Retail Balls Award to this RHUer for handling an asshole discount rat!
My dad, who I shall call Smitty for the purposes of this story, owned an independent gas station. When he passed away, I ended up taking it over and running it.
In comes a customer with that particular swagger of somebody who 'knows' that he's getting his way. I carefully brace myself for the upcoming battle and put on a professionally friendly expression.
He comes up to my register and tells me that he's a good friend of Smitty, and he always gets a discount.
All professional pleasantry drains from my face and I give him an ice cold look.
Me: "You're a liar. Please leave."
He turns an interesting shade and roars that he'll have my job.
Me: "First of all, fuck you. You couldn't handle my job. Second of all, Smitty was my father. Third of all, my father died four years ago, you asshole, and all of his FRIENDS attended his funeral. So no, you are NOT his friend and you will NOT be getting a discount."
I almost wish I could translate the choked noises coming from the back of this douchebag's throat to text, but needless to say he fled at top speed and I haven't seen him come back.