I took them off him, as he told me that they were a present for his mummy.
His mum was standing just by the tills, so she was watching over him.
He gave me the right money (most dresses are £5 at the moment, so it was only £20), and I gave him his receipt and as I was going to bag them up, he said "can you put them in a bag please so mummy can't see them?"
I gave him his bag, and he skipped off, happy as Larry. His mum later told me that he'd saved up his birthday and Christmas money, along with some money she gave him!
He said his please and thankyou's, and was probably one of the most polite customers that I've ever served
There is hope yet for the future generation.
Keep on fighting them retail battles,
--The Science Ninja
It's Gas Slave Emma with yet another wonderful tale of obnoxious custys.
So a few weeks ago I began wearing Hijab to work (For those of you not in the know, Hijab commonly refers to the head scarf that muslim ladies wear, but it really means the entire practice of covering oneself I guess [Google rules!]) partly because I wanted to be more appropriate and approachable for the muslim crowd and my boss, but mostly because I just really love the idea, style, and look of it.
I'm not converting. I'm very happy spiritually. But Oh My GODS, people seem to not be able to comprehend that it's a personal decision.
Case in point, regular customer comes in this evening to buy his cancer sticks and looks up whilst counting his money.
"What is that a new rule this year? That you have to wear that thing?"
I look at him incredulously. "Um, no. I've been wearing this since mid-December."
"Oh, So you a terrorist or somethin?"
I roll my eyes. "No."
And another one.
"What, so is Jim Bob forcing you to wear that?" -another regular custy.
"Um, honey, if you knew me, you'd know the only people who could ever force me to do ANYTHING would be the police or the courts."
I can understand that I probably will have to get used to hearing "So are you muslim/a terrorist now?" for a while, but ugh it's getting irritating.
AND! I went shopping to get ice cream at the local Puppy (Hah!) grocery store with a good friend whilst wearing my cover and I almost had to smack a few people, including the cashier! for calling me a Sand N***** as I walked by or attempted to pay for my groceries.
I did end up reporting the cashier. That was uncalled for. Totally uncalled for.
Keep on truckin, RHUers,
--Gas Slave Emma
Please stop trying to fool yourself. The only reason that I'm being nice to you is because I'm being financially compensated for it, kind of like a hooker.
The fact that I'm smiling and making eye contact with you does not mean I totally want your flabby, sweaty, I-have-hair-growing-in-the-most-random-of-patches bod.
Please understand that if we had encountered each other under any other set of circumstances, I'd have taken a lemon zester to your testicles by this point.
The only reasons I'm restraining myself now are A) I'm at work and they kind of frown on us mutilating the customers (it's in the handbook somewhere) and B) The lemon zesters are way over there.
In short, I don't want you, and no, it's not because I'm a lesbian. It's because I think people like you should've been chlorinated out of the gene pool before you had the opportunity to take your first, miserable breath.
Stop giving me your number (which I'll just use to pizza you), stop openly oogling my tits (I know, they're lovely and that's the closest you'll ever get to them) and stop complaining to my manager that I was rude because I rejected your awkward, 7th-grade-style advances.
Isn't there a cousin you could be having better luck with?
Die in a firey landslide you complete and utter waste,
CiCi here with a tale of my very first Crazy Custy Encounter.
It actually happened almost three years ago at my first job, and frankly I can't believe I forgot about it.
So here goes. Long story is long, sorry.
My first job was at a small local amusement park, "Hell on Earth," as I affectionately refer to it. This park hires kids as young as fourteen, but fourteen and fifteen year olds are pretty much stuck in food and beverage because of child labor laws (I think that's the reason).
I was fifteen, so I was hired as a food and beverage worker. The park opened the first weekend in May, and I remember working it and thinking all day, "this job is going to SUCK."
Side rant: the management at that place is the worst ever. My orientation the week prior to the season opening consisted of being in a room with other food and beverage workers and going over food safety laws, and then being given a quick tour of the park. That's it. We weren't shown where each food stand was or what they were called, or how to work a register. I was given a crash course in register on my first day, and it was SO FUCKING COMPLICATED. Also, I wandered around the park to find my assigned location because I had NO IDEA what the schedule was referring to. /end side rant
This story takes place on maybe my fourth day of work, which would have been the second weekend of May. The park was fairly crowded because it was a nice day. And of course we had a long line. I was on register, and there were maybe four other employees plus a supervisor hanging around because we were overstaffed that day.
I was having a LOVELY time on register because the prices for food inside the park were ridiculously high and people weren't allowed to bring food in, which forced them to buy from the food stands.
I had this conversation multiple times:
Customer: Hi, I'll have a small ice cream cone, and two Diet Cokes.
Me: Okay, that'll be $7.50.
Customer: Never mind, that's too expensive. *walks away*
I would then be forced to call my supervisor to void out the order, because as an employee I wasn't allowed to do that.
Meanwhile the line of people would be growing more and more impatient. The stand I was working was the only place in the park that made funnel cakes, and since the majority of park visitors are tourists, they are anxious to have a REAL funnel cake (the area I'm from is well known for funnel cakes).
And of course, one of our two fryers was out of commission that day. Of course, this meant that EVERY SINGLE FUCKING CUSTOMER ORDERED A FUNNEL CAKE.
Even with my supervisor working as fast as she could on our one functioning fryer, the orders piled up to the point where it was about a half hour wait for a funnel cake.
So then when people would order one, I would tell them as a courtesy, "Just so you know, it's going to be about a 30 minute wait for the funnel cake."
They would then say either "That's fine, I'll wait," or "Oh, never mind then."
So people are waiting for their funnel cakes. One lady who waited the full 30 minutes to get hers came up and ordered another one because the first one was so good.
And then it happened...
A woman steps up to my register and orders a few drinks and of course, a funnel cake.
I respond, "Okay, the funnel cake is going to be about a 30 minute wait."
The woman, who had been nice up to this point, looks at me and says "WHAT?"
Startled, I repeat that there is a 30 minute wait for funnel cakes. The woman, who will henceforth be referred to as Psycho Bitch, FREAKS OUT: "WHY ARE YOU TELLING ME I CAN'T HAVE A FUNNEL CAKE?!?!"
Some people had been short with me, but no one had been so blatantly rude.
Luckily, the first lady (who was waiting at the counter for her second funnel cake) spoke up in my defense. "She didn't say you couldn't have a funnel cake, she was just letting you know that there is a wait."
Psycho Bitch: "NO, SHE SAID I COULDN'T HAVE A FUNNEL CAKE AND I DON'T UNDERSTAND WHY!!! I JUST WANT A FUNNEL CAKE!!"
Perhaps now is the time to mention that Psycho Bitch was a Girl Scout leader who was surrounded by maybe five girls from her troop, all of whom looked to be about eight.
They witnessed ALL of this.
Cool Custy: There are a lot of other people who ordered funnel cakes and they only have one fryer working. The funnel cakes are really good; they're worth waiting for. I'm waiting for my second one, actually.
Psycho Bitch: (muttering) Well, that's a long time to wait, I don't know if I want to wait that long, half an hour is ridiculous...
Cool Custy: They're doing the best they can. Give them a break, they're just kids. I know how it is, I used to work in the restaurant industry.
Psycho Bitch: *snorts and mutters under her breath* "Used to"....
Cool Custy: *gets ALL up in her face* YES, I USED TO BUT I LEFT TO BE A SINGLE MOTHER TO MY WONDERFUL DAUGHTER!
Psycho Bitch: *snorts and mutters again* "Single mother."
Cool Custy: *gets closer* YES, I LEFT MY BOYFRIEND BECAUSE HE MOLESTED MY DAUGHTER!!!! I left my job to take care of her so I wouldn't have to leave her with people like YOU while I worked!
Psycho Bitch: I hope she's not with people like you either! (which doesn't make sense... because obviously the daughter IS with people like her mom... namely, her mom)
This was followed by unintelligible screaming on both of their parts. I had been standing at the register this whole time and was now close to tears because I was so freaked out.
My manager threatened to call security and they both moved off to the side and toned it down a little, but not much.
My manager did end up calling security before it escalated to physical violence, but the thing is that Single Mom walked off before security got there, and I saw Psycho Bitch talking to security and crying, probably playing the victim.
SERIOUSLY?!? You're a fucking GIRL SCOUT LEADER, you cuntnugget! For the love of Ray J, you're supposed to be setting an example for those girls! AGHAGHBLARG.
I didn't actually get angry about this until after I got my second job and toughened up some. When I thought back, the memory pissed me off beyond belief.
There's no excuse for acting like that. Although the pure absurdity of it also makes me laugh: the fact that Psycho Bitch started freaking out needlessly over funnel cakes and ended up in a fight that got VERY personal very quickly, due to her own bitchery.
I only lasted the month of May at that job, and I only worked weekends, so I probably only worked there for about six days total. I think I gave my notice at the end of my fourth shift.
One of the best days of my life was the day I walked out of that place knowing I never had to go back I swore I'd never work in food again, and I haven't.
I've now worked at my second job (in children's clothing) for seventeen months, and I'm much happier. Not that I haven't encountered other custys, I CERTAINLY have, but I think something about ordering food brings out the very worst in people. Hunger + custys = BAD.
Also, I love my coworkers and management is MUCH more competent at my current job.
We're kind of like a family, and our nickname for our store manager is "Mama" because we're all her kids, since she has none of her own.
:D Much love,