From Molly_Mog, June, 2014

So it was a lovely insane day at the petrol forecourt, everyone was  a little, umm, odd. There were the middle-aged little boys who stamped out of the shop because the coffee machine was working at that moment, cursing and swearing about how unfair it was and how shit we are. There were the idiots who come in the exit and park the wrong way, who when we ask them, politely, to turn around go into a fit about how they aren't thieves and how dare we! (Pump and runners often face the wrong way so we have been told by the area manager to make them turn around, this is an area manager suck.) One even tried to scare me by turning around and moving as fast as possible as if he was going to hit the pumps or the bollards, which actually made me laugh because, well, pumps and bollards will hurt his car more than he'd ever hurt me.

Then there was Mr Important, he'd spent the best part of ten minutes slowly making a coffee while talking over Important Things on his phone and blocking anyone else from being able to because obviously he's the only person in the shop. Then he continues to wander around the tiny little shop talking loudly and Importantly. Then another customer comes in to pay and tells me that a Range Rover is blocking the middle of the pumps. I knew it had to be him. So I asked him if it was his, of course it was, so could he please move it as it is blocking the pumps for other customers to use. He said he would and didn't. After a few minutes I asked him again and he shouts that he can't while he's on the phone. I don't have to be sickly sweet to arsehole customers, thankfully, so I suggested that he actually hang up and move the car. He slams his unpaid coffee down and storms out, still on his phone and I think no more, of well we lost a sale of coffee just because he didn't want to get his hair wet. Weirdly, ten minutes later he comes back in hands me a tenner and says "Large coffee £2.40" as if I can't read or don't know my job and when I hand him the change silently he snaps "£7.60 right?" I just smiled. He was not happy. He really needed that coffee.

Finally there was Mr Creepy. He's new-ish to our place but has become a semi-regular for about a month. He's very loud and very imposing, though not to me as it's hard to cow me, he looks like Brian Blessed and Boris Johnsons' love child. I listen to the radio at work, it helps my sanity levels, and I dance and mime along to the words (I don't inflict people with my singing) and I genuinely don't care what others think about it. Mr Creepy likes me singing along, he really likes it. He asked me many questions the first time he came in and saw me, including does my husband approve? Because I need permission from a man/woman/wookie to do what I wish that doesn't hurt others.  I told him my ex-husband had no say in what I did and I knew it was a mistake because then came all the creepy questions. Just ugh. This time I wasn't singing or dancing because there was nothing on I wanted to join in with and immediately he starts commenting about it. Then he tells me to start singing. My polite smile drops and I refuse point blank, then he asks when I'll be singing again, to which I said later, "Oh when later?" to which I replied I didn't know, because you know I don't run of a bloody schedule, spankfish. I didn't say that last bit to him but the tone did. He finally left and I really, really felt like taking a long shower in boiling water.

Today was a funny day but I really am so very tired of the adult children.

*

June, 2014

All the talk about sock and boob and, shudder, pants money has reminded me of a fairly recent horror.

It was an early Sunday morning and a couple were getting coffee from our machine and a couple of other bits and pieces. They came up to the till and then the woman pulled out her purse and removed a rolled up £10 note only to giggle in a little girl way (hideous in anyone over the age of 7) and said to her partner: "Oh it's the one from partying, it's all I've got."

Then she hands me the rolled up note, I unroll it, and you are probably way ahead of me here, I get white powder all over my hands as I unroll it. My face becomes a mask, trying not to show the horror, then hand her the change. Thankfully it's Sunday and no one else is there yet so I tell my manager that I need to wash the money and my hands thoroughly before I scream hysterically.

I'm not a germaphobe, I don't think you can be when you work with money that much, but the white powder absolutely freaked me out.

*

 October 2016

I finally encountered it, after all the years in retail, reading the sites saying that the customer just stared at the person as if the stare would change the answer they didn't like.

It finally happened to me.

I'm in the bakery/coffee bar and a customer comes up and asks if there are any more croissants available. There had been a rush and I had some in the oven so I told him so. He just stared at me.

So I said I was sorry there were no more croissants left and we were baking some.

He just stared at me some more.

I think my brain left for the moment because I just ended up staring back at him until I tried one more time: No there are no croissants, they're in the oven and they won't be available for at least 20 minutes (including cooling time).

Finally he stopped staring and asked me for a coffee. I've never encountered anyone like him before, he has a coffee loyalty card, he's going to be back.

Help.

--Molly_Mog

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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

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From Terah, May, 2011:

We had this woman come in one day. I was by myself (I’m always being left alone in the store, even though rules say you’re not supposed to do that… sigh) and this was back when I was full time in the gas station. It was raining, and this woman called in, yelling something about how the machine wasn’t reading her card.

That was a VERY common problem. Most people would lift the nozzle before inserting the card, or not lift it at all, and the transaction would void itself out because of it… and she’d tried more than three times, meaning that her card COULD NOT BE USED AT ANY PUMP FOR AT LEAST 30 MINUTES! Safety feature, y’know, if someone swipes your debit card and tries filling up too many cars.

I called out, told her that she would have to come inside and leave me something to hold so I could turn her pump on. She storms in, screaming that she doesn’t want to prepay, she wants to fill up. I explained I needed collateral, and I would turn the pump on, and she could come back in.

Woman: Didn’t you hear me?! I don’t WANT to prepay, I want to fill up! AND I don’t want to come back inside, it’s RAINING!

Terah: Okay. Now, I can’t preset on a card with the registers for gas alone, it shuts the registers down. If you go and get something, like tic tacs, or gum, I can set your gas for $100. Anything you DON’T pump will go back onto your card automatically! *smilecheerfulpleasedon’tyellanymore*

So she went around and loaded up on junk food and crap like that, ice cream and the like… and slams it all down on my register.

Woman: Can I buy cartons of cigarettes over here?!

Terah: Oh, you need cigarettes, too? No, I can’t go get any, because I’m by myself, but if you take this all into the Smoke Shop, through that door right there, I’ll call over and explain what’s going on, and they’ll be happy to do what I was explaining.

Woman: OMFG I DON’T BELIEVE THIS! EVERY FUCKING TIME I COME IN HERE IT IS ONE FUCKING THING AFTER ANOTHER WITH YOU PEOPLE! I CAN NEVER GET GOOD SERVICE HERE; I AM NEVER SHOPPING AT THIS FUCKING STORE AGAIN!

…and a few other ‘colorful’ phrases I’m leaving out to be polite. She shoved everything at me and glared.

Terah: Okay, well, I guess this means I’ll see you here tomorrow?

She just went to leave, her face was red with pure anger, and the other customers were staring at her like she was insane. Just before she got out the door, I told the guy behind her, loud enough that I knew she could hear:

Terah: I’d tell her to put this stuff back, but I’m worried that psycho might snap and kill me.

Never got a complaint and I know she heard me… and, guess who came back for gas the VERY NEXT DAY?

--Terah

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From Drive-Off Dramaqueen, April, 2011:

Oh. My. Gods. I swear, someone left the door open at the loony bin or something, because they're all coming in full force to this gas station. Including, but not limited to, this gem, which just happened.

There was this old lady, I'd say probably a good 60-65 years of age, with leg braces and those half-crutches that have the thing that wraps around your forearm. She pulled up to the store, waited for an hour for the place to vacate, pulls around to a pump, comes in, and demands, NOT ASKS, DEMANDS, that somebody come out and pump her gas for her, because she's disabled.

I'm the only one in the store currently, so I say (insanely politely, as I've only been at work about an hour and hadn't had a bad custy yet!) "I would be happy to come out and pump your gas for you, ma'am, I just need to wait for the three customers who are in the store to pay and leave, I cannot leave the building with customers in it."

"NO. I HAVE *insert random mumbly-joe event here* TO BE AT IN FIVE MINUTES! YOU PUMP GAS NOW."

Really? Because you've sat here for an absurdly long time before coming in and demanding this.

"Well, ma'am, I'm the only attendant on duty right now, I can help you as soon as the store clears out. That's it."

She huffs and puffs, and decides to have me check 13 different gift cards to see if they had balance left on them.

13.

Thirteen cock-sucking empty fucking gift cards.

And of course, it's my fault they're showing "empty" since none of them have been used!

So finally she puts $10 on a store credit card and walks back out to her car and sits in the driver seat, honking at me every two minutes while the other customers who were here first, and who are picking out their things are still shopping.

Almost a half hour later, and I did kind of feel bad about that, but not really, from the way she bursted in here, I finally got out and pumped her gas. Gas is like 3.40 a gallon or some shit and she ended up with 2.9 gallons.

She grabs my arm as I walk past, back in toward the store, and starts shouting that she "should get more gas than that, gas is 3.40 a gallon and she paid 10 dollars!"

I whip out my ipod, sick of her shit, and wrench away from her.

"Touch me again and I'll call the cops. As it stands, you just assaulted me. Now here, I have a calculator. $10.00 divided by the $3.40 ass-ragingly high gas price equals 2.942 gallons. That is what you received, that is what you paid for, don't come here again."

"How dare you talk to me like that, I'm a paying customer!"

"And I'm not required, as the only person on duty at this station right now, to leave this building for any reason. I'm sorry you have problems getting around, but maybe you should go to PamSu (hehe competitor) down that way" I point, "or the other OilSpill down that way," again, point "or any of the five Birthdays on Uni Ave. They all have two or more people working at any time. We do not. We are also the busiest station in this area, and, as such, we do not have time to leave the store and argue over whether or not we're "cheating people out of gas" at the pump. Because we're not. We just passed the mandatory yearly inspection with flying colors. So if you don't mind, I am going back inside, because it is cold, and I am only wearing a t shirt, and now my arm hurts."

Now, I understand, I do, I totally get the disabled thing. I spend a good deal of my time helping my mother, who is disabled, and my grandma and great aunt, both of which are disabled, and my mentally handicapped uncle. So, before the flame war starts on that end, let me just make that clear. I have nothing against people being disabled and needing extra help. But I will not stand by and be accused of cheating people, and I will not stand by and be abused or have my kindness taken advantage of.

--Drive-off Dramaqueen

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From u/BeautyNoBeast Tales From Retail:

So over the summer I worked 3rd shift in a gas station in my hometown, so I knew a lot of the people that came in. One of my favorite interactions was as follows.

I was in the middle of some boring cleaning chore or another when the little chime rang out letting me know the front doors had opened. I walked back to the counter to find my cousin waiting. The moment he sees me his face drops and I can tell what's coming.

Now I should mention at my gas station we keep small, easy to steal things behind the counter such as lighters, 5 hour energy, and... condoms.

He will be Mumbling Cousin, MC for short.

MC: Hey, could I get....(here he trailed off and I honestly couldn't hear him.)

Me: Sorry what?

He just gives me the death glare for making him repeat the dreaded phrase.

MC: I said... could I get a box of condoms?

We have a few different kinds so I walk back and ask him which kind he wants.

MC: just grab a box, I dont care what kind.

So I check him out and, while I have remained extremely professional and tried really hard not to laugh at him or make him feel even more awkward, as I handed him the bag I said my usual "have a good night." That set us both off laughing and he left flipping me off.(out of familial love of course.)

--u/BeautyNoBeast