD"s, not "Booger King."

Meanwhile, my manager had a headset on because apparently he likes to listen to my interaction with the freaks I seem to attract (I HEART my managers lol). At that, I hear him howling up front- evidently, my morning cheerfulness gave way to dead pan. The guy ended up thanking me and driving off. We had a chuckle about it with our SM later on ( my managers are friggin AWESOME ).

Secondly- Yesterday, it was pouring bitches out. Since we weren't busy and our windows have an awning, I was having customers drive up to my window to order so they wouldn't get soaked.

This one woman didn't answer my greetings or my offer for her to drive up and order. At first I figured she didn't hear me so I was pretty much shouting over the downpour, to the point that my mod hollered, "Are you sure your headset's working?"

Finally she starts ordering, then stops. I ask her if that was everything:

Custy- Oh, I'm still deciding.

She starts ordering again, then stops. Once again, I ask if that was everything:

Custy- I'm not done yet, I'm still deciding.

Finally, after racking up a $37 order, she's done. I tell her the total, and that I'll see her at the first window. She pulls up looking like a drowned rat. I feel bad for her until she utters these gems-

Custy- *scowl* You need to cover your menu and speaker.

Ok- first of all, I greeted you three times, shouting each time. Second, I offered for you to drive up so you wouldn't get wet. Thirdly, if you have a big order and not sure what you want, COME THE FUCK INSIDE, YOU CRAZY BITCH! IT' S DRY AND YOU CAN TAKE ALL THE FUCKING TIME IN THE WORLD!!

*deep breath, neck crack*

As you can tell, a major pet peeve of mine is when someone either gets a big order in drive thru cuz then they get pissed when we have to park 'em or doesn't answer me with "Just a minute" if they're not sure what they want.

If they don't eat a lot of fast food, that's fine, I'll wait til they decide. At least acknowledge the poor shit working pit. Anyhoot, after that, My mod took over so I could go on break, and you know, stick my head in the fryer.

Side note, thank you to all my regulars for making this not-morning-person happy and cheerful, even at ungodly o'clock in the morning. You guys ROCK!

I've got other stories but those will be next time. Til then, may all your custies have an inkling of a brain cell.

--McNug

Loud Crusty Silences Entire Store

In this corner we have the huggable lovable Canadia eh. In the other corner we have a not so happy Crusty, unfortunately. The setting of this match takes place at P.C.C.C or Popular Canadian Coffee Chain for those that are unfamiliar. I've never had to deal with crusty's much, but like any other people I treat them as nice as I can.

This story takes place when I have about 3-4 years under my belt so by this point nothing really shakes me off my rocker.

I was working alone on counter, my supervisor was in drive thru and it was just us running the floor. This is a typical night for me, both of us are awesome at the job and we throw in some laughs here and there. I'm on counter happily taking orders when a girl in her late teens orders a sandwich.

Already I'm praying for the customers to please be patient as there is a line up of about 5 people still and it's slowly growing. I run over with her to the sandwich counter and start at it. I'm literally wrapping this ladies completed sandwich in a good amount of time when all I hear from the cash is;

"CAN YOU SEND ONE OF THE OTHER GIRLS DOWN HERE TO THE CASH?!"

Everyone in the store turns to stare at him and I politely call back with a normal tone of voice, because by now the entire restaurant is silent;

"I'm sorry sir I'm just finishing up her sandwich, I will be right there."

"NOT MY PROBLEM!"

In the next few seconds I hand her the sandwich, and she leans over and whispers; "Good luck..."

I nod with a smile and go right into it. The next orders are punched out in under 30 seconds. I get to the customer, and by now he's agitated.

"Large double double WITH MILK."

"Yes sir-"

"Make sure it's with MILK NOT CREAM!"

Okay normally I'm completely nice, this guy has been a complete ass. So I did a little revenge of my own. A common mistake that I've seen TONS of workers do at other branches. Not stirring coffee. I swirled it around with the spoon and put a lid on it. With the biggest smile I could give I handed it to him. What happens is if the coffee isn't stirred you end up with a huge pile of sugar at the bottom. Making it very sweet. I've never seen this guy before so I never expected to see him again. Guess again.

I spotted him in the line up again about a few days later and this time when he came up he gave me a knowing smile and happily placed his order which I gladly made correctly. Since then he requested me when I was on shift to personally make him his coffee if someone didn't make it to his standards. We have had friendly conversations and he became a regular at the store. I looked forward to seeing him everytime he came in and he would always have the biggest smile. A complete 180 from that night. Or maybe that swirl really was all his drink needed...

WARNING: Attempting revenge on a crusty is not recommended. I got lucky with a 1 in a million chance.

--Canadia

Four Crustys In Four Hours, A Miserable Record

I'm too tired to think of a name right now so just call me Exhausted Aussie. I work at a fairly small supermarket that belongs to one of the largest chains in Australia. Between what happened at the store around the corner from mine last night, and what happened at my store tonight, I'm almost wishing I could just quit. Unfortunately, bills must be paid.

On Thursday night, the supermarket around the corner from where I was working was robbed by a man with a sawn-off shotgun, at 10.50, just ten minutes before they closed. No one was hurt, thankfully, but the man did get away and still hasn't been found. I was working when it happened and I have to say, I'm really glad that all we got were 4 bogans flashing people in the carpark.

So now (and for at least a week) we get a security guard at night. We close at midnight so it kind of makes me feel a little better but somehow I don't think he could do much if we do get held up. Thankfully nothing like that happened tonight but I'm closing Saturday and Sunday so I'm just hoping it stays that way.

Of course just because we weren't held up doesn't mean we didn't have our share of crustys.

First custy (Angry Ticket Man), came up to the service desk with a suspended sale, handed it to me and asked for $35 cash out. Angry Ticket Man didn't say anything else so naturally I just assumed that the other register must have been low in cash. I put the transaction through, gave him the cash out and waited for him to leave. Instead he stared at me and says "Where are my tickets?"

Apparently he had asked for two tickets at the first register and was sent to me as they can only be sold at the service desk. I explained that I hadn't realised he wanted any tickets and said I'd ring them through. Then explained it again as he didn't seem to understand.

Finally I scan the tickets and gave him the total.

To which Angry Ticket Man said "Can't you just do one transaction. I don't want to be charged a fee again."

It took ages but I finally got him to understand that the only way to do that would be to refund everything and put it all through again. Of course if his bank charges a fee for each transaction, that would probably just cost him more.

And of course I can't refund a cash out anyway. So either way it would still wind up as two transactions. Angry Ticket Man grumpily paid for the tickets (using the cash out as his card was declined when he tried to use it again) and left. Still pissed off, of course.

I'm really not sure why he thought the original $42.75 transaction (6.75 + $35 cash out) would include $30 worth of tickets.

Anyway, another hour or so of watching the self checkouts, and I see three people in their early twenties come in. Immediately I get the feeling that they aren't exactly upstanding citizens, so when they headed down the health and beauty aisle, I went and played with the drink fridge nearby so that I could watch them. Sure enough, one of the girls picked up a box of hair dye and as they walked towards the opposite end of the aisle it "magically" disappeared from the girl's hand. I keep an eye on them and tell the security guard that they are shoplifters.

What's funny, though, is that what made them put the dye down was actually the Duty Manager. He walked past the NATs, checking the aisles for out of place stock and, feeling guilty, they assumed he was watching them and promptly dropped the hair dye on the end of an aisle. DM picked it up to put it back where it belonged, and one of the girls got pissed and accused DM of following them (which just confused him) then they all stalked out of the shop. I checked their bags as the left but couldn't see anything.

Of course they probably went straight to another store. Bad night to try shoplifting in this town though, considering we're all a bit jumpy, worrying about another robbery occuring.

A short while later, yet another crusty (Bad Mum) was at the service desk and, as I walked up, clearly asked her son what type of cigarettes he wanted. As he went to walk away, I said I'd need to see his ID as he looked under 25 (looked under 18 actually). Bad Mum got extremely defensive and said that she was buying them so I had to sell the cigs to her. Then said she would just go buy them from somewhere else if I didn't. As I explained that it is illegal to sell or provide tobacco products to people under 18, her son told me to shut up and they both walked into the store to buy other stuff.

DM came up to ask me what had happened but, as I was explaining, they both came back to the front of the store and went to put their drinks through the self checkouts. Overhearing what we were talking about, Bad Mum told us that she's "37 years old, and his mum and its none of our damn business if she wants to buy cigarettes and share them with her son."

The idiot then got pissed off at the self checkout as she couldn't seem to figure out the whole scan-an-item-and-place-it-in-the-bagging-area process. Three items and I had to explain after each that they needed to be placed in the bagging area. I guess she didn't understand that what needs to happen for one item needs to happen for the other. Of course, Bad Mum got more angry with each word I said. They both stormed out swearing.

The last grumpy custy (Yoghurt Man) of the night started off reasonable but changed quickly. He came through my register 15 mins before closing time. Everything seemed to go fine, he paid and I continued to serve the other custys lined up.

However, instead of leaving, Yoghurt Man stood and stared at his receipt. He was patient and waited until the last custy had gone, then calmly claimed that the yoghurt was supposed to be $5 not $6.30. DM went to check the price and once again the man waited fairly patiently. When DM came back with the ticket, he told me that the $5 yoghurt was actually next to the one the man bought but, as the ticket was very close to the $6.30 yoghurt, I should just refund the extra $1.30.

I turned to explain it to the Yoghurt Man and got as far as "The yoghurt is actually $6.30, but…" before he got angry and started talking over me saying that we "have to give it to him for $5 because the ticket said $5."

The idiot wouldn't let me say another word, just kept talking over me. DM finally got him to partially listen to him, but the crusty was still arguing as I walked to the service desk to do the refund.

After he'd finally left Peter said that the whole time I refunding the yoghurt, the man was still complaining. DM kept trying to explain that there was no problem and he would get the refund, but the crusty just responded that, "It was our problem."

Thankfully by that point we were closing and I got to leave. And the kicker, I actually only worked for four hours tonight! So thats one set of crustys for each hour. Please just let the next two nights go more smoothly! For me and all the other retail slaves stuck working.

OK. End of rant. Its late and I'm going to bed.

--Exhausted Aussie

Hell Memories From A Ticket Selling Call Center

From: The Dormouse

This story is a little dated, as my last shift worked at the call center of a ticket monopoly we all love to hate and rhymes with "hamster" was in September of 2011 and I officially quit in December 2011. But I spent over 10 years there, so the stupidity I encountered was well worth the wait, you'll see.

I started working at Event Hamster in the summer of 2001, when I was 18. I thought it was only my student job while getting my degree. A literature degree.

So, you guessed it right, it soon became my full-time job. I stayed there so long for many reasons: lack of stable jobs in my field (I did combine it with a teacher-assistant contract for a couple semesters), the ability to make my own schedule every week (so no evenings or week-ends unless I wanted to), lack of better jobs (after all, it was still preferable to face-to-face retail), and lots of personal problems taking away the energy a person in her 20s is supposed to have to make her career move forward.

At 29, I was finally hired for an entry-level job in a government agency, after being on lists for years and never getting a call until that day. I'm still in a call center, but the callers are a lot nicer because they see me as an authority, not some ticket-crapping monkey whose sole purpose is to serve them.

Some of you may know that EventHamster is one of the most hated companies in North America, with its high service fees and shows that are sold out to scalpers 2 seconds after they went on sale. Probably each of you has at least one ticket-buying horror story involving them.

I did not agree with most of their policies, but as a phone monkey I couldn't do anything but follow them. So even if I was going above and beyond to give stellar service, custys were fuming before I even had the time to finish my intro: first the website was down, then they had navigated through the voice recognition system which didn't work either, to finally wait 30 minutes on hold to talk to a human from our ever shrinking staff. Sometimes, they were also dialing the number of the venue where they wanted to see the show, hoping not to do business with us. But because the venue's box office was closed, they were transferred to us. So no matter what we said, no matter how nice we were, most custys were angry to the point of throwing a tantrum as soon as they heard the name Event Hamster.

Also, it seemed that because they were buying entertainment, they had turned their brains off before calling. These were daily occurrences:

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Me: Your purchase is done, here is your confirmation number: 00-00000.

Custy: So I have to call that phone number? Why?

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Custy: I'd like 2 tix for (concert).

Me: OK...the best we have is on the 2nd balcony, row 10, seat 15 & 16

Custy: Are there any on the floor in the front row?

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Custy: I want 2 tickets for (concert).

Me: Unfortunately, it looks like all we have is scattered singles.

Custy: Oh no! Do you have 2 singles that are scattered together?

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Me: (canned greeting)

Custy: 2 tickets!

Me: Ok, for which event?

Custy: Your show! Tonight!

Me: In which venue and which city ma'am?

Custy: Your show! The one you just announced on TV!

Me: We sell hundreds of venues in every US state and Canadian province here, so I'm going to need some information so I know what you want to see. If I don't have at least a venue name and date, I can't really help you.

Custy: But you people just announced it on TV!

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Custy: My show is tomorrow and I chose the "will-call" option... but you people have not called me yet!

Me: Will-call is another word for box office. You have to pick up your tickets at (venue)'s box office an hour before showtime.

Custy: Why not just say that?

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Me: Your total will be $xxx.xx. We accept Mastercard, Visa, and American Express. Which card will you be using?

Custy : Credit card? I don't have a credit card. I thought this was "EventHamster Charge-By-Phone"!

Me: It is.

Custy : Well I thought it meant you could charge your tickets to the phone bill.

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Me: Your seat is on the 7th row, in the center...

Caller: Center? What does that mean?

Me: It means in the middle. Not on the side.

Caller: Oh, so you don't have any that are centered.

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Me: I'm sorry, I don't have first row seats left for any Chipmunks On Ice representation. I do have 2nd row on (date).

Momzilla custy: But you don't understand! I'm going there with MY CHILD!

(I hope so, lady. I hope so.)

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Me: Ok, the best tickets we have are for the Sunday 5 o'clock show.

Custy: Can't you change the time for 6 instead?

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This one was a daily occurence in my early years there, when many people were not yet Internet-litterate. But it still happened from time to time at the end, mainly from callers who sounded very elderly.

Custy: What good shows are there in (city) tonight?

Me: Ok, what would you like to see. A music show? A play? Sports?

Custy: I don't know, isn't that your job to know what's good?

Me: Actually, not really. We at StubHamster are here only to take your order when you already know which show you would like to see. We sell too many events in too many cities to be qualified to make suggestions. (City) is big and there are many things going on. May I suggest you call their tourism office at 000-0000? They know every event, including ones I may not have listed here because they are free or in independent venues. They will even be able to suggest a restaurant to go before your event!

Custy: But isn't that your job to know what I want?

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This one had us LOLing for days afterwards.

Custy: I would like to have my tickets reprinted please.

Me: Ok, were they stolen, lost, or never arrived in the mail?

Custy: Neither. They were a surprise for my wife's birthday, and I hid them in the toaster so she would see them in the morning before making her toast. She didn't see them. And she made her toast.

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This one took place in 2003 during the war in Iraq.

Custy: Before I buy, I need to know, is the Cirque Du Soleil from France?

Me: No. The founder is a French-Canadian from Quebec, and their artists are from all over the world.

Custy: You people should be ashamed of yourselves! If it wasn't of us, you'd be speaking German! *click*

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Custy: Do you know if it's going to rain on (date) in (city where baseball game is)?

Me: If you give me a second, I can look it up on the weather network's website...

Custy: Oh, I already did. I figured you might know something more.

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Other stuff I had to put up with daily:

- Custy freaking out about privacy when we ask for his phone number and e-mail... after he willingly and cheerfully gave us his credit card number.

- Custy saying they had some coupon (during my last couple years there, when things like Groupon became commonplace) without a code, and throwing tantrums when we said it was only exchangeable in person. Sorry, teleportation has not been invented yet. My fault.

- Asking for 1st row centered for a Saturday night show that same day, and not understanding why his request was impossible to fulfill.

- Calling me an incompetent because I didn't know the exact temperature inside a specific venue, or how many inches wide were the seats.

- Custy making you hear their children cry on the phone when a show like Justin Bieber or Selena Gomez was sold out.

- When a popular event was going on sale at noon, customers calling at 11:30 and asking to be put on hold for 30 minutes, and getting angry when we said we weren't allowed to do so. We weren't even allowed to put them on hold at 11:59.

- During those same sales, customers calling at around 11:50 and asking us questions about tons of random shows just to stay on the line because they knew we weren't allow to put them on hold. We could see what their little game was, but they were asking legitimate questions about shows already on sale, so we couldn't hang up.

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And now, as a conclusion, some of the priceless reactions I got when I announced an event was sold out:

- "Why?"

- "Even if we're just 2?"

- "You say that because you don't want to work."

- "But it's for a date! I guess you don't want me to get any lovin' tonight 'cause you're jealous."

- "But I'm an African prince!"

- "Can't you do a little special for me?"

- "But my husband is a doctor!"

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--The Dormouse

Scary Waterpark Dive

Crusty Wants A Shake From A Broken Shake Machine

Hello! Not really sure how to start this off other than awkwardly, so here it goes. I'm a long time reader, first time poster, and I've finally worked up the nerve to add onto the history of this sanctuary. For the time being, I work in fast food and I am in charge (given free reign) of the graveyard/swing shifts. Everyone calls me Mom Squad.

My stories today involve one common denominator, and that is our shake machine. See, about two weeks ago, our shake machine broke. No one knew how, or why, or who's shift, but it did. It began to cry horribly when powered on and screeched if you tried to dispense any shake mix from it. Seeing as the brokenness of it was beyond my capabilities of fixing (as I am, for some reason, know all for the appliances), we called the manufacturer for some help. Apparently, the repairman informed me during his visit, the machine was broken.

Really.

The unfortunate thing, though, was that he didn't have the part in stock to fix it. It would take another week before he did have it, and a day or two more to fix it. With a sigh, a headache already forming, I signed the notice, clipped it to the status board in the office and went about my shift after posting a big, BOLD notice on the machine. It simply stated, "I'M BUSTED, SORRY FOR THE INCONVENIENCE."

Not half an hour into my shift, two young ladies (Lady A and Lady B) walk in and take a moment to decide their poison. I was pleasantly surprised when I arrived at the counter to serve them, as Lady B asked for a shake, only to be quickly caught by Lady A.

Lady B: "So, you can't sell any shakes at all?"

Lady A: "[Lady B], hon, there's a big ass sign that says it right there. Busted. Bust. Ed. Broken."

Lady B: "I just wanted to make sure."

Because, sure, maybe it is every day that we post a sign up saying something is broken, just so we don't have to serve you. But we'll immediately tell the truth if you ask.

In any case, Lady B wants nothing, but Lady A apologizes, orders a kid's meal for herself (she told me that) and asked for a smoothie instead. Relieved that I wasn't about to have a customer throw a tantrum, I started the smoothie process, only to have three other customers walk in, a woman and two guys.

Immediately, one of them comes right up to the counter as I turn around to serve him and states, without a stutter, "Can I have three medium chocolate shakes?"

I blink, then shake my head.

Me: "Unfortunately, no. We only have regular and large, but our shake machine is down."

Guy 1: "Are you sure?"

Me: *leans over and points to the sign behind her* "Very. Anything else I can get you?"

Before he can answer me, I notice that Lady A has returned for her smoothie (now melting on the counter, my bad) and Guy 1's buddy has come up to my counter, both hands on the surface, and slightly red faced.

Guy 2: "Busted? What do you mean busted?

Me: "Busted...? As in... it's broken? Like, I don't know what happened, a part broke and it won't keep temp."

Guy 2: *gives an angry huff* "Don't you have a second one? What's that right there?" *points to our smoothie machine*

Me: "Smoothies. They're pretty awesome. Not as thick, but still good. Yeah. Still good."

Lady A had apparently caught my Lilo and Stitch reference and begins to snicker behind my irate customers. I offer her a quick smile, apologetic, and silently decide to offer her a coupon for the wait and forgotten smoothie.

Guy 1 has now turned around and faces the female that walked in with them, I suppose to discuss the change of plans, but Guy 2 isn't ready to let this go.

Guy 2: "Well, what do we get now?"

Me: "Um... a smoothie?"

Guy 2: *snorts* "No, we don't want smoothies. I drove all this way to get a SHAKE. Specifically. That's all I wanted was a shake."

Me: "Well... I can give you a coupon, and there's two other [sister restaurants] that have working shake machines within five miles of us."

Guy 2: "NO, you're not listening. I came HERE. I don't want to go to any other [restaurant]. You can't just give me a coupon for my inconvenience, I want my shake or you give me something else for free."

Now, at my restaurant, we do have this weirdo policy called "Yes to the Guest," but thankfully we apply it under the conditions of A) The order was wrong (doesn't matter who's fault), so we replace the accident, B) You're dissatisfied with your item (for any reason), and C) We overcharged you by accident. As he fell under none of these conditions, I squared my shoulders and put on my best Mom Face.

I had been at this restaurant long enough that I had gone through 3 store managers, and the current one supported the decisions made by his shift managers (unless they were incredibly stupid). Suffice to say, I felt empowered.

Me: "Sorry, store policy states replacements happen because of A, B, and C. You haven't bought anything and though unfortunate that you came all this way down for one item, that item is served by another of our sister's not two miles away. I can give you a coupon for half off, otherwise, I am unable to ring up anything and give it to you for free. If I do, I will need your name and phone number."

Guy 2: "No, you can't ask for a customers name and number, that's illegal, that's identify theft."

Lady A: "Excuse me, you do realize that your credit card gives them more information than that, right? And she can take your name from your card unless you have the cash? She told you what she can do, take it or leave it, pal."

Guy 2: "Look, I don't see how that broken machine is my problem. I want my shakes."

Lady A: "And I want my smoothie that you've interrupted her making. You're being an entitled ass."

With that, the group of three head out, but not before flipping me off. Funny part, though, was that my heroine returned the favor with a double finger action and a smile. She made my night, and I refunded her order, upgraded her meal, and sent her with as many coupons as I could safely stuff into her lunch bag.

May all your customers be this wickedly awesome,

--Mom Squad

Psycho Custy Throws Tantrum Over Potato, Then Comes Back Later And Surprises Staff

Hiya RHU, I'm yet another in a long list of long-time-lurker, first-time-posters. I guess since I worked at a Wendy's, you can just call me Where'sTheBeef.

I have a ridiculous amount of stories fit for RHU (seriously, I've found my people) but this particular one comes from my last few weeks working at a Wendy's. It is sort of long, but I think worth the read. Little bit of background; I was what they refer to as a 'Team Leader', which is basically the last rung on the management ladder. I would get stuck up front with the regular employees while the real (aka salary) managers sat in the office eating, when one of them happened to be on shift with me. Since I was more responsible than some of my fellow Team Leads, I often got left alone to run shifts by myself (which Team Leads were not supposed to do.) This happened while I was on shift alone, as the only manager.

A well dressed man came in and ordered quite a bit of food fairly late in the evening (around 8:30pm). He was more or less polite, and it didn't take us long to get his food together. Seems like a forgettable experience, right?

It was, until nearly an hour later he came in, fuming, ranting, raving and just generally being a complete crusty. He cuts in front of the line of customers (a group of young-ish, built outdoorsy guys) and literally throws an old baked potato at my cashier's face. By the time I make my way from the drive thru (like, 4 feet away) he already has my cashier in tears.

I excuse her to the back to calm down and take over the conversation like the good fast-food robot I am. "I'm sorry sir, I'm the manager on duty. What seems to be the problem?" I ask, politely even though I really want to kick him out for making my sweet cashier (lets just call her Sugar, because she was a total sweetheart) cry.

"I JUST ordered this potato, look at it? Would you eat this? Do you expect me to feed this to my family? This is disgusting! What are you going to do about this!?"

Now, if you've ever been to a Wendy's you may know that they sell baked potatoes. Unlike some places that might microwave their potatoes, Wendy's actually does bake them - and they take a freakin' hour to bake, so we really had to plan the numbers ahead of time. That late at night, we stopped cooking potatoes because they usually just went bad, they didn't sell well at night. So by the time the crusty has come back, we didn't have any left.

Attempting to salvage the situation, I calmly look to the crusty's potato (which is pretty black and nasty, but.. it's been an HOUR!) and say "Well, sir, I'm sorry but we don't have any potatoes left. We don't cook them this late at night. I will, of course, be happy to refund the cost of the potato and get you a different side in place. Would you like french fries?"

Pretty good so far; I've kept my cool and not flown off the handle.

Then it goes from bad to worse, crusty explodes. "What do you mean you don't have any potatoes? I JUST BOUGHT THIS. I DON'T WANT YOUR NASTY FRIES. I AM GOING TO SUE YOU FOR TRYING TO POISON MY FAMILY. I AM GOING TO SUE YOU. I AM GOING TO SUE THIS COMPANY. I WILL OWN YOU."

This is where I start to lose my cool. I grab the receipt that he threw at Sugar with the potato, and hold it up for him to see, and in a very cold tone of voice; "You ordered this an HOUR ago. I'm sorry, but I do not have magical food that will stay good forever. You failed to consume the food in a reasonable amount of time. I cannot be held responsible because you let it go bad. I offered you replacements, and a refund. I don't know what you expect me to do for you."

Cue more ranting and raving about suing me, wanting my name and corporates number. Then crusty crosses my ultimate line. He gets millimeters from my face (leaning over the counter) and yells so vehemently he gets spit on me. That's it for me. "Sir, the door is right there. You have ten seconds to leave my establishment before I call the police and have you arrested. You spit on me, and that is considered assault. I WILL press charges. My name is WHERE'STHEBEEF, the number for corporate can be found on our website - Oh, and by the way, you can't sue me because you let your food go bad. Now. Leave."

Apparently the buff outdoorsy customers behind him thought he was being out of line as well, because when I mentioned the police they cheered and started pelting him with coins. "Really dude? Over a potato? Here's your refund!"

Crusty leaves, they smile at me and are freakin' awesome customers, and the night gets a little better. Seeing that man get hit with change was awazing. So... end of story? Not hardly.

Fast forward 3 weeks, and I am working drive through while an actual salary manager is running the floor. I've put in my 2-weeks notice (because I'm moving, but also because that place was greasy hell) so my give-a-fuck-o-meter is pretty damn low.

Sugar calls over the headset; "Hey Where'sTheBeef... a customer wants you up front.."

She sounds kinda terrified, and all of the other employee's freeze. I walk out front and guess who is standing there? Yeah, you guessed it. Crusty Potato Jerk. I walk up, very cautious and ready for another scene when he shocks me in to utter silence.

"I wanted to apologize for my behavior a few weeks ago. It was completely inappropriate, and I feel terrible. I know that my actions were reprehensible and I acted like a spoiled child. I just wanted to say that I am very sorry, I was completely in the wrong." He then offers his hand, for a handshake.

I have absolutely nothing to say at all. Did a crusty just.. apologize? What? Every single employee was just as stunned as I was; most of them had been working the night he'd made his scene. Later on, Sugar tells me he has apologized to her as well, just before she called me to the front. Apparently crustys can see the error of their ways.

--Where'sTheBeef

Swim Meet Horde Swarms Small Sports Charity Place

Hey all, it's Kiddo!

Okay so to go ahead and confess: I've only had one retail job, for a short period of time, and unfortunately can't share the two good stories from it because they're a little too specific. As in, any involved/heard about it could read it and bust me. I've been job hunting, but no real luck on that front, typical crap of wanting someone with more experience and no one's willing to hire a newbie.

Anyway, I have been doing volunteer work for a local charity that's for special needs kids. It's sports themed and all inclusive. It's been in the off season for a while (we follow normal sport schedules more or less), so I feel it's safe to share some stories!

I work the merch table where I try to get people to buy our t-shirts, which are our main source of income. We get a lot of volunteers so that's my main customer base. I usually have no problem, aside from overdone explanations about why they can't buy a shirt just then or brush offs that range from 'Maybe later' to 'I like last year's shirt better'. I have had a couple people try to get me to break large bills for them early in the day when I have no way of doing so which either led to me managing to upsell them to a second shirt or they just left.

The attendees are a pretty okay group and so are the players. The only problems we normally have are when we're short volunteers and have to pull from the stands (we have a buddy system) or when a player gets frustrated for x reason and won't calm down.

Unfortunately, our play field neighbors an enclosed swimming pool (literally, they are side by side) and that's where this happened last summer.

So on this day, we're set up, ready to begin the games and hello, there's this large crowd of people. No problem, they're volunteers/attendees right? Nope. They're there for a swim meet that many of us had no idea about. Now, the enclosed pool isn't large enough for the whole crowd, so many of them are outside and wandering around, therefore encroaching into our space. Yes, encroaching.

They set up chairs in otherwise decorative space with many of them spilling over into the sidewalks, they hogged our bathrooms and constantly used our snack bar. Now, the snack bar thing shouldn't have been a problem (extra money and all that) but the snack girl, C, and I are friends and holy crap the things she told me afterwards. They whined at her about our 'lack of options' (no crap there's a lack, it's a SNACK BAR), kept changing their minds half-way through orders and poor C got constantly pestered about the nutritional crap of the snacks throughout all of this. The very snacks that have all that info printed on the packaging, but hey, that would require reading right?

I didn't fare too well myself either. A lot of the swim meet people kept wandering over to my table, which happens to be right next to our volunteer sign in table where we have a lot of info stuff placed. They didn't buy any shirts, kept asking what we were doing here/if we were there for the swim meet despite so many indicators otherwise and one woman even argued with me for a good ten minutes in a fashion that literally went:

'Hi, are these schedules for the swim meet?'

'No ma'am, they're for our games'

'Oh, well do you have any for the swim meet?'

'No, we don't.'

'Well what about these right here?' (rinse and repeat)

Thankfully they haven't come back yet, so maybe that one experience was all that they needed. Trust me, they won't be missed.

The one regret I have working here are the idiots we come across, but that's for a later story, especially since one still makes me extremely pissed.

--Kiddo

Random Act of Retail Kindness: Costco Custy Makes Austic Boy's Day

The boy in the superman cape was attracted to this Costco custy's batman shirt. The custy posted this pic on reddit with the title, "Why? Because he's 6, has autism, and he asked me to. Nuff said."

 

Random Act of Retail Kindness: Custy Leaves $446 Tip For Hardworking Waitress

Gallon Smashing Karma

 

Awesome Manager Puts His Foot Down To After Hours Dad

Hello RHU,

(Discovering RHU was like discovering a support group of other damned souls, condemned to wander the earth with "Do you work here?" echoing into eternity.)

Since several of my stories revolve around my years in an ice rink, I'll dub myself FrozenTerror.

I was hired near the end of the hockey season, so my training was done on the fly. Basically, I was a warm body who could do menial tasks, and if I could actually last, that was an added (and unexpected bonus).

With the hockey season tapering down, the rink was closing down earlier in the day than usual. On one Saturday, I was there with two others about 20 minutes after the last event came off the ice. Our Zamboni driver was doing a final resurfacing before closing up, I was out front putting rental skates away, and the manager on duty (MoD) was finalizing office work.

There was a table in the lobby that faced a TV, and a man and his son (about 10 years old) were watching a basketball game while eating pizza and drinking pop. I asked if they were going to be heading out soon since we were closing up, and the dad said, "Right as soon as the game ends."

I glanced up at the TV and saw that there were 11 minutes left in the 2nd quarter. Yeah, that wasn't going to fly.

MoD came out of the office to ask me something, and saw the guy and the kid sitting there. He asked me what they were doing, and I repeated the conversation that we'd just had.

MoD says, "Come with me," and we go over to where they were sitting.

MoD looks down at the kid and says, "Hey buddy, do you want a refill?"

The kid said, "Sure!", and MoD told me to take the kid and refill his cup. I take the kid over to the concession stand, refill the cup, and hand it to the kid.

No sooner is it in his hands than his dad grabs him and hustles him out the front door, muttering under his breath the whole time. The front doors slam, and MoD yells across the lobby that, "That took care of that!"

I asked him what had just happened, and he recounted the following conversation to me:

MoD: So how long are you staying?

Dad: Until the end of the game. Hey, can I get a refill too?

MoD: No.

Dad: Why not?

MoD: I'm not a waiter, and we're closed anyway.

Dad: Why'd you give my kid a refill?

MoD: Because I didn't want him standing right here while I tell you to get the fuck outta here!

That's when the dad stood up, grabbed the pizza and his kid, and left.

--FrozenTerror

A Twofer About Entitled Bitches Being Sarcastic And A Delusional Hag

Hi, RHU! I've been reading the stories for many months now but, due to pure magical luck, I've never had anything to post. I was going for a three year 'no retail horror stories' streak up until a few weeks ago, and then again yesterday. I don't have a name, and I don't think I'll bother coining one, because apart from these two incidents the only real crusties we get are a few native thieves and druggies.

I work in a smallish retail store. It's a huge company, but my particular store is a fairly decent sized shop in a mall. We get incredibly busy during peak times, i.e. Thursday nights and weekends, and normally we'd have four people on. However, the state manager decided a few months back that our hours would be cut way back, and now on a Thursday night we only have two people on.

The particular Thursday night when this first story occurred it was myself and the assistant manager. She was chained to the front of the store greeting people and doing bag checks, so I was left to run the tills and the changerooms. I'd been at the till for about 20 minutes due to there being a big line. There was also a line at the changerooms, but I knew that three of the five changerooms were unlocked so I wasn't paying much attention to it.

When I got to a couple of middle aged ladies in my line, they not so kindly asked if I would open up another changeroom. I was a bit annoyed that they were wasting my time because they couldn't be bothered waiting, but I happily agreed and walked over. I unlocked the fourth room, the fifth being full of stock due to our tiny backroom already being full, and noticed that the line at tills was huge again, so I quickly turned to go back to it. That's when the issue started.

"God, the service here is just SO great!"

"I know! The workers here are just SO attentive!"

The two women proceeded to mock me, as if I had purposefully created a huge mob of people to create lines within the store and made them wait. Then, laughing, they dumped their clothes and left the store. These women had nothing better to do with their time than dragging the overworked sales girl behind the till from her job, mock her, and then walk out. I was confused, but the incident didn't affect me and I went back to work.

This next one happened only yesterday. Again there were two people on but it was a Tuesday afternoon and we were really quiet. I was down the front unpacking stock when a middle aged lady and what I'm assuming was her elderly mother walked in.

"Do you have any more of that leather jacket?"

The jacket in question sells like hot cakes and is actually pleather, so it's quite cheap. We only had two left and they were both on mannequins.

"No, sorry. Those are the only two left."

"Oh, do you have any smalls?"

I checked the closest mannequin; it was a large. The mannequin in the window was wearing a medium.

"We've only got a large and a medium, sorry."

"Can I try the medium?"

"Yeah, sure." I turned and walked towards the mannequin. Just as I had reached the mannequin and was figuring out the best way to take the jacket off, the woman started screaming at me.

"Well, F*** YOU TOO! I can't BELIEVE you'd have such BAD ATTITUDE!!"

This woman was full on screaming, at the top of the lungs, for reasons I didn't understand. Due to some stuff in my past I can't handle being yelled at and I was already nearly in tears.

"I don't know what I've done..."

"What did you say to me as you were at the mannequin?!!"

"I... I didn't say anything."

"Oh, SURE!"

She continued to rant about how rude I was and demanding to speak to a manager and how this was my job and I shouldn't say such bad things about having to do my job until the other girl working came over and I escaped to the back room. I still have no idea what made her start yelling.

She was accusing me of saying something to her, but I was several meters away and facing away from her, and our music is really loud, so even if I had muttered something there's no way she could have seen or heard it. That really shook me up and I couldn't leave the back room until she'd left the store.

She didn't even end up buying the jacket.

That's all for now, and hopefully forever. But I don't think I'd be so lucky as to go another almost three years without crazy custies.

--RHUer

Hotel Hell: The Not-So-Glamorous Life Of A Housekeeper Part 2

StarShoes here, with a few more stories from Hotel Hell!

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The Construction Worker

This was on my third day of work. I’m in Indiana, so the two seasons are winter and road construction. It’s finally gotten warm, so construction is back in full swing.

The workers, for their own convenience, tend to rent hotel rooms near the stretch of highway they’re working on. There’s about a mile of work between the exit for my hotel and the next exit, and the hotels at my exit are a lot less seedy.

Construction workers are pretty cool, they usually just come in, drink, sleep, shower, and go back to work. My partner and I ended up cleaning one of the workers’ rooms, and it grossed me out a little but wasn’t unmanageable.

Because I’m not trained on bathrooms yet, I took care of all of the main room. On one nightstand was a tray with two complete, mostly uneaten breakfasts from the breakfast bar in the lobby. On the other was a half empty tall can of Budweiser and a cup of what looked like settled raw egg. That was the point where I stopped asking questions.

I’m taking the food to the garbage when my partner goes “That’s fucking disgusting” from the bathroom. Now, we had already dealt with The Dog People at this point, so I was worried. They hadn’t even warranted an f-bomb, and they left a huge mess.

So I poked my head in the door. There was almost a solid inch of shampoo/soap/mud sludge at the bottom of the tub. My partner explained that the sticky mud generated by the road work tends to do this, but this was the most she had ever seen. By the time she was done, you couldn’t even tell anything had been in the tub.

The last thing I did was take out the trash from the room, and I’ll be damned if I didn’t pick up one of the clear bags and see a giant pair of leopard print panties shoved down to the bottom. That was the point where I swore I would never speculate again.

-------------------------

Party Guy

Booze is kind of a rampant thing at hotels. Lots of people rent rooms so they can come get drunk. Sometimes they leave what’s left in lieu of a tip, and one of the male housekeepers scored an entire fifth of cherry vodka after cleaning up empties for a couple days.

Obviously it’s not a new thing to come into a room and see a bunch of empty cans or bottles around. I’ve gotten to the point where I can tell if we’ll find any based on how the room smells when I walk in. Well, we were in charge of a room that was labeled a “stay” on our list, but when we opened the door it looked almost untouched.

The bed had been slept in, but the covers had only been pulled back enough for someone to slip in and out of the bed. There were about 12 empty beer cans around the room and the empty box of a case of Miller High Life, but no suitcase or used glasses or any personal possessions whatsoever.

We called our supervisor down to ask whether the guy had checked out and she was like “Did you check the closet?”

We had. So she had us start cleaning while she looked for signs of life. She opened the top drawer of the dresser, announced that it was half-full of underwear, and that I should check the mini fridge. I opened the door and found 23 untouched cans of Miller High Life and a full, unopened bottle of Dewar’s.

Underwear and booze. Party hard.

-------------------------

The Bloody Duvet

Turns out men and women are completely equal on their ability to trash a room. This was the same day as Party Guy.

My partner and I were cleaning a newly vacant room so it could be rented out again. I was making the bed, but when I flipped the duvet over there were spots of blood all over a big section of it. It wasn’t just light spots; it was like someone with open wounds had turned themself into a human burrito for the night. I wondered if maybe the woman who had rented the room had miscalculated her period, but it wasn’t the right kind of pattern.

I called my partner over and expressed my concern that blood would be going back onto a clean bed. She was just as put off as I was at the idea and I got to throw a duvet down two floors of laundry chute. Besides the bloody duvet, there were coffee cups covered in lipstick sitting all over the room, coffee stains on a bunch of things, a makeup ring around the inside of the bathroom sink, makeup smeared on the bathroom counter, and a ton of long hair all over everything.

This definitely made me realize my job is not very glamorous.

-------------------------

Tips

When you travel, it’s courtesy to leave a tip for the people who clean your room, especially if you trash and dash. The recommended rate is $1/night/person. I’ve seen a $0.05 tip, an $0.83 tip, and one kind soul who actually left us a dollar in quarters for his one night stay, which is really nice because those transfer into the vending machine easier.

I have not seen any other tips in any other rooms. Zero tips.

Supposedly Bacon Lingerie Lady tips really highly because leaving her stuff out for us to deal with is speculated to be her “thing”, but I haven’t seen it yet. And if you leave us something you wouldn’t deal with yourself, at least leave a note warning us.

--StarShoes

Hotell Hell: The Not-So-Glamorous Life Of A Housekeeper

I'm the girl who worked with tweakers at Spencer's, but I got a new job as a housekeeper at a hotel. I've only been working for four days, but I'm already getting a ton of weird stories.

I guess you can call me StarShoes, because I have a pair of nurses' shoes covered in a galaxy pattern that I wear to work since I'm on my feet for 8 hours.

-------------------------

Bacon/Lingerie Lady

This one was actually on my first day of work. I guess this lady is a regular, and she comes in a couple times a month with her dude friend.

She leaves all her lingerie spread all over the bed in a way that someone HAS to pick it up (we’re not supposed to touch personal items on the bed unless they’re in the way and then we’re just supposed to move them to the side).

When the other newbie and I went in to clean, the room just reeked of vagina and bacon. It’s not a pretty smell. I had to open the top drawer to check if she had an extra pillow, but apparently she moved it because the drawer was full of lingerie and a box that looked like it said:

“Filthy Crocker: Bacon Underpants”

I didn’t ask questions, just made the bed and got the hell out.

-------------------------

The Dog People

Oh god, this one almost had me gagging at the smell. At my hotel you are allowed to bring dogs into your room as long as you arrange it beforehand.

Some lovely couple brought theirs into one of our first floor rooms and left for the day so we could clean. When my training partner and I came into the room, we saw enough toys that we assumed they had a kid with them.

I realized that they were dog toys around the same time my partner started making these loud choking noises in the bathroom.

I went to check on her and she was just pointing at the tub and going on about how nasty it was.

There was fur ALL OVER the shower wall and floor, practically clogging the drain, and the smell of wet dog was in EVERYTHING. There was a pile of towels on the floor that were covered in dog fur, reek, and unidentifiable stains. That’s right, they BATHED their DOG in a HOTEL BATHROOM.

My partner had to clean the tub and floor with heavy cleaner like three times, and I had to vacuum the carpet twice and haul the smelly towels to the cart. We had them bleached and washed on the “kill” setting.

-------------------------

The Other Dog People

Same day as the original story, the people in the room across the hall from The Dog People ALSO had their small dog in the room with them. There was some fur, but nothing seemed too bad until it was time to make the bed.

The guests had the blankets on their bed pulled up oddly, like they were trying to cover something up, but neither of us realized it until we had firmly grasped the covers and pulled them back. At the top of the duvet was a fresh, smelly yellow stain.

My partner and I were sufficiently grossed out and not allowed to change the linens unless the guests SPECIFICALLY request it, since they were staying over.

We didn't feel as bad about it as we probably should have since they did not alert us to the problem. Nobody complained, and we ended up bleaching the duvet the next day so it was clean again.

-------------------------

More stories coming soon!

--StarShoes