From December, 2010:

Hey there RHU! Queer Geek back again with another delightful holiday story.

Now many of you may not realize this but good ol’ Queer Geek here not only solves custy problems at his job but moonlights as a free therapist as well.  Just call me Dr. Pill because I’d rather swallow a bottle of Prozac than deal with any more crazy custys this Christmas!

What do I mean by that?  Well let me explain.

Being a Big Fancy office slave, I help my store with menial tasks from answering idiotic custy questions like can I return used underwear to can I get an 80% discount on a defective item to researching lost custy shipments.

On this particular day, I got a call from a custy who I shall refer to as Drama Queen because she literally kept me on the phone for an entire hour trying to solve her problem.

“Thanks for calling the Big Fancy, this is Queer Geek.”

“Hello, my name is Drama Queen and I’m very upset," she told me, "Your employee did not ship me out my make-up order, my free gifts with purchase, and my free samples.”

Now let me mention here that I have sympathy for anyone who works in the cosmetics industry. Beauty Slave, if you’re reading this. I feel your pain. Ever since the make-up companies decided to do gifts with purchases and offering free samples to consumers if they bought some of their make-up products, custys have been trained to have a sense of an entitlement where they can get anything free from cosmetic samples to makeovers.  Basically they are wasting the make-up person’s time and money by not really buying anything and asking for a handout. Drama Queen was no different but more on that in my story.

“I’m sorry about that,” I tell her.  “Let me fix the problem. What is it you ordered and I’ll see about getting you your gifts with purchase and samples and ship them out to you ASAP.”

“I ordered the Such and Such make-up but I was specific about my samples and gifts with purchase,” she informs me. “I wanted the blah blah sample with the blah blah gift with purchase that does the blah blah blah. I don’t want the blah blah sample because I didn’t ask for the blah blah blah when I particularly ask for the blah blah blah…"

At this point my eyes roll to the back of my head from her demands. “Miss Drama Queen, we can replace the order you originally had and ship it out but some of those free requests and gifts you may no longer available so I can substitute it with something comparable.”

“I DON’T WANT THOSE GIFTS! I WANT THE SAMPLES I ASKED FOR! THAT IS WHAT YOUR EMPLOYEE PROMISED ME!” screeches Drama Queen.  “I WANT THE BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH…”

Appalled at how unreasonable she is being, I try to rationalize with her with trying to resolve her issue but she is not having it so I tell her on the phone that I’ll see what I can do but then the conversation turns bizarre.

“I’m sorry but I’m just really depressed,” she starts off. “I just lost both my parents passed away this month and my dog is sick and I’m struggling financially. Did I mention my parents had passed away and my dog is sick?”

Okay I can understand her displaced anger toward me but then she starts bawling on the phone and that is when the therapist gene in me kicks in and she has to tell me her whole life story.

“I have to work two jobs just to make ends meat,” she cries.  “It is so difficult with the economy being the way it is.  You know people are struggling right now. You know everyone needs a job so I can to work two jobs to support my family. That is why I’m going to apply part time at another retail store so I can pay for school and have Christmas dinner for my family. Then my parents passed away this month and now my dog sick. Did I mention that my parents passed away and my dog is sick?”

This conversation turns into an entire hour of her repeating herself and I’m trying desperately to end the call but like a leech she keeps sucking me back in to which I politely inform her.

“Okay Miss Drama Queen, I work on your issue and get this taken care off.”

“But I didn’t tell you about my son who is going play at his high school concert. He is a really good musician…”

*CLICK*

Epilogue: I finally ship her replacement package and samples (which I had to hunt tothe ends of Earth to find for her) and leave her a message hoping I wouldn’t have to deal with her.

Everything would have been fine until she called me back….

“QUEER GEEK!” she screeched on the phone, “DID YOU SHIP MY PACKAGE AND MY BLAH BLAH BLAH SAMPLES?”

“Yes I did,” I replied. “It’s arriving this week.”

“Good,” Drama Queen responds. “Did I tell you my parents passed away this month and my dog is sick right before Christmas too?  Oh and that I’m struggling with money like everyone in the economy?  Oh and my foot is starting to ache. I think it's gout? Do you think it is gout?  It could be cancerous..."

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

--Queer Geek

read more Holiday Tales here

From Rat Lady:

Working at the store 7 to 23 o'clock was so much fun I had to share a few of the things that happened while I worked there.

I worked the grave shift and I still remember some of the weird ones. There was the girl who came in to buy beer and presented a driver's license that gave her age as 19. In California, you had to be 21 to buy alcohol. The following conversation ensued:

Underage Buyer: Why can't I buy beer? I'm from Nevada. We can buy beer in Nevada when we're 18!

Me: You're not in Nevada, you're in California and you can't buy beer here until you're 21.

UB: I don't understand! I'm from Nevada! Why can't you let me buy beer?

Me: You are not in Nevada! You are in California and have to follow the laws of California!

UB: But I don't understand...

This went on for about 20 more minutes. Finally I told her to leave or I'd call the cops. She finally left. Without her beer.

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Wintertime. Young women come in dressed in short shorts and halter tops. I always kept the door open because I got so warm running around unpacking groceries, mopping the floor, etc. One of the girls is leaving and asks me, "Aren't you cold?" I look at her and what she's wearing and say, "No, I wear clothes."

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I've got the store spic and span for the morning rush. Coffee is fresh, creamers are out, counter is clean. Guy comes in and pours his coffee into a cup and proceeds to put sugar and cream into it. By the time he's done, the counter is covered with sugar packets, empty creamers, napkins, coffee, and stirrers, even though we have garbage cans to the left and right. His wife wouldn't put up with that crap and neither do I. I charge him 99¢ for a 79¢ cup of coffee and smiling sweetly at him, tell him to have a nice day.

You want to be a slob at my store? Go right ahead. Sometimes we'd make $5 in extra slob fees before the morning rush was over.

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Multi-million dollar lotto night. We have customers lined up around the store and out the door. The machine starts smoking. I decide to open it up, whereupon a huge cloud of smoke arises from the innards and the smell of burnt rubber assaults everyone's senses. Obviously the lotto machine is down for the night.

I tell everyone I can't sell any more tickets because the machine is burning up. Most people groan and start to leave. But one man has to ask me while I'm standing there in front of a smoking machine, "Can't you print out just one more ticket for me?" I ask him, "What part of 'the machine is on fire' do you not understand? NO!"

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Our cash registers sat sort of in the middle of the store with the freezer behind us. One day across the street, some kids decide to videotape a guy who is juggling balls. The guy sees the kids and demands their camera. The kids hightail it across the street with the guy in hot pursuit and run into our store. Around and around our little island they all run with the kids screaming and the guy right behind them and yelling. My coworker, who is a stickler for things being in absolute order, is totally unhinged by this. He's standing with his hands clenched into fists and at the top of his lungs, he's shouting, "NO! GET OUT OF MY STORE! GET OUT OF MY STORE!"

I would have helped resolve the situation, but I was laughing too hard to do anything.

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Guy came in one night when I was on grave and hands me a temporary check with no pre-printed name or address on it. He starts telling me a sob story about how he just moved here and he has no money for gas or food, so can I please cash his check. Yeah, no.

I'm off at 7am the next morning and my manager is a little late coming in, so I stay for an extra half hour. A lady comes in and lo and behold, she hands me the same check I saw last night and gives me a sob story about just moving and she needs to get gas to get to work and the banks aren't open and can I please cash the check for her. I tell her I told the guy last night I couldn't cash that check and I still can't cash it now.

Later on, one of the swing crew calls in sick and I say I'll work her shift. So 5pm, in comes the guy from the night before, same check in his hand. Walks in the door, looks at me and says, "Don't you ever go home?", and then turns around and walks back out the door.

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Night shift. I can't sell alcohol to anyone I think is intoxicated, especially if they're driving. So I tell the two dudes in front of the counter that I won't be selling them their beer. Of course they argue about it. I tell them as clearly as I can that they should leave and probably not drive home. They argue. Finally they get the picture when one of them turns around and sees the two cops who have been standing behind them the entire time. Cops tell them not to drive. Guys say, "Sure, we won't drive!" and walk away down the street, leaving their car in our parking lot.

Five minutes later after the cops have left, the guys are back and getting into their car and pulling out of the parking lot. Of course, one cop has waited patiently across the street for this very thing to happen and pulls them over. "Like shooting fish in a barrel," he says.

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Two kids walk in and get beer. They come up to the counter and throw down some laminated card. "Military ID," one says to me. Well, no. It's a laminated Red Cross card. I took the beer down behind the counter and told them not to let the door hit them in the butt on the way out. Like I don't know what a military ID looks like. Sheesh!

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About midnight one night, a BMW comes into our lot, more or less parks, and out steps this woman. She couldn't stand straight 

even holding onto the car door. I sigh and pick up the phone and start dialing the cops, a number I know by heart by this time. My customer is standing at the counter telling me to just "Give her a break. She's just trying to get home. Why do you have to call the cops on her?"

By this time, the woman has fallen back into her car and she slams the door and tries to take off. Now the same customer in front of me is having hysterics. "She's not gonna stop! She's gonna hit my car! Call the cops! Call the cops!"

The cops eventually stop her and it turns out she's almost 3 times over the legal limit and she has a $10,000 DUI warrant out on her. She refused to do the sobriety test, so ended up at the jail and had to be carried in because she refused to walk.

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3am. I had a guy come in and just stand there and look at me. I ask him if I can help him and all he does is start licking his hands without saying anything. Fine, I already know how this is gonna go. So he turns around and walks out and with the hair standing up on the back of my neck, I'm on the phone to the police like white on rice. As I'm putting the phone down, the guy comes in again with his friend this time. The friend is acting super hyper, running around the store, and the first guy is still standing there without a word and licking his hands again. Neither one is actually buying anything and they refuse to leave.

Then come the police. Unbeknownst to me, they had all been helping the cops in another area with a hostage situation and had gotten the call on their way back, just a block away. The two guys in my store had apparently been pestering the other town merchants all day and my call was the straw that broke the camel's back.

One police car after another came zinging into the lot, until I swear there were at least 7 of them there. The guys in my store turned white. BUSTED!

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Guy comes in one morning and starts immediately complaining. "All I did was just look at the money!" We have an inside ATM at our store and the guard was filling it. When this guy came in, he leaned over to look at the money and the guard raised his gun at him. The customer was aggrieved. "All I did was just look at the money!"

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The cops used to sit across the street and keep an eye on the store. I was flattered until one of them told me that when it comes to convenience stores, when they get a 911 call, they never know if the victim is going to be the clerk or the customer. I said ha ha ha.

Anyway, they were across the street when a car comes careening into the parking lot, backs up into the space in front of the door, and idles there while a guy jumps out and runs in. Cop was there in one second flat. Customer is having a hissy fit. I tell him, "What do you expect? You back in in getaway position, leave your car idling, and run into the store. No cop worth his salt is gonna ignore that!" Customers, I swear!

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After 2am when the beer run ends, things are sort of quiet. I've already checked the aisle in front of the beer cooler for money people may have pulled out of their pockets and dropped while trying to decide how much beer they can buy.  Instead of money this night, I get four younger men who come in and while one is asking me something at the counter, two of them grab a bunch of sandwiches and run out the door. Of course I go out the door after them, but stop and think about what I'm doing. Decided it wasn't that smart of an idea to run after them, so I pull the door keys out of my pocket and lock the other two in the store. Then I step to the phone booth we have right next to the door and call the cops.

Cops caught the thieves right away. They were still sitting in their car up the street, waiting for their two friends to show up. Their friends, of course, were still locked in the store. One of the cops told me they were just going to give the guy who stole the sandwiches a warning but he was such a smart mouth, they decided to take him to jail.

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And last but not least, my favorite story, although it didn't happen to me. One of the clerks at another of our stores caught a little kid shoplifting. He saw the kid was wearing brand new Nikes. He tells the kid to either give him the Nikes or call the cops on himself. The kid calls the cops on himself.

You retail slaves hang in there!

--Rat Lady

 read more Convenience Store Hell stories here

 August, 2016

Former McHell Manager here, turned Manager in Training for the King.

I have a story for you, about my manager. I didn't witness this myself, but was told about it from my manager the day after it happened.

Guy came in, and ordered a couple of Spicy sandwiches. Which, for the Land of the Kings, are normal chicken sandwiches with spicy sauce on them, instead of the patties themselves being spicy.

Co-worker: Here are your spicy chickens

Guy: Can I have the sauce with them?

Co-worker: The...sauce? There's already spicy sauce on it.

Guy: No! The sauce! Ranch! I want ranch sauce!

Co-worker: Oh, Ranch! It will be $.11

(We're one of those stores that charge for sauces and have a sign up saying so)

The guy proceeds to flip the fuck out, claiming that he wanted sauce for his sandwich and he shouldn't be charged for it. Eventually my manager came into the story and tried explaining to him our policy. At that point he flips out more, claiming we don't have a sauce policy and that it's not written down anywhere. My manager walked a foot to her left where the sign was and pointed it out to him. He flips out more and says this little gem:

"You don't even work here!"

At this point, she looked down at her shirt that has a decent sized logo on it, walks to the phone and tells the guy to get out or she is calling the police. This guy apparently was raving mad over a sauce and causing a pretty hefty scene for a decent amount of time. He hightailed it out as soon as she said she was calling the police.

I love this manager, as she's one of the managers who doesn't cave in for most customers who pull that "if I get angry enough I will get my way bit"

And yes, I realize this was all over $.11 but hey, not my call.

But yeah, to this day we laugh about it and go up to her and say "Don't you know, despite wearing your uniform, clocking in, and ordering us around, you don't work here?"

--Former McHell Manager

 read more Fast Food Hell stories here

and checkout Mistaken Identity Tales here

From April, 2012

Hey RHU-ers! I’ve got a good one for you.

So, I manage a pretty quiet, laid back, local bookstore in a pretty small town. The owner also happens to own a bar down the street, and we frequently have various people coming to talk to him about bar business. Therefore, last Friday towards closing time I didn’t think it was odd that a man came in asking to speak with the owner.

I politely informed him that he was probably not coming back since it was so close to closing time, and that he should be back in on Monday morning if he would like to come back then.

The man then starts telling me a story regarding the bar that he wanted to speak to the owner. Apparently, there was a special on the board for $2 beers, but there was also a “deal wheel” that had been spun and landed on 2-4-1 beers. This wheel special negated the special on the board, since you end up getting two beers for $3.25, which is cheaper. He was therefore charged $3.25 for two beers instead of $2.00 for one, and they would not give him a refund… blah blah blah.

Here’s a short version of the ensuing “conversation:”

Seeming not too crazy at the time, he asks if there is another owner of the bar. I tell him there is, his name is so-and-so. Man asks if you spell that with an “e’ or an “a”. Meanwhile, a customer and teacher in town has come up and is patiently waiting at my register to buy a book.

I inform the man that I will ring the customer out quickly and try to find out the spelling of the co-owner’s name. (Keep in mind that I’m a pretty average sized girl in my mid twenties, and the other girl working is just 20 and smaller than me.) And now the fun begins!  

Crazy Man: “WELL I’M A CUSTOMER TOO!”

Me: “Yes, sir, but this man is waiting to buy something. It will take me a few minutes to try to find the correct spelling of the name. Excuse me for a moment.” (I begin walking towards the register.)  

Crazy Man: “WELL I WAS HERE FIRST! I’M A CUSTOMER TOO! WHY AREN’T YOU HELPING ME?!?!?”

Crazy Man: “YOU DON’T KNOW HOW TO RUN A FUCKING BUSINESS YOU ASSHOLE! I’M A FUCKING CUSTOMER TOO! WHY AREN’T YOU HELPING ME! TAKE A FUCKING BUSINESS CLASS YOU DUMB BITCH! FUCK YOU!”

Me: “Listen, I have nothing to do with the bar! I’ve helped you all I could, I run a bookstore not the bar! What do you want from me?!”

Meanwhile, my co-worker who has been sorting books in the basement comes upstairs…  

Coworker: “WHY ARE YOU YELLING AT HER?!?!”

Crazy Man: “WHY AREN’T YOU BOTH UPSTAIRS TO HELP PEOPLE?! YOU FUCKING ASSHOLES!”  

Me: “You’d better get the fuck out RIGHT NOW!”

Crazy Man: “GO FUCK YOURSELF!”  

Me: “WHY DON’T YOU SCREW OFF!” *turning to customer* “I am so sorry sir, this is crazy! I’ll get you rung out.”

Crazy Man: “I’M A CUSTOMER TOOOO!!!!!!”  

Awesome Customer: “You’d better leave right now buddy. You can’t talk to these girls like this!”

Crazy Man: “FUCK YOU YOU FUCKING ASSHOLES!”  

Coworker: “WHY DON’T YOU LEAVE?!”

Awesome Customer: “Listen, I’m a  high school teacher. I put up with shit like this every day with my TEENAGE students. Leave.”  

Crazy Man: “WELL FUUUUUUUUCK YOU!”

Me: *finishing transaction and turning to crazy man* “JESUS CHRIST! GET THE HELL OUT BEFORE WE CALL THE COPS!”  

Finally, crazy man begins to leave… while screaming AT THE TOP OF HIS LUNGS“FUUUUUCK YOU YOU FUCKING SATAN WORSHIPPING ASSHOLES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

I apologize profusely to our customer and thank him for sticking up for us and waiting until the crazy guy left… but holy shit. All over a $1.25 at a different business! Thank god I work at a store where our boss encourages us to stick up for ourselves (cursing people out and all) if we need to. Needless to say, it took me and my co-worker a while to settle down.

Later, I go over to the bar to have a beer, calm down and tell my buddies who work there the whole story. It turns out he had gotten kicked out forever for grabbing a girls ass the same night of the beer special incident. And he had come in the next day, bank statements in hand, to tell everyone involved he “would have their jobs” and dispute the $1.25… turns out he never even had any money in his account to lose. He got laughed out of the bar by the bouncers, who apparently are harder to take your misplaced frustration out on than 2 girls in a book shop.

May all your customers be awesome,

--Your Local Bookwhore

 read more Monstrous Customer Tales here

for more Bookstore Hell go here

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 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