From Let Them Eat Crack, March, 2012:

Greetings minions,

I've been a little under the weather the past few days because a "lady" came through my line while I was running register about a week and a half ago and coughed in my face.  Not one of those little ones that sneaks up on you during cold season for which you immediately apologize, this bitch coughed in my face so that I could feel the wind off of it from two feet away not once but three times in the time it took me to ring up about $100 worth of stuff.

But I digress, a few days before Phlegmy LePew up there came through my line this seemingly nice custy came up with four bags of grapes and told me before I ever started her order that she couldn't find a scale and only wanted "about five pounds of grapes or so."  A reasonable enough request as she had been polite and told me after saying hello and before I started ringing them up, then it went to hell, literally.  

I laid the first three bags of grapes on the scale and the weight pops up (the biggest part of our display) and exactly 6 and 2/3 lbs or...queue dramatic music...6.66lb.  Before I have a chance to move a bag because it is clearly more than she wanted the woman goes all Demonic on me:

"You HAVE to remove one of those, I simply CANNOT have that number, I just won't stand for it"

Me under my breath: Its just a number ma'am.

"NO IT IS NOT!!!"

Yes, its six and two thirds pounds but I will try to get closer to five like you wanted.

*I trade out the top bag for the other on the belt and it comes up to just under six lbs.

"Oh my that is much better, These are for the Prison Ministry and I couldn't stand to have that, it just wouldn't be right."

I go on about the order laughing about the lady with THE DEMON GRAPES (*twirl mustache in a sinister fashion) until I see the Headline on one of the several news papers we sell is an editorial about the dangers of prisoners using fruit to make homemade hooch (that's alcohol they make from fermenting fresh fruit and bread).

Thanks for tuning in,

--Let them Eat Crack (or drink that sweet toilet wine)

 read more Crazy Lady Tales here

From Tera, June, 2012:

You ever have a moment where you see something that makes you laugh, and then you realize ‘Damnit, now I have to clean that up!’?

I had one on Sunday.

I was stocking the cooler full of beer, a job that I surprisingly enjoy since it means dealing with fewer customers. Shift Leader 1 was helping me, and it was right after my late lunch break.

I looked up to check the clock when I hear ‘I NEED THE BATHROOM NOW!’

This drunk-ass woman came pinballing in, and when I say ‘pinballing’, I mean she would stagger into something and then stagger into something else. Oh, and she had pissed herself at some point.

I told the Shift Leader that she was a little too late to need the bathroom, and one of the girls on register led her where she needed to go. Couple minutes later, she pinballs herself back out the store and manages to fall into an open truck door that belonged to what I assume was her boyfriend’s.

It was kind of funny to watch, really, and I had a good laugh over it. Until the girl on register ran over, telling us the lady had pissed on the floor under the baby changing station.

I ran in to see, and yes. She had pissed on the floor, not 5 feet from the toilet. And to top it off, there was used toilet paper next to the puddle. I got to spend the next several minutes cleaning and scrubbing the bathroom down, pissed (no pun intended) as hell.

Well, at least she wiped, right?

--Tera

 for more Gross Retail Hell stories go here

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From Joe the Cigar Guy, February, 2012

Hello all!

Yeah, I've been lurking more than I should, but work at Legume's is taking more of my time and that's a good thing! The powers-that-be have increased my hours, so that means mo' money, mo' money, MO' money!

I'm going to take Freddie's advice about keeping work rants on the down-low, because I really like this job.

Buuuuuuut, something happened recently that I just have to share with y'all...

Just yesterday, two 60-ish Asian women were browsing the shoe department. After some minor language-barrier problems, I brought out several pairs of our lightweight hiking boots.

That's when the older of the two ladies took off her shoes and socks and I saw that the tips of her toes were black! (and not with dirt!)

She said something to her companion and the companion asked me, "What cause's that?"

In my head, I scrolled down the list of possible responses:

("Diabetes")

("Wearing shoes that are too tight")

("Long periods of inactivity")

("Frostbite")

and

("EEEWWWWW!")

But I settled on: "Ma'am, I'm not a doctor, but I think your friend should get that checked out...soon!"

She relayed that info, they both nodded and took their purchases up to the registers. Meanwhile, I'm thinking "Why would you POSSIBLY let a condition like that just slide? And why ask a shoe salesman for a medical diagnosis?"

I'm still shaking my head over that one.

...and the dance goes on.

Peace.

--Joe the Cigar Guy

read more Shoe Store Hell stories here

From BookAce, December, 2010:

It's been assholes to the left of me and vultures to the right this week, man. And it's not just me! My sweet-as-sugar co-worker who nobody could hate, he's that nice, has had two different customers scream at him in the last couple days!

By now everyone's heard about Hoarders melting down. My store did not close, afflicting me with a mix of relief and survivor's guilt. The vultures and discount rats began gathering days ago.

Are you closing? Is everything on clearance? Is everything free because you're closing? Why isn’t this on sale? Can I just steal shit since you’re closing anyway? No way will I buy one of those crappy Plus cards or e-readers, you won’t be around in a year.

The day before the big announcement I asked a man to take one of our free cards. FREE. And he says to me, “I dunno, let’s wait and see how your stock does. HAHAHA.”

Me: …=| “It’s free. It doesn’t matter what our stock does.”

Guy: “I…I know, I was just…”

Me: B|

It wasn't funny then when I was thinking my paycheck was on the line, and it's not funny now after knowing people personally affected here. (He noticed I was not amused and left quietly.)

Then later, an old man came up and slapped a book down. It’s a hardcover, 40% off for Plus members, 30% off for everyone else.

Old man: “I’ll buy this if you give me the 40% off.”

Me: “Are you a Plus member?”

Old man: “I was a member a long time ago.”

(We started up this Plus program last fall. Yeah…a long time ago. Sure.)

Me: “If you’re not a Plus member, it’s 30%.” (Still a good deal, honestly.)

Old man: *long stare*

Me: *GTFO stare*

Old man: “Fine.” *stomps off*

THIS IS NOT A FUCKING FLEA MARKET. And I'm not haggling just because you think we're desperate enough to be pushed around. At least use "please." It's not that hard!

Then today it was time for the usual dicks to gang up. First came generic asshole guy. Throws the greeting card he's buying at me along with his credit card and gives nothing but monosyllabic answers. The guy's pretty high up in police rankings, believe me, I'm sure he's capable of using a full sentence and maybe even "thank you."

Then came Bible thumper guy. After I muttered under my breath about hating the people who put the stickers on books, (because they put two different priced stickers on said book and I was like, "WTF?") the guy goes, "Hey!" He holds the Bible out at me and stares at me long and hard, pointing at it.

Me: *puzzled stare back*

Guy: "It's not good to hate." *walks away*

I wanted to tell him that if everything in the Bible is true, the head dude upstairs surely has a number of more pressing issues with me than my annoyance at the sticker people.

Then not even a half hour later comes condescending change guy.

I'm not good at math. Disorder-level not good. And I'm not ashamed to pull out a calculator when someone pulls the whole, "I have change!" just as I open the till (ignoring that I always wait for them to offer change beforehand...) because I don't want to shortchange them or be shortchanged. This guy has the change once the till is open. I ask my co-worker quickly what the even-dollar value should be because she's a whiz and she gives me the answer. The guy harumphs at me and goes, "That's so simple, you need to ask her for that? And they've got you running the register? Geez."

Then I got so flustered apologizing for my bad math skills that I forgot the answer my co-worker gave me and had to ask her again, my face burning at this point, while the guy huffs and puffs and rolls his eyes.

Thanks a lot, jerkass.

Not long after that came a discount rat, asking what the sale price on everything was. Turns out she thought we were closing. After I corrected her she shut up about things that weren't on sale, but she still kept pulling that move where custies lean over the counter and ask after every item, "That was on sale, right?" ARGH.

Got a three-day weekend though. Gonna head up to the gun range this weekend and use one of those silhouette targets. "What's that bitch? Did I just hear you say 'everything should be free LOL!' because thousands of people losing their jobs is funny? And you don't want a member card? And oh, you're too busy gabbing on your phone about your hook-up last night to thank me after I fetched books for you for an hour, but you're NOT too busy to interrogate me about the price of every item? Well, meet my little friend..."

--BookAce

 read more Bookstore Hell here

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From Bookstore Slave, November, 2011

Bookstore Slave here with a short, but real gem, of a custy in northern California. After ringing a lady up for her books, she looks at the total and flips.

Her: Why is the total so high?

Me: I'm sorry, were they on sale?

Her: No! This book is $6.99 and that one is $7.99! The total should be $14.98!

Me *understanding*: By any chance are you from Oregon?

Her: How did you know that? Have you been stalking me?!

Me: No ma'am. It's just that Oregon is the nearest state that doesn't tack on sales tax. It's merely a logical guess.

Her: Sales tax? What the hell is that nonsense?! You're lying! You've been stalking me haven't you?! HAVEN'T YOU?!

Me: Er...

The manager swoops in to the rescue saves my ass, aborts the sale and re-rings her up. Apparently he missed the actual conversation, and was merely responding to a hysterical customer.

Her: Why is the total so high?! The price should be $14.98!

Manager: Ahh, you must be from Oregon. It's beautiful up there.

Her: YOU'RE ALL STALKING ME! I'M CALLING THE POLICE!

She bolted from the store, leaving her books behind. You know, I've met other Oregon-ians, and they just go "Ohhhh riiight," whenever I mention sales tax. This lady was the only one to jump to the stalking conclusion first. Interestingly enough, the police never visited or asked for either of us. I can only guess the police were "stalking" her too.

--Bookstore Slave

read more Bookstore Slave Tales here

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From Cosmetics Hellhound, June, 2011:

I had an older lady come into my store the other day looking for Elizabeth Arden Green Tea Deodorant (Which by the way smells fucking awful).

I had a poke around before I remembered that our store had pulled it from the shelves because it doesn't sell very well at all.

I went over and apologized profusely explaining that I had forgotten that our store did not carry it anymore but I did have a couple other prestige deodorants that I could show her if she liked ... this was when she went from sweet little old lady to demonic bitchcunt in all of .3seconds.

Bitchcunt: "WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOUR STORE?!?"

Me: "I'm sorry? I can call a couple other stores nearby to see if th--"

Bitchcunt: "So you are basically telling me that not only is your fucking barsoap sold out, but everything else too? I HAVE HALF A MIND TO CALL YOUR FUCKING HEAD OFFICE TO TELL THEM HOW THIS FUCKING STORE IS RUN."

**Turns out she was looking for Irish Spring Bar Soap in the front too, as I explained before my store is set up with an area cut off with a wall that is brightly lit (think department store almost) with prestige cosmetics such as Lancome, Guerlain, SMASHBOX, etc and then "Front Store" which is the drug store area and mass cosmetics such as L'Oreal, Covergirl, etc**

Me: "I am sorry you feel that way but there is honestly no reason to be swearing right now we have other clients around here that do not need to be hearing this language"

**INCLUDING a poor little girl no more than 9 or 10 who looked horrified by this decaying, screaming, corpse-like woman in front of us**

Bitchcunt: "I will do what I WANT, sonny, this is a fucking free country isn't it?"

At this point I am about done with her fucking attitude and I am seeing sparks and shaking like a leaf. I ended up doing something that I am so surprised did not get me into heaps of trouble because I am about 9000% sure I am not allowed to do this without managerial permission but you know what? She was a fucking bitch. I would like to think she deserved it.

Me: "I think it's about time you leave, get out of my store."

Bitchcunt: "IT'S NOT YOUR STORE, I PAY MY TAXES, I WILL LEAVE WHENEVER I FUCKING WELL PLEASE."

Me: "NO, YOU WILL LEAVE NOW OR I AM GOING TO CALL THE COPS THIS IS A PRIVATELY OWNED BUSINESS IT IS NOT OWNED BY THE GOVERNMENT AND IF I WANT TO KICK YOU OUT FOR BEING RUDE THEN I WILL, NOW GET OUT."

I started hustling this old bat out the front door but she was still pushing one of our shopping carts, I grabbed it and pulled it away from her and she protested with a "I am not gonna steal your stupid cart" I told her I honestly don't care what she was going to do with it but it is NOT leaving my store and I wrested it from her death-grip.

hen shit got a little weird, she laughed (manically, not haha funny) and stated "I'm just a crazy old biddy I will do what I want" and left the store .... I still don't know how to take that, honestly.

--Cosmetics Hellhound

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