Retail Hell Underground

Custys Linejump Riferous For Drinks

Hello again RHU.

I stopped at the local Gas N Shit this morning for my fountain drink and a chocolate doughnut with sprinkles (the Five Year Old Tantrum Defuser). The doughnut case is located right up against the fountain.

There was a very well built man who I will refer to as Football Shoulders getting a drink. He was using the first fountain in line, and his massive muscles blocked both the fountain and the doughnut case. No prob, I'll wait. When he finishes and moves on, I move up to the doughnut case as Menopausal Bitch steps up to the fountain. Ok, you just walked in the door, but what the hell, I'll get my sugar glob and wait - oh, you're getting two drinks? Fine, I'll wait.

I walked around Menopausal Bitch to the other side of the fountain and got my two cups. Note at this point that I am holding in front of me two cups, and facing the fountain. Enter Overly Made Up Hyper Bitch in Scrubs (OMUHBS).

OMUHBS was one of these 20-something girls who was skinny and would probably be attractive if she wasn't certain that she had to fix her ugly with too much makeup consisting of approximately all the colors.

OMUHBS, oblivious to the fact that I am waiting patiently, facing the fountain, holding two empty cups, walks right up to the fountain as soon as Menopausal Bitch turns away. Let me amend that. It was if the vacuum left by Menopausal Bitch pulled OMUHBS into the space she was previously occupying. I never stood a chance.

I stood and watched as she performed the acrobatic (acrobatic, not graceful) feat of holding her wallet, 2 keys with 28 baubles and geegaws, and a 2 pack of 5 Hour Energy in one tiny, bony hand while filling her foam cup with ice, getting syrup, filling pop, getting more syrup, and topping off the pop, all the while trying not to shake like the chihuahua she resembled.

OMUHBS finally finishes, I make a bull rush to the fountain, get my drinks and head up to the register.

There, I thought I could get my revenge. She was standing away from the line (she was somehow observant enough to leave room for people passing through), and I thought to myself, "Self, why don't you charge right up there in front of her?"

So I did, and when she complained, I said, "Oh, I thought that's what we were doing today."

In my head.

In reality, there was somebody behind her, and I couldn't do to that person what two people had already done to me. When I got up to the register next to her I thought about loudly telling the cashier about this bitch who cut in front of me, but she left before I could start in.

Oh well. I drank my pop anyway. And the little one had two bites of her doughnut and said she was full.

Stay classy RHU!

--Riferous

Today's "Duh" Of The Day

--Riferous

Riferous Gets Small Revenge On Asshole Parking

Today's "I park like an asshole" moment, courtesy of Riferous.  That's my van blocking his easy exit.  Unfortunately, I didn't get out in time to see his reaction.

Riferous Gets A Facefull Of Gross Custy Breath

Hello again RHU.

A lot of refrigeration changes have been taking place, and in the course of things the refrigeration for part of our wet rack in Produce was turned off, which required some rearranging.

One recent morning I was talking to one of the Produce employees on my first walk around when a woman approached us. She asked if we had gotten rid of our organic fruits. I said no, we had just had to move some things around (didn't mention to her that the apples she had specifically asked about were in the exact same goddamn place), plus it was early so some things hadn't been refilled yet.

She proceeded to tell us that she was glad that we carried organic produce and that there us a large demand in our county for organics but that people had to go out of the county for a better selection. (My store is located in a small type of city where I wouldn't be surprised if I were asked for possum seasoning, so organic fennel is not in high demand.)

That was all good and fine, and I wanted to tell her that we would be expanding our organic selection when the new department was ready. I wanted to, but she wouldn't let me.

This is early in the morning, when I find it difficult to concentrate on anything for more than 15 seconds, and we've already had what I would consider a full conversation. There was a question, there was an answer, there was related small talk, I'm good to go. But she continued to expand.

She worked for the extension office for a lot of years.

She studied food production, and genetically modified food and all the chemicals that go into/onto produce.

She talks to people about the benefits of organics.

She was shopping in another store, and a woman asked her about the difference between the conventional and organic strawberries. I feel sorry for that woman, because I'm sure she got the entire definition from A to Z, along with pithy declarations about Monsanto and her life history.

And as she is going on and on, telling us all about the evils of food, she is getting quieter and quieter. And I have to get closer and closer to hear her. And as I get closer, I notice... an aroma.

There are people who carry with them the remnants of the cigarette they just smoked. There are people whose clothes smell like smoke. There are people whose very essence is infused with the charred remains of half of Virginia's annual GDP. And then there was this woman's breath.

Believe me when I say that if Satan consumed the ashtrays of a thousand chain smokers, gargled with the shit of the damned, and topped it off with extra spicy curry belches, it would not have smelled worse than this woman's breath.

I can only assume that this woman smokes at every possible moment. Either that, or the organic lifestyle is not really worth living, if that's what it gives you. It physically made me feel bad.

Why would you even bother with organics if you are going to do that? Do they make organic cigarettes?

Oh well. Another satisfied customer.

Stay classy RHU!

--Riferous

Riferous vs Dumbass Chatterbox Custys Asking "Where Is..."

From: Riferous

Hello RHU.

I had one of those mornings that just serves to amplify my hatred of the foul beasts we refer to as customers. Several inches of snow, canceled inventory, wife problems... If only I had just stayed in bed. So I found myself barely able to contain myself when I encountered another of my pet peeves.

People ask where things are.

I get asked where the peanut butter is at least twice a day since it moved from one end of the store to the other (seven fucking months ago). I know that people are going to ask where something is, it's part of the job. But they don't just ask where something is, do they? Oh no no no. A typical scenario goes like this:

Dumbass Custy: "Can you tell me where the granulated banana powder is?"

Riferous: "It-"

Dumbass Custy: "Like you use to make Vietnamese guacamole."

Riferous: "In aisle-"

Dumbass Custy: "I've looked everywhere, and I can't find it."

Riferous: *Pause to see if the chatterbox is quite finished*

Dumbass Custy: "You used to have it over in this aisle, but it's not there any more."

Riferous: "IT'S IN AISLE 6 WITH THE FUCKING HOSE BEAST OINTMENT YOU DAFT CUNT!"

Ok, so the last line is embellished a bit.

The point is, there's a damn good chance that I know what granulated banana powder is. I don't give a fuck if you're making Vietnamese guacamole with oyster sauce or fertilizer bombs, that has no bearing on where the granulated banana powder is located. And I'm the person the employees come to ask when they can't find something, so by the time you finish your first "na" I know what you want and where it is. You've interrupted me once, and I'm obviously trying to answer you, just listen to what I'm saying.

And you've looked EVERYWHERE? EVERY WHERE? You haven't found it so you obviously have not looked in EVERY possible WHERE. That or you 1.) are blind or 2.) are looking for the powdered banana granules instead of granulated banana powder and can't process the words because you lack the ability to realize they are the same goddamn thing.

Then they throw in where it USED TO BE. I've been here for 6 years, I know goddamn well where it used to be, and I still don't give a fuck where it USED TO BE. Why do you think this is useful knowledge? You've been there, you know it's not there, say your goodbyes and get some goddamn closure already! I don't give you directions when you're visiting my town by telling you to turn left where the old schoolhouse USED TO BE, do I? There's a fucking reason for that! It's fucking useless information!

What is wrong with people?

Stay classy RHU!

--Riferous

Riferous' Boss Jinxes Him

Top o' the morning, RHU! (Since it is St. Patty's weekend.)

Yesterday boss man called me on the portable. "What are you doing?"

"Well, trying to run some stuff to the shelf."

"Come back to the back room for a minute."

I went to the back room, and he and Non Foods Slave were messing with the baler. Bossman said "You're the mechanical genius." Apparently NFS had gotten the baler jammed up so it wouldn't go up or down, but they got it figured out just after I arrived.

So then Bossman said jokingly "You need to make a bale." All right, whatever, I'll do that so somebody else doesn't have to.

As I started to open the baler he said "I didn't call you to make a bale, it was jammed up." Eh, no prob.

Before she left the area, NFS said "I don't make bales because I never tie them right and they pop open." That's called foreshadowing, kids.

I get the bale all tied up, chains in place, and hit the button. It stopped when the ram stopped, which is normal. I tip it the rest of the way over, and BAM, three wires break.

Imagine my happiness.

I took a picture and sent it to Bossman with the message "You fuckin' jinxed me".

Half an hour later it was finally cleaned up and another bale made (with double wires this time). I came up to Bossman's office, and he just looks at me and laughs. Laugh it up, buddy, you'll get yours.

That's all for now. Stay classy, RHU!

--Riferous

Riferous Finds Proof Positive That Coupons Had Balls

I am remodeling my kitchen, and when I moved a cabinet I found a bunch of coupons from 1976. While finding coupons as old as me was neat, what I found noteworthy was the first line of the disclaimer on this one.  It reads, "TO THE CONSUMER: CAUTION! Don't embarrass your dealer by asking to redeem coupons without making the required purchase of this brand." Who knew coupons had balls at one point!

Stay classy, RHU!

--Riferous

Riferous In Grocery Hell: Nutjobs, Woody, Nutjobs Everywhere

Get a load of this one, RHU.

An office clerk brings a customer to me.  An unusual start, certainly, rather than paging me. 

Anyway, he starts out, "I was just over at the Deli-ca-tessen (I knew I was in for it when he stretched it out and, oh yeah, didn't just say 'Deli') and I was going to get some meatloaf.  Now when she got the container she had to go all the way to the end to get it, is that common practice?  Usually the containers are just right there."

My first thought is "How the fuck should I know if that's common practice?", quickly followed by "Wait, if you know the containers are *usually* right there, meaning you have purchased the meatloaf on more than one occasion, then obviously IT IS NOT FUCKING COMMON PRACTICE."

"I don't know, maybe they were out at the counter."

"Ok, whatever, well I wanted to get some meatloaf (we have meatloaf in the the case) and the slices are all the same in there but she was holding them up like this (he indicated tray at about chest level) and was talking over it just drooling, spraying her germs all over it". 

Ok, this is at least a semi-valid complaint, especially with the flu as bad as it is. So he says he's going to go find a manager to complain because she apparently said something smart back to him.  (To which I am thinking, but not saying, "Is this all your complaint is?  She might just be justified.) 

Then he says that Bakery Boy, who "I don't know if he's got a thing for the girl or what, but he came out to try to defend her, I guess," and ended up following him the 300 feet or so up to the Service Desk.  (Bakery Boy is married, by the way.)

So I find out who the clerks were, we part ways, and I go to the bathroom, which was my intent in the first place.

On my way I pass the store manager, who is getting ready to go, and the security guard.  Boss man asks what the deal was, and said that other office clerk had told them that they may want to come to the office when the guy came up there.  I just assumed that was because he knew the guy had a complaint. Oh, was I wrong.

After I download some converted Coke Zero, I went over to the Deli.  I told the Deli clerk that the correct response to guy was, "I'm sorry, I'll get you another piece".  Because, as asinine as the guy seemed to be, it may have fixed the situation then and there.

Then I went to Bakery Boy, and said "Answer me one question and one question only.  Why would you follow him all the way to the Service Desk??? 

At that moment, it all fell into place.

Bakery Boy says that he wanted to make sure he got there without hurting anybody, because he didn't seem to be in his right mind.  He said when Nutjob left the Deli he was yelling at other customers and pushing them out of the way and sticking his fingers in his ears saying "I don't want to hear it!"  Just generally playing the part of Nutjob to a T.

Wow.

So remember folks, never judge a nut by it's shell, and stay classy, RHU.

--Riferous

 

Riferous Finds And Shares A Good Zinger

Hello RHU!

I've written before on pet peeve questions and statements, and my frustrations with not having good zingers that won't get me in trouble. But today I got a little relief from one of my peeves.

Picture me on one knee in front of an endcap, stocking some canned tomato products, concentrating on the task at hand. Now picture Grandpa Gaptooth approaching with nary an "Excuse me" or "Hey" or... well anything, actually, except that oh so pleasant joke of a question, "Where do you hide the Rotel?"

My standard answer to "Where do you hide X?" has become "If I told you, it wouldn't be hidden". This one hasn't gotten me in trouble yet, and hopefully someone will realize that they are really not funny or original.

So I told Grandpa Gaptooth "If I told you, it wouldn't be hidden". He laughed. Then I gained immense pleasure in showing him directly where the Rotel was "hidden".

See, Rotel is a tomato product.

I was stocking tomato products.

I pointed straight up to the shelf that I had just crammed full of Rotel (two varieties!).

Cue Granpa Gaptooth, who would have gone red in the face if his poor circulation hadn't made blushing impossible, laughing at himself in disbelief. I handed him two cans and he was on his way.

Stay classy RHU!

--Riferous

Selfless Saturday Tale: Sometimes The Crazy Complaining Custys Show Thanks

Here is a a cute Selfless Custy story from Riferous:

Many many years ago I had a customer that was a megacomplainer. 

This was wrong, that was wrong, what the hell did you do wrong this time, why is your company so stupid, that sort of thing.  Not an every-other-word-is-fuck type, but certainly not bashful about her vocabulary. 

She always got up to a manager, naturally, and I, at the time being in the young, naive "I want to please everybody" stage, did everything I could to help her.  It wasn't difficult stuff, and I always handled it for her.

Well, she got to where she liked me and one of the girls in the office, because we could laugh with her and always did our best to help her out. 

To this day when I fill in at that store and she's there, the people that know us both will tell her that I'm there, and she'll try to take me to lunch.  (Which, even though I'm sure she's on the level, I politely decline.  Even a free lunch isn't worth an hour of her complaining about everything under the sun.)

At one point, I don't know what it was we helped her with, but she decided to call in a comment.  Since June 12, 2001 I have kept a copy in my drawer. 

It is as follows:

Concern: Riferous - Asst. Mgr.

Blondie Ditzhead

These employees should deserve special recognition for their committment [sic] and service to customers.  They have helped me out alot [sic] and should be praised for being so helpful.

On the other side --- this store has a big problem, and I'm not going to write about the problems they have in [store] because it would take me all day to write about them!!!

It still makes me laugh to read it 11 years later.

Stay classy RHU!

--Riferous

Crazy Grocery Custy Calling: I'll Serve Papers On You Right Now

Let me be the first to say (warn of, instigate terror with) Happy Fucking Holiday Season RHU!

It seems 'tis already the season to be grumpy. Customer Service Slave paged me this morning.  She said the guy on the phone was cussing at her and when she asked what it was about (because she is kind enough to do that when somebody asks for a manager) he said "Garble garble I'll serve papers on you right now!"  

How could this not be a fun phone call?

So I greeted him and asked how I could serve him on this fine autumn morning.  Or something along those lines.

"Yeah, why are you telling people you aren't honoring the prices in your ad?"

"I wasn't aware we were doing that, what specifically are you referring to?"

We have this funky sale this week, and it includes 2 liters.  But it doesn't include the main brands, Pepsi, Coke, etc.  It's the varieties (root beers, ginger ales, etc.) that are on sale.

The ad does not say "Pepsi and Coke are not included", but it does list four specific varieties "and many more!"  It also pictures several varieties, none of which are the main brands.

"You're the manager, right?"

"Right."

"You told three people yesterday that you wouldn't honor the price in your ad on two liters."

I know two things.  

1.) I was the only manager yesterday, so this is not a case of mistaken identity, and B.) This is the last day of the sale and I haven't heard a single word from a single soul about 2 liters all week.

"No, I haven't told anybody that."

"Well I have three people ready to testify that you did."

"Well that would be false testimony because I did not."

"This guy is fairly well known in the community..."

So which is it, three people or one well known person?  And for that matter, I went to the hardware store the other day and somebody recognized me from work, so guess what? I can say I'm fairly well known too, jackass.

Eventually I somehow I divined that he was talking about the main brands.

"I'm looking at your ad right here. Your ad says 'and many more'".

"I'm looking at it too. Yes, it says Soda A, Soda B, Soda C, Soda D, and many more.  It also says 'citruses, ales, and root beers.  A, B, C, D, and many more."

"Are you saying Pepsi and Coke aren't included?"

"Yes."

Pause.

"You have a good day." *Click*

Thank you for calling, please take this opportunity to fuck off.

The only logical thing that I can think happened is that three people this guy knows, real or imagined, shopped yesterday, assumed that the main brands were included in the sale, and were informed otherwise.  This poor excuse for a Ralph Naderite took it upon himself to scream "FALSE ADVERTISING!!!" to the heavens, trying to influence me with the threat of bad publicity from "a well known community figure" and got shot down.  I hope he gets the magical 2 liter with a mouse in it and gets catastrophic diarrhea.

Until next time, take a swig for me, and stay classy, RHU!

--Riferous

 

Custy Questions Authenticity of Grocery Store's Gatorade

This story happened not to me, but to my co-worker, who I will refer to as Captain 'Murrica.  

He had just clocked out, but a customer, whom I shall refer to as Confuzzle, stopped him and asked where the Gatorade was.

Not an unusual question, as we have just finished up a full store remodel and reset. Captain 'Murrica says that the Gatorade is back in the beverage area, and as he was going to get one, he'll take her along.  

Confuzzle says she looked there but couldn't find it.  Fair enough, the common naive soul might say.

They arrived in the aisle, and he showed her the Gatorade, and proceeded to pick out one for himself.  She looks, doubtful, then asks, "Are you sure that's Gatorade?  It just says 'G' on it."

For those of you who may not be familiar with Gatorade's packaging, the bottles do have a "G" on them that is about 2" wide by 3" tall and totally dominates the label.  But they also say, in smaller print, "Gatorade" on the label.  In a couple places.

Captain 'Murrica shows Confuzzle where it says "Gatorade" on the label. 

"But, are you sure this is really Gatorade?  I'm going to therapy and I need Gatorade."  It seems at this point she is going to the wrong kind of therapy.

Captain Murrica says again that yes, it is Gatorade.  She decides that maybe A-Head is telling her the truth, and decides to take a bottle.

The two take separate paths to get to the front end, the doubting Thomasina arriving at the registers first.  When Cap gets to the registers he hears Confuzzle asking the cashier, "One of the employees said this was Gatorade, but I'm not sure..." 

Not only does she not believe either Captain 'Murrica nor the cashier, she actually talks the cashier into not being sure herself whether or not it was Gatorade. 

Now there are two people who can not determine whether or not THE BOTTLE THAT SAYS "GATORADE" CONTAINS GATORADE.

And how does this second interaction end? 

With Confuzzle wandering off, saying "I'll find someone else to ask..."

I feel sorry for her therapist.

Stay classy RHU!

--Riferous

 

 

Retail Slaves As Custys: Bad Joke Eel Strikes Again

Hello, RHU devotees.  I experienced a little bit of retail heck tonight.  Not quite hell, I don't give the guy that much credit.

The wifey decided that she wanted fried chicken and mac and cheese for dinner, so I pop down to the local grocery (gasp - I shop at the competitor!  If only we had a store less than a half hour away!).  I made my way over to the Deli.  After 15 years in retail, I think I've developed a sixth sense for mayhem.  I see, from a distance, an old man standing at the hot food case, looking around for help.  An old man kept waiting?  Aw, fuck.

So not too long after I arrived at the counter, striving mightily not to make contact with Grandpa Liverspot (call me anti-social), a clerk came up and began to help him. He too wanted fried chicken.  So she packaged it for him and started to label it.  Then my intuition became fact.

He looked back at me with a grin.  His face said, "Break out your zoot suit, this one's gonna be a doozy!"  (No, don't do it!)

He turns back to the clerk, looks back at me for a second grin to see if I'm paying attention, (OH GOD HE'S GONNA DO IT!) and said, "And an extra thigh for the wait!" (I'm sorry man, I did everything I could!  Via con Dios!)

Now he said this with a smile, and I knew he was joking, and the clerk laughed and played it off very well.  But it still rankled me that he thought he was going to make some grand joke and pull me into it.  I just looked at him, trying to convey "Really?  Did you really just say that?" until he decided that he was funny enough to move on to the next stop.

*    *    *

And on a separate note, do you ever have one of those weeks when people just don't seem to realize that you exist?  

I've had that week this week.  I could be pulling the loudest, noisiest, tooth-rattlingest old busted ass cart full of loose cans fifty feet down an aisle, come up behind somebody who is parked in the middle of the aisle, and have to stop because they have not once even looked up to see where that huge mosquito is that is making all that noise.  

Then if you are lucky you get, "Oh, am I in your way?"  Oh, I don't know, I thought maybe I'd just drag this shit around with me and stop at some random point like Forrest Gump when he decided to stop running.

The worst, though was when I was switching pallets of water out of the entry and pallets of pop into the entryway.  Not once, but twice, I dropped a skid, pulled out the jack, and just as I was about to push it under another skid, people walked between the skid and the jack.  And did not even pretend to look at me.  

Then there was the guy who came out of an aisle in front of me and kept going, forcing me to suddenly bring half a ton of product to a stop so I didn't run over his oblivious ass.

Then came the topper of all the toppers.  Imagine me, pulling a skid of water out of the back room, just accelerating after coming through the door.  Imagine idiot customer approaching from the right, who looks up, sees me, actually smiles at me, fucking speaks to me, and, stunningly, says "Let me get out of your way" as he races right. in. front. of. me.  I damn near ran over my heels trying to get the pallet stopped.  It was all I could do to just look at him in disbelief and not blurt out "That's not fucking helping me, jackass!"  People are actively trying to die!

That's all for tonight.  Stay classy RHU!

--Riferous

4th of July Hell: Burgers, Beer Brats, and Stupidy

Burgers!  Brats!  Beer!  Stupidity!  

That's what you can expect at your local grocery store for the holidays!

Hellidays always bring out the best of the worst, don't they?  Especially the 4th, which is celebrated in loud, flaming fashion throughout the month of June.  I was walking across the Front End the other day on my way out, when an employee says, "There are some kids out in the parking lot lighting fireworks, and this old man's getting aggravated at them." 

My first thought was, well, why doesn't the old man do something about it?  But I watched as I walked out.

I live in the Midwest, where I could piss about as much rain as we've had in all of June, and there are burn bans all across the state.  There's probably nothing flammable in the parking lot, besides, you know, fucking gas tanks, but I'm in no mood for the store's roof to catch fire.  That shit can only happen when I'm off.  but I digress.

I walked slowly, looking around.  I saw a couple groups of kids, but nobody was doing anything.  After I walked past the first group of two, who had been talking to their mother who was sitting in their van, I heard "POP!"  

I turned around to see a man child (seriously, the kid was almost 6 feet tall but couldn't have been more than 14) slightly hunched over with his back to me and his hands together in front of him.  In short order he throws a single firecracker up for another "POP!"

It's late in the evening, I've been there nine hours, and  I really don't want this to take any longer than it has to, say I say "HEY!  You can't do that here!"

Mungo the Man Child turns around and says, "Oh, sorry."  At this point I'm pleasantly surprised.  Then I look at his hand.  He was lighting the firecrackers with his mother's cigarette.  *Facepalm*  

I sat in the car with the door open for a couple minutes while I sent some texts, then pulled up to the gas station for some go-go juice and didn't hear any more, so problem fortunately solved.

*

My store is currently being remodeled.  Whereas the Deli was along one wall, and the Bakery was located across the aisle, we just opened the new Bakery which connects directly to the Deli.  The new improved Deli/Bakery (which is not complete, despite being open -_- ) has all new cases, all new equipment, all new everything.  What works the way it should?  NOTHING.  The new two level oven?  Nope.  Water in the controls.  The new scales?  Nope.  A short in one that turns it off at random, and none of them print the sale price on labels.  The new freezer?  Well, it freezes, but the refrigeration unit didn't come with a defrost kit.  And all of this just in time for a first of the month holiday.  What could be better?

*

And finally, since we are being remodeled, we have dust.  Lots and lots of dust.  Dust that goes everywhere.  Therefore I have begun to carry a feather duster.  Short of wearing an apron with a pocket or a lanyard, there's not a lot of places in a person's wardrobe to place a feather duster.  So I put it either in my back pocket or in my belt behind me.

My advice: never, ever put a feather duster near your butt.  EVERYBODY has to comment on it.  And not just employees, bonehead customers also think it is funny to tell you that you have a tail or that you can come to their house next.  I'll bet an even half of the employees have said something about it - close to 50 so far.  Why?  I don't go around saying "Nice apron, gonna x-ray somebody?" or "Hey, I think Joe's wearing that same shirt!"  WTactualF people?  It's a feather duster.  Get over it.

*

I guess I can't complain too much though.  Dinner tonight was a ribeye with salt and pepper, pan grilled orange and red pepper with onion, and tater tots.  It smelled like the State Fair.  Without the sweaty carnies.

Stay classy RHU!

--Riferous

Riferous On 20/20 Job Confessions

For anybody who didn't see Freeman on 20/20, I recommend that you check it out online, merely for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Retail Hell, although they didn't give him nearly enough screen time. :)

I would just like to say that while I realize the focus of the 20/20 show was somewhat narrow,  and Freeman was "only" a guest expert, I personally thought that the way the show was presented was not exactly favorable to retail slaves.  The hook was "retail confessions", and it was a little skewed towards revenge.  You know, spitting in food, telling people off, etc.  While those things are sometimes celebrated (I know I love a getting a good "fuck you" in to somebody who deserves it), I wish they had focused more on what spurs the revenge.  

I think Freeman was the only one who really got into describing the horrible, horrible custys we all encounter, and even with him they had that scratching needle "did he really just say that?" moment.

So if we pretend we are in the TV Guide "Cheers and Jeers" column for a moment, Freeman gets a "Cheers" for calling out the rude, the crude, and downright lewd, but I would have to give the producers a "meh" for not making the message clear.

Anybody else see it?  What did you think?

--Riferous

Stocking Stuffer Balls

From Riferous: That sound? It's Beavis' head exploding. I saw this at Target and had to share.

 

One Girl's Hilarious Request From Santa is Not What You'd Expect

From Let Them Eat Crack:

So RHU it is the season for holiday cheer and parties, this week we had our store Christmas party and we even had a super special guest in a big red suit played by none other than our own Riferous.

As I'm helping him pass out candy to all the little kids after they tell him what they want for Christmas a little girl comes and sits on his lap and decides she's going to play the part of the smartass spawn that she is and asks for a pony.

When questioned about where she would even keep a horse we asked if there was anything else she might like, the following happened:

Me: would you like anything else? A new car, a dirt bike...or maybe a new little sister?

Spawn, without missing a beat: I want a pony, and besides my mom's tubes are tied so no more babies!

Rif and I are speechless and just start laughing. We took this as a sign that Santa needed to head back to the North Pole and he and his little elf needed to head back to the bar.

--Let Them Eat Crack

 

Tis The Season To Be Scammy: Grocery Custy Attempts Return Fraud With EBT Card

A quick tale from the hallowed halls of retail...

A customer came in this afternoon, about 2:40, with two expensive pork loins.  She said that her husband bought them, and they were the wrong things.  A receipt?  Why no, I don't have a receipt!  The first time, the clerk at the desk (fellow RHUer Then Let Them Eat Crack) said nope, sorry, no receipt. 

She left and came back about 50 minutes later, and another clerk was at the desk.  TLTEC (he really needs a shorter handle, but whatever) had informed new clerk and myself about the woman just in case she came back.  Therefore new clerk calls me.

"Yeah my husband bought these and they were the wrong thing."

"Oh yeah?  When did he get them?"

"This morning.  He works third shift and they were in the refrigerator when I got up."

"Ok, let me check something."  I went to get an RF gun.  For those who don't know, the RF gun has a handy little feature that tells you how many of an item has been sold in previous days.  I scanned one of the loins, and lo and behold, there was a big fat zero in today's column.

"Well, we haven't sold any today."

"It might have been late yesterday..."

How many did we sell yesterday?  Again, none. 

"No ma'am, we haven't sold any of these for the past two days."  These items are store brand, and the next closest stores are 30 minutes away, so at this point I'm not doubting that they came from here, but I am certain that they weren't bought here.

"So I'm just stuck with them?"  - points at RF - "That's wrong!", she says, as she exits stage right.  My RF is never wrong... is it?

My confidence in the RF was shaken about a half hour later when desk clerk pages me to say that she came back with a receipt, from about 2:00.  Ok, so, glitch in the system?  If they were bought at 2 am they should have showed up...  But wait!  She didn't say AM.  I called and asked again what time it was.  They were purchased at 2:29 PM.  Ten minutes before she showed up at the desk the first time, claiming her husband bought them in the wee hours.  60 minutes before she handed me the same spiel.  I realized then why she was so confident that they had been purchased - she had just done it!

But wait again! What benefit would it be to her to buy something and return it without a receipt.  Because she bought it with... you guessed it... her EBT card.  The desk clerk surprised her with that tidbit, when she said she would refund it to her EBT card.

"Well, how do you know I used my EBT card?"

"Because it says so on your receipt."

"Can't you put it on a gift card?"

"Nooooope."  (Ok, I added the emphasis, I admit it.)

Nice try, and it might have worked, but for two factors that just happened to work in my favor.  I had the RF to tell me that we hadn't sold any, and, by a stroke of luck that worked out in the end, she had bought them so recently that that system had not updated and therefore did not show the movement.

She told the desk clerk when she came back with her receipt that I owed her an apology, she was not a thief.  Nope, she's not a thief, just a fraudster.  And I hope she comes in to get that apology.

Stay classy, RHU!

--Riferous

 

Enititled Bitch Custy Gets Told By Riferous

Riferous gets a Retail Balls Award for taking out an Entitled Bitch Custy at Target:

Wassup RHU?

I was in the local Target today, returning some headphones that sounded like crap (what did I expect for seven bucks, I guess).  In front of me was one patiently waiting woman and one Entitled Bitch. She didn't appear to be at first, but it didn't take long for the entitlement to reveal itself.

Entitled Bitch was attempting to return, as it turned out, an iPod shuffle.  Without a receipt.  With a lot of things, from what I gathered from the two clerks helping her, it would be no problem to at least give an in store credit, but naturally with an electronic item, there's a problem.  They even have this nifty look up thingy that will let them look up transactions by credit card number, which they offered to do. But no, Entitled Bitch's mother had purchased it with her Target card.  

Return Clerk (RC) said that they could look up the transaction with Enititled Bitch's Mom's card, but alas, EB Mom lives and hour and a half away and that wouldn't work.  RC even said if they even had the number they could type it in.

Entitled Bitch is well dressed in the kind of outfit that says she or hubby has good money to spend on bland beige jackets, so I assume that somewhere in her overpriced handbag she has a cell phone and has the option of calling EB Mom.  But no, that would just make sense!  And why should she have to go to all that trouble?

So after seeming so patient, well, at first, anyway, for the five minutes RC has been attempting to help her (and she did go out of her way in my opinion), Enititled Bitch decided that she was not getting what she was entitled to, and engaged Bitch Mode.

"See, this is why - you're returns are just so - I always have problems here.  I don't like shopping here, and I am not going to shop here any more!"  There are two more people who have joined the line behind me, making a total of four people that Entitled Bitch is holding up at this point.  

Consider my buttons pushed.

I cut her off mid-sentence with "BRING A RECEIPT NEXT TIME."  

I know I shocked the shit out of her because she stopped talking and took a full three seconds before she turned around to look at me with That Face.  You know the face, the one where some entitled whore just absolutely can not believe that someone dared to point out that she might be - *gasp* - WRONG.

"It was a gift!"

In about three nanoseconds I put together that this was a gift, from her mother, likely to one of her litter of entitled crotch spawn, who decided that a 2 GB iPod shuffle was NOT what they were entitled to, and Enitled Bitch had decided that Target owed it to her to take it back because she said so.  A gift.  A. Gift.  And she was giving RC hell for doing her job. 

Unfortunately I was only able to come back with "Don't bring it back if you can't follow the rules", but I did manage to completely ignore her as I walked to the register and she left quickly and quietly, probably seething with anger that some rude prick dared to speak to her in that manner in public.  I like to think that she complained loudly to her husband, who pretended to listen to her and calm her down so that he could get the blow job he was entitled to.

RC clerk said "Thanks", and I said "I just want to return this" as I handed her my headphones WITH THE RECEIPT.  Even though I had opened them she processed the transaction without a hitch and I went on my merry way, thinking about how good it felt to be able to say something to someone who truly deserved it.

Until next time, stay classy RHU!

--Riferous

Forget Black Friday, "Ricky Bobby Week" Is the Real Beginning of Holiday Retail Hell

Hi everybody!  It's the holiday season!  (Don't break your screen, it's too early for the Black Friday sales.)

I have decided that I am going to refer to the first week of November as "Ricky Bobby Week".  (For the uninitiated, Ricky Bobby was Will Ferrell's character in "Talladega Nights".  You have to watch it at least once.) 

Anyway, I have christened the week thusly because the first week of November is when all the toothless, clueless, no-soap using, EBT having rednecks do their Thanksgiving shopping so they can sit around, watch NASCAR, and give thanks to the little baby Jesus.  I promise it's worse than a regular first of the month, mostly because the people who are only there once a month and can't find anything are looking for everything they can't find plus the holiday stuff that nobody can find because they only buy it once a year.

(Disclaimer: Not all EBT users are gum-slapping unwashed hillbillies.  But they are out there.  You know they are.)

Compounding the first week of November is the fact that certain commodities do pick up in sales, and merchandising knows enough to advertise them, but not enough to supply them properly.  Three days into the ad, I schlepped product all day because we had a ton of it and it wasn't on the floor, it just naturally wasn't what people wanted.  Brand name canned vegetables?  The whole line is on sale, and while we for some strange reason ordered the four biggest sellers (what were we thinking?) all day it was "Do you have sweet peas?  Do you have mixed vegetables?  Do you have potatos and shredded cabbage patch kids?" 

Well, maybe, probably not, but consider this: you are asking me this by the two skid display that A.) you haven't bothered to look through and 2.) this is NOT the canned vegetable section, this is a display.  Look in the aisle, people!

...Which is where I was, trying desperately not to end people who were standing in front of the slot for the item they want, which is in my hands or next on the cart, so that I can't get to the shelf stock it, when two literally toothless old sisters come up looking for, naturally, what we don't have.

"Do you have mixed vegetables?"

"No, sorry, what you see is what I have."

"Do you have the others or are they part of the sale?  Can I get a raincheck is what I'm asking."

...No, that's not what you're asking, but sure, knock yourselves out.

5 days into the sale they started substituting the store brand.  And ran out in a day.

And completely unrelated, but noteworthy, I was filling in at another store when I saw a 60+ year old man with full beard wearing an outfit that, in individual pieces, could have passed for men's clothing, but put together as an outfit, was all women's.  Blouse, slacks, hat, even down to the knee high boots.  Somehow I managed to nod, mask my surprise, and move on.  To each his, her, or its own, I guess. 

Thankfully, at least, we had our holiday open house on the 5th, and once it was over, they deep sixed the Christmas music.  The tradeoff, I guess, is that they started mixing in country.  But I decided that I will accept that since, for the first time in 13 years, I heard honest to God Jimi Hendrix at work.  

Stay classy, RHU!

--Riferous