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March 2010
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May 2010

RHUer Busted For Taking A Break?

Blogskull22 From N:

Here I am emailing you from my work computer .. love your site definitely gets me though the day .. I do travel insurance.. barf.. and also work in a discount retail store..

Just thought I'd share on my first hellish experience of the day..

Not even a bad custy.....but a bad colleague!

So I was sitting at my desk waiting to clock back in early as I usually  do from break. I was slouching in my chair with my feet resting on the filing cabinet.

One of the ladies who is out on maturity leave came in with her baby.

Moments later, she reports me to my supervisor who then sends an email!

Sorry for resting on my break?

Things like this make me happy my contract is up in a month!

--N


Banker Hell: Waiting on Cletus McDoucheknob

Storytime5 From Sam:

Don’t you hate it when just looking at your customer as they approach sets off all your warning bells?

When Cletus McDoucheKnob swaggered up to my teller line just minutes after my shift started, I was instantly filled with dread.

Somehow, I just KNEW.

Sure enough, his odor reached me before he actually did… something along the lines of Eau de Pabst Blue Ribbon from 3 days ago. Ugh.

He started out with an apologetic demeanor, so I felt a twinge of guilt for having judged him as he approached.

“Can you tell me if I’m doing this right?” he asked as he laid down his Western Union forms. “I’ve never done this before.”

Ugh. I hate Western Union. 90% of the transactions are scams and the other 10% are people getting raped by their mortgage or other loan holders by charging them $15.99/month just to pay their bill (and won’t accept another form of payment).

The computer system works like it was designed in 1989 and hasn’t changed since. I look at his form, and he has everything filled out.

Since I have no idea what he’s attempting to do, I can’t tell if it’s filled out CORRECTLY, but it’s at least filled out.

He instantly snatches the form away and says, “I think I did that wrong, can you get me another form?”

I oblige him.  Freddy100

He swaggers over to a desk and makes himself at home while he fills out another form.

15 minutes later (no lie—there’s what, maybe 6 questions on this form?), he comes back to the line and gives me the new form.

“Did I do that right? Can you fill one out for me? I’ve never done this before.”

“No, sir, I can’t fill the forms out for you. But let me enter this as you have it, and if I find any problems, we’ll see what we can do to fix it, OK?”

He keeps trying to make small talk while I’m typing away, only his idea of small talk ends every sentence with “I’ve never done this before.”

I see he is sending about $300 to a woman in Russia.

I imagine he’s probably been chatting with this woman online, and she’s now springing the trap to get as much cash out of him as possible.

I wonder if he thinks she’s going to move here and marry him?

His repeated claims to have “never done this before” lead me to believe he’s feeling a little dirty about the whole thing… sex chats, perhaps?

I am disgusted at the thought and have to force myself to concentrate on the task in front of me to avoid picturing him at his computer sweating like a pig with one hand on his warm can of beer and the other… well, ‘nuff said.

Shudder.

We are prompted by the system to ask the customer if they know the individual they are sending money to—as if this will stop people from being scammed!

I rarely actually ask the customer this “security” question. By the time they come to my window, they’re already sold, they will lie to me in a heartbeat, so certain they are that they’re about to get a big Nigerian lottery payment or save their long-lost cousin from a Turkish prison, or snag themselves a Russian bride.

Sometimes I feel sorry for them and really try to talk them out of it, but my experience has taught me to mind my own business and let the stupid unwashed masses rid themselves of their hard earned cash however they please.

I finish printing out the paperwork and show him where to sign.

He’s suddenly quite proud of himself.

He puffs up and announces loudly, so that everyone in the area can hear:

“Well you popped my cherry! This was my first time!”

Ugh. How very charming.

The two women in line next to him suddenly stopped their conversation, turned and stared at him.

“Oh,” he leaned in their direction and said quietly, “I’m sorry.”

‘Cause you don’t want to offend the women standing next to you.

But the one standing in front of you has to take it, right?

Douche.

-- Sam

  


Lottery Crusty Gets Told

BallsawardAAA Gas Station Slave Emma gets a Retail Balls Award for standing up to a couple of crustys that should have been bitch-slapped:

I work for a gas station in a suburb way close to a major metro area. We're right on the main road out of said metro area, and so during rush hours, we get a lot of cranky custys. Oh the stories I could tell. 

But today I need to rant about one of them.

Let's call him Lottery Larry.

Lottery Larry comes in every day and gets, guess what, lottery tickets! 

And once a week, he returns them for cash (telling me first, without using the self scanner [key component to what I'm getting at] what each ticket is worth.) He plays the games that require a lot of thinking and matching (like crosswords) and they are really easy to screw up.

Well today he comes in, excited because he won 62 dollars. 

He tells me he has a $30, two $10s, and 4 $3s for winners.  Customers 009a

I go to scan them on the main thing, and the amount shows on a screen he can see. I get to the last three, the $30 and supposed 2 $10s and one scans as 10 and the other scans as $9.

All the other tickets were the same.

And he flips shit.

"WHAT THE HELL YOU'RE STEALING FROM ME YOU BITCH!"

And I'm just sitting there dazed at his response.

"I'm not doing anything to try to "steal from you," sir," I reply.  I rescan the ticket. It comes up as "credited to you today, 2 minutes ago.  $9."

"You misread the ticket, sir." 

I rip it up, as is required in my area by law.

"I DID NOT IT WAS A TEN DOLLAR WINNER YOU TWAT."

"LISTEN, YOU. There are children in this store, and there's a massive line behind you. I have two vendors waiting to be paid and you're complaining about ONE. FUCKING. DOLLAR? Take your 61 dollars and go bother the lottery office!"

"Well, can I take the ticket as proof?" He asks, suddenly more calm. Customers 008a

"No. I have to keep it ripped up in my trash can."

"WELL YOU SUCK AT CUSTOMER SERVICE HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO GET MY MONEY

FROM THEM?!"

I hand him the slips that print each time I scan a winner ticket.

"It's got the serial number at the top for each ticket." 

I cash out the tickets and count the money back, shoving it into his hands, "Now get the fuck out."

He stormed off.  The other customers cheered. The whole damn ordeal took more than 10 minutes. 

Really, dude, a $1 difference and you're gonna be that way? 

Not in my store.

*        *            *            *        *

The gas station chain I work for spans the upper Midwest and east coast of the US. The logo is green and we have currently have a promotional partnership with a grocery store, where you go to the grocery store, and they give you a card that you can earn 10 cents off per gallon of gas at my gas station with every 50 dollars you spend at their store. 

Win win, right? 

Well the grocery store decided to not only print the custys' current discount savings (0.10, 0.50, 2.60) at the bottom of their receipts  Oh no. They also print the total dollar amount you have toward your next discount. 

Right. Above. Your. Total. Discount.

Cue seriously bitchy custy.    Customers 005a

It was a Sunday afternoon, I'd just gotten on shift, and it was slow. In walks seriously bitchy custy, she can't have been much more than 35 years old. 

She's got a sweet little girl who I've seen come in with her daddy from time to time, very polite child.  I smile.

"Hi ------(child's name), is this your mommy?" I say, and then to the woman, "Hi, how can I help you?"

"Yeah, how does this rewards thing work?" she flashes the card in my face, like literally an inch from my nose. 

I sigh, but keep smiling. 

Us cashier/attendant/multipurpose slaves were never really given a clear cut way to explain the system, and the grocery store explains it wrong, so I've had a few misadventures before this woman in trying to tell how it works.  

"Well, first of all, did you plan to pay at the pump, prepay, or pump and then pay?" I asked, since she was parked at one of our 4 non prepay only pumps. 

She glares at me. "What does that matter? Just tell me how it works!"

"Well, you spend $50 at the grocery store and you get .10 off per gallon-"

"Nuh uh" she cut me off, digging through her purse. She pulls out a receipt from the grocery store and shoves it in my face. "It says I have $45.91 discount."

"No, ma'am, that's not how it works. That amount there? It's how much you have toward your next .10 off per gallon. Your receipt says you have .50 off per gallon right now."

"That's not what the grocery clerk said!" she countered, her voice raising.

I'm trying really hard at this moment to not start yelling at her.

"Well the grocery store clerk doesn't work here, does he?" I ask, calmly and quietly. 

She rolls her eyes.

"So did you want to prepay, pay at the pump, or pay inside?" I ask. 

She says "PREPAY."  Customers 005

I cringe. 

Prepay is the most screwed up way to use the card. You have to pick an amount and you get that full amount PLUS the discount (say you normally get 5 gallons for 20 bucks, and you have 30 cents off per gallon, you'd get closer to 6 gallons total) and I've had customers scream at me for this before.

"How much would you like to prepay?"

"50 I guess," she says, rolling her eyes again. 

I punch in fifty dollars, and scan her reward card. The discount's only available up to 20 gallons, and after the discount, 50 bucks is more than 20 gallons. 

The price reduces. 

"Your total is $25 and change."

"I said FIFTY," she said in a huffy voice. I try to explain to her why it did that.

She repeats herself, in a more angry tone.

"Ma'am, it won't allow me to-"

"OH FUCK ALL THIS SHIT.  I'LL JUST GO TO SUPERAMERICA."

She storms out, dragging the poor little girl behind. 

It's obvious that kid learned her manners from her daddy.

--Gas Station Slave Emma

 


At Tale of Scheduling Bullshit At The Bullseye

Tdogc From CJ:

I recently discovered RHU (recently as in, two days ago), and I love it!

I have to admit, I may be one of the few people who actually enjoys retail (I know, I know) just because I do love people and I've been especially lucky with my previous jobs (I did a year at a postage-stamp-sized drive-through coffee shop, and 2 1/2 years at a Seattle's Best Coffee inside a Borders: coffee AND books; life gets no better than this). I've been blessed with fabulous managers who are always willing to work around my schedule (I'm in school and theatre; it gets crazy). UNTIL (duh-duh-DUN).. 

I applied to Target via their website over the summer. I wasn't really expecting to get called for an interview; NO ONE is hiring in my town (or the rest of the company, it seems like).

I put in my complete availability (such as it was), in a desire to be completely upfront and honest. This was as follows: I could work mornings and afternoons M-F, but I needed mornings free Saturday and Sunday.

However, a few weeks after I submitted the application, school would be starting AND my show would be opening, and my schedule was going to change then (I also noted this on the application, again not really expecting to get called). I recognized my availability was ridiculous, and had no expectations whatsoever. 

Imagine my surprise when the very next day I am called for an interview!

I dressed nicely and came in, and my first interview was with a general manager; he was very nice and said that he saw I had a ton of coffee experience; was that something I enjoyed?

I said yes it was, very much, but had he seen my availability? Skullyservice

"Yes, and we're willing to work around that," he said. He then passed me off to another (?) general manager, who asked the exact same questions, and I gave her the same answer.

She passed me off to the cafe (Starbucks) manager, who said, "So, I see you have completely open availability?" 

"WHAT?!" said I. 

She rechecked the application. "Oh, I see... oh, well that's okay."

I explained about my show opening and school starting.

"Well, you'll have to get all those dates approved a month before," she said.

"But school starts in two weeks!"

"Oh, well I guess that's okay..."

I got hired, and started the next week. My dates were signed off and approved, amazingly (I needed Friday through Sunday off for two consecutive weekends) and I was promised I wouldn't have to work MWF mornings after classes began.

Two and a half weeks passed. I hated the job--I live in a town with a large hispanic population, and while I have nothing against anyone who speaks English as a second language--or even doesn't speak English at all; hey, my grandparents got off the boat from Italy speaking no English at all--I got a lot of attitude from people who were furious that I couldn't speak Spanish. 

Rhell 006

Additionally, I had worked in pretty upscale coffee shops, and working in Starbucks after working in a "legit" coffee shop is like working at McDonalds after working in a Cordon Bleu restaurant. I could feel the crappy coffee killing my soul. 

Then the schedule for the weeks of my shows came out. As if it were deliberate, I was scheduled to work every single morning MWF, and every evening Friday through Sunday. 

When I (calmly, I thought) approached my manager, she told me she'd "deal with it".

This was Friday; my first conflict was Monday. She wasn't working Saturday or Sunday, but I was, so I took the initiative and tried to find a replacement.

Which Sunday night, I finally did. However, she couldn't come in the store to sign the "trade shift" papers, and I couldn't come in the next morning to let her do them, so we both texted the manager saying we'd exchanged shifts, and she said that was okay. 

Cue the next morning, when I am sitting in class, and my phone starts ringing.

My co-worker didn't show up (because she "wasn't sure if it was today?") and I was in deep trouble for it.

I told my manager up front that I couldn't come in; she'd promised to "deal" with the conflict in the first place, and I had class, just like I'd told her from the beginning. 

I didn't end up coming in until the next week, due to only being scheduled during conflicts. The store manager took me into her office and told me that since I was on probation (the new employee 90-days policy), I was getting fired and the other co-worker wasn't even getting a verbal warning.

I told the manager this was ridiculous, but I didn't care because I'd hated the job anyway. Besides, my ex-boyfriend worked there and it had been way awkward. 

Since then, I've discovered many other Target employees screwed by the scheduling... a friend aptly described the people who did the schedules as "on crack".

Phew... so that's my story.

One of these days I'll send an exciting customer story, but overall, I've been pretty blessed. =)

--CJ