From RHUer

I come into work for my afternoon shift through the front of the store. Things aren't looking too bad customer wise... aaand I jinxed it with that thought.

A kid comes sprinting straight up to me who is, give or take, about six years old. His eyes are all on my purse which, I'll admit, is pretty nice. I managed to snag a C-Named brand that is patterned with the letter C in pretty teal and lavender colors. It's my precious, and it will take two Hobbits and a Fellowship to make me part with it.

The kid comes to a stop, eyes glued to my purse. "Can I see that purse?"

I get the creeping feeling of "this is going to go south," and give him a small, tight smile. I move my arm a little so he can see the pattern better but keep a grip on it. "Pretty cool, huh?"

He frowns at me a little, "No, I said I want to see that purse," and reaches for it.

I promptly tuck it firmly against my side and say, "Sorry honey, look with your eyes only, okay?"

Kid: "No. You're going to give it to me to look at."

The fuck I am!

Me: "No, I'm not, son."

Kid, turning it up to 11 instantly: "YOU CAN'T TELL ME 'NO!' GIVE ME THE PURSE OR I'M TELLING MY MOM!"

Me: "Go right ahead and tell her, kiddo."

The kid spins around and sprints off.

I'm no idiot. The moose will be loose in the field, and I want my personal belongings nowhere near this train wreck. Since I'm right next to the employee door, I dart inside, stuff my purse in my locker and lock it.

A few minutes later I'm signed in and walking the floor to the front of the store.

Kid's voice: "THERE SHE IS, MOM!"

Sigh. So help me, if this is a sign of how my day is going to go...

On the plus side, I can already see a coworker on the phone, calling the manager. We're good about spotting those huge, flashing, neon signs that warn of danger.

The raging woman comes storming up to me just as I reach the registers.

Mom: "Did you just tell my child 'no?!' "

Me, Big McIntoshing it to the extreme: "Eeyup."

Mom: "How dare you! You do not tell my child 'no!' "

Kid: "She wouldn't let me hold her purse!"

Mom: "Where is the purse?"

Me: "I put it away."

Mom: "My son wants to see your purse! Go get it for him!"

Me, Big McIntoshing it again: "Nnope."

Does it hurt when the fires of hell burn in your eyes? Asking for a friend.

Mom: "My. Son. Wants. To. Hold. Your. Purse. Go. Get. It."

Me; Big McIntosh has possessed my vocal cords: "Nnope."

Mom: "You will get your purse and give it to my son or I will have you fired."

Me: "Nnope." (This time I emphasize the 'p' sound in 'nope' with a soft popping sound at the end.)

Mom: "Manager! NOW!"

Me: "Eeyup." (another pop on the 'p' sound.)

The manager is jogging our way, expression confused: "What's going--"

Mom: "I want this bitch fired!"

Manager: "I heard something about a purse...?"

Mom: "My son asked to hold a purse, and she refused to hand it to him!"

Me: "That's because the purse is mine, ma'am."

Manager, eyebrow raised: "My employee doesn't have to let your son hold her personal property, ma'am."

Mom, raging: "You can't refuse my son service!"

Manager glances at me, and I can read his thoughts; 'Yes, actually, we can.' I can actually see his jaw work. Huh. So that's what 'literally biting your tongue' looks like. I've never seen that before. I'm learning new things today.

Manager, speaking carefully, calmly and slowly: "Ma'am, we have purses on the floor that your son is perfectly welcome to hold."

Kid: "I WANT THAT ONE!"

Mom: "I don't care about those purses. My son wanted a specific purse, and this bitch refused him."

Manager: "I repeat; my employee doesn't have to let your son hold her personal property. Now, unless you actually want to shop for product that we're actually selling, I think we're done here."

Kid: "I WANT THE PURSE!"

Mom, seething, "I'll call corporate!"

Manager, smiling: "Here's their phone number."

Kid: "MAKE HER GIVE ME THE PURSE, MOMMY!"

The woman snatches the slip of paper out of his hand and storms off, angrily screeching child in tow.

Manager: "[My name], go into the back and... I dunno, hide or something until I call you."

I stayed in the back for quite a while. Found out later the woman whipped out her cell phone like, three feet away from the door, jabbed her finger on it like the phone had personally insulted her, and ranted into it for several minutes.

Our phone rang a few minutes after that, and the woman stared at my manager with an expression of smug superiority as the manager picked it up.

Big Wig: "[Manager], you're not going to believe the call I just got, and I'm not even sure if your employees are just bored or what..."

Manager: "Oh I bet I can believe it. Let me guess, some lady just called because my employee wouldn't give her personal property to a kid."

(Beat of silence.)

Big Wig: "...So this isn't a prank?"

According to my coworkers, the Mom's smug expression wavered when my manager grinned widely, then laughed.

Manager: "Nope. Sorry. It's an actual thing."

There was a long, deep sigh. My manager said he could almost see the Big Wig pinching the bridge of his nose.

Big Wig: "I'll call her back and tell her that since no policies were broken, no action will be taken at this time. If she harasses your employees, just have her removed by security, or the police. Ban her if she pulls it."

The lady's phone rang. She snatched it up, and her face twisted into an expression of 'lemon, no sugar,' and barked out, "I will never shop at your store again!"

She then pulled her phone away from her ear as though she couldn't believe what she was hearing, glared murderously at my manager, and disappeared into the sunset.

For once, the promise was kept, and there was rejoicing throughout the land.

--RHUer

From RHUer

In 2003, I was working for a leading defence industry company as a engineer.

A guy that I worked with decided I wasn't getting enough sex, (where this idea even came from, besides his own twisted little mind? No idea.) and presented me with a cucumber-shaped vibrator in front of a room full of male engineers.

Many thought it was absolutely hilarious, but a few were embarrassed. None reprimanded the guy. I had to do that myself.

His response? "Obviously you DO need that, if you're going to be so uptight about a little joke."

I reported him to HR, a female rep came and spoke to me and took the 'gift'. I learned later that he'd been spoken to by HR, but I never received an apology or any follow-up.

In fact, I was moved out of the area and later made 'redundant'.

--RHUer

From u/Lnzy1, TalesFromRetail

I work in a large thrift store about 40 miles outside of Birmingham AL. It's a Christian run organization that has several ministries that it gives to and the one we give to helps battered women and children. Each location has it's own that it gives to. I think last year is was somewhere around 51% of our net profit that we gave them. Several million dollars easily. And while I am not Christian, I love what the store does and the people who work there are awesome.

Now on to the real meat of the story. Our basic operations is run through donations. People can come to the store and drop off their junk where it's taken to the back, weighed, counted, processed, graded, labeled, and then finally put onto the sales floor. One piece of clothing will pass between four to five people before reaching the customer. And we also do what we call 'specials' which is when we send our trucks to your house to pick stuff up. Mostly furniture.

Now, when all is said and done, we have invested labor, space, time, and fuel into getting these items to sell at our store. But this is semi rural Alabama. To say people are cheap would be charitable and there is always someone who wants to haggle and barter. We don't do either. And they will throw out a line like "But you got it for free!"

No...no we didn't. But out of all of those times I have been told this, one in particular sticks out and still makes me rage a little.

I was helping out the front end while the main lady was taking her break. No big deal. It's not busy, we have all our cashiers in, and there hasn't been many calls for specials. Overall a pleasant morning. That is until Miss Alabama walks up to the counter decked out in hounds-tooth and red, carrying a very nice handbag, with a such a sour expression on her baboon ass lips that you might begin to wonder if baboon ass wasn't what she was tasting.

In her hand she is holding a small statue that I had helped my assistant manager research online just that morning. It was a smallish sculpture by some famous artist that was worth a good $200. It depicted a man being held up by angel Jesus set on a wooden base. Campy and old, but we are firmly planted in the buckle of the Bible Belt. Jesus sells here. We had a sticker on it for $24.99.

I smile and ask her if there was anything I could do for her and she immediately snaps a quick, "Yes there is! Tell me how can you charge so much for something that y'all got for free?"

It took me a moment to formulate an answer. "We price our items based on their value."

"Well it's missing a finger!" Yes, Jesus did not have a right index finger anymore.

"That's why it's only $25."

"That's outrageous. And look at it! It's dirty!"

"Oh, the dirt is free." It was a bad attempt at making her smile or at least bring the reigns in a bit, but no dice. If anything it just pissed her off more.

"This is a thrift store! Not an antique shop! You can't sell other people's junk and charge this much!"

"We do give half of what we make to [Charity's name]. And they have to pay us somehow."

"I'm not paying thirty dollars for a broken knick knack."

"That's actually [Insert name of piece] by [artist's name]. One just like it sold on ebay for $200 last week." (I've long since forgotten both pieces of information).

Baboon lips intensify and her eyes narrowed. Now I know her scheme. We have plenty of people who come to buy stuff and resell it on ebay. It's not new, we don't discourage it, and in fact most of them are valued customers.

One guy I'll call Joe comes in and buys up to $400 worth of shoes at a time to repair and resell. He's awesome.

This lady? I don't like her.

"I'll give you $4."

"Sorry, our prices are firm. $24.99."

"Well then I don't want it!"

She plants the statue down on the service desk and stands there expectantly.

"Alright," I said and put it in the 'go back' box. Her face morphed through several varieties of indignant rage before she marched off. The regular service lady returns from lunch and I am free. A few minutes later I see Miss Alabama walking around with the statue again and she approaches the floor supervisor. The floor supervisor is a sweet older lady who is devoutly Christian, but with just enough sass to make her one of my favorite coworkers.

"This didn't have a price on it," she says sweetly. "How much would you say this is? I found it over near the knick knacks."

So much lies. But I've been in retail long enough to know going up there to declare her a liar is all forms of nope. So I just sit and listen.

"Oh yes, I remember this piece! Such beautiful work!. You know, I love me some Jesus!" She says this all the time, but it's still funny when she says it to customers. "Too bad it's busted and so dirty. So I'll say..."

She hummed and thought about it for a few seconds before turning back to the lady and saying, "$34.99."

The face of Miss Alabama baboon lips was so delicious. She looked like she wanted to start in on the floor supervisor the way she did me, but bit back her bile and simply said, "Oh...well thank you."

She marched up to the register and by the time she got up to check out, the original "$24.99" sticker had miraculously returned! I waited till she had left before going up to my supervisor and telling her about what had transpired between Miss Alabama Baboon lips and myself.

"Oh, I know. Best way to get people trying to scam you out of paying the sticker price is to quote them a higher one when the sticker goes 'missing'. If there's one thing I won't tolerate, it's stealing from those trying to do God's work!"

--u/Lnzy1

From u/StainedFingers, TalesFromRetail

For background, I work the pumps at a gas station/convenience store in a state that doesn't allow customers to pump their own gas.

In our chain, we're trained to do the following with debit/credit card transactions: get the details of what they want, take their card, swipe it at the pump, return the card to the customer, and then pump the gas. In the year and change I've worked here, this has worked as intended; there's no confusion and everyone gets their fuel.

Until last night.

A guy drove up in some mid-range car not important to this story (and given that I'm terrible with cars, couldn't tell you what make or model anyway). His particular vehicle had the tank on the passenger side, which is important. The guy himself was in his mid-thirties and pretty average-looking. Definitely nothing that would peg him as an imbecile or on any mind-altering substances.

I'll be Me and he can be Wack, short for Wackadoodle.

Me: Hey, what can I get you?

Wack: (as he's handing me his card) Just $10 regular, please. Need enough to get me home.

Me: You got it.

So I did my thing, which I've done thousands of times before. I walked over to the other side of his car to the pumps, ran his card, and brought the card back. He looked surprised, which should've been foreshadowing for the rest of my interactions with him, but I chalked it up to me being deceptively fast and a light step (I'm a larger gentleman) and having caught him by surprise with the speed of my returning his card to him.

I then returned to the pump, prepared to open his gas tank and, you know, give him what he asked for. So I wasn't prepared for him to start his car and drive off.

I blinked a few times as scenarios ran through my head. Did he have an emergency and have to leave immediately? Did he not have enough on his card to cover the $10 and suddenly remember that fact? Did he have more in his tank than he thought and not need any tonight?

Oh well, nothing I can do about it. I cancel the transaction and go on with my night.

Twenty minutes or so later, I was informed by my manager that an infuriated customer called, claiming that he'd gotten halfway home before his car died and that I'd stolen his money.

Given the fact that I had no other $10 card transactions that night, it was pretty easy for them to determine that the transaction had been cancelled. After explaining what happened, we could only surmise that the customer thought that I'd pumped $10 worth of gas in the 10 seconds it took me to run his card and give it back.

--u/StainedFingers

From kiwi-ms, TalesFromRetail

I worked at a bank and was always there first to deactivate the alarm. Then we would let staff in as they arrived. This would be about an hour before we opened.

One day had a customer barge in when a staff member came in and refuse to leave. I explained that the vault was still locked and we weren't open. I stood in his way and wouldn't let him past the doors. I'm only 5.3 he was 6.2 but I wouldn't back down; I was the senior staff member on site at the time.

I had to threaten to call the police to get him to leave, and he threatened to come back with a shotgun to sort me out. Had to do a police report, but of course we knew who he was. Found out he didn't even have any guns.

His accounts were ultimately closed and a cheque sent to him for his $$. And the police did charge him for threatening behaviour. Not sure the outcome of the police charge, but having to reapply at another bank could take some time, so the cheque couldn't be used till a new bank open accounts for him.

No cash available for him for a while because he had to wait to receive the cheque through the mail, so no cards or credit card. I like to think that was a miserable wait.

--kiwi-ms

From u/red_nuts, MaliciousCompliance

About 20 years ago, I was a programmer for a company which provided contract services to other companies. So, I'd get a gig, work it for a few months, then the salesman would find me another gig.

My previous contract had been fulfilled, and I was on the bench waiting for another gig along with an unusually large number of my colleagues. The salesmen (I use that term because at that company they were all men) were frantic, trying to make all of the benched employees profitable again.

A salesman (Jim) came to me and said "I have an interview for you at (big credit card company in Phoenix) next week". I told him that I had a planned vacation.

Jim almost had a stroke. "Why didn't you tell me about your vacation?" Of course, I had told him. Reminded him several times in fact. And I reminded him once again.

"Well you call me as soon as you're back in town", he said angrily, and he gave me his home number.

You know how airlines are. They promise you'll be back at a certain time, then weather happens, and crews timeout, and maintenance is required on the jet. Because of delays, I didn't get back home until about 2 in the morning on a Sunday night.

I had strict instructions. I found Jim's home number and dialed it. A woman's voice sleepily answered "hello"? This was Jim's wife. I was loving this.

"Hi! this is red_nuts from (mumblety) Corporation. Can I talk to Jim please?"

She put Jim on, and I said "This is red_nuts, I'm back from my vacation!" He asked me why I was calling him so late. "I'm calling because you told me to, and you gave me your home number!" I was being as perky as I could be at 2AM.

"Red_nuts, I'll see you tomorrow"

I did not get into any trouble whatsoever for following his instructions exactly.

--u/red_nuts