Feburary, 2010:

I'm a cop and have been a cop for far too long, ever since I was 18. However, before 18 I worked in retail hell, however this isn't a story about that.

I was recently at a local McDicks behind a woman and he child. The child had a face full of snot so you can imagine how well this encounter was going to be.

After McBitch asked McSnot what he wanted she placed her order. The young slave behind the register was being the normal happy-go-lucky servant you'd expect. After placing the order McBitch goes to pay. But wait, McSnot has changed his mind.

My mom would have told me to shut up and it was too late. McBitch however has the slave change the order....4 different times.

After the money was paid McSnot ran off to play in the playground, surely sharing his snot with the other kids while mom waits on the food. She gets it then that's when shit hits the fan.

Apparently between the 5 different orders McBitch really don't remember what she ordered...only that what she got was wrong.

McBitch begins cussing out this poor slave. I can tell that this is a relatively new slave as she doesn't know how to respond to this verbal assault. Now, I was here with my girlfriend (hey not all the times do you have to take them to fancy restaurants) so I was not in the mood to step in. As sexy as I think I am in uniform I do like to stay off when I'm off.

All this of course until McBitch grabs a tray and throws it across the lobby. At this point I still really don't know what the fuck she is so pissed off about as McDicks manager is trying to fix her problem. However McBitch's vocabulary seemed to be limited to "dumb whore" and "stupid slut".

Well I've had enough. I started feeling bad for the slave and even the manager who was cowarding away. I step in between McBitch and the counter.

Now per our policy I must carry my badge and gun everywhere I go even when off duty. She hasn't seen this yet.

Me: You need to stop.

McBitch: You need to fucking move out of my way before I bust you in the fucking face.

(Seriously...still haven't figured out why she's so mad)

Me: I got a better idea. How about you get your crusty ass out of this store before I put your ass out myself.

(At this point I roll my shirt over my belt so she could see the badge and gun)

McBitch: This dumb bitch can't get an order right and won't give me what I want but you're throwing me out?

Me: Yep (could have probably had a better come back but hey it worked)

She attempted to grab the bag of food sitting on the counter. I snatch it away from her.

Me: Nope you're going to leave that here since apparently it wasn't right.

McBitch: I already paid for that!

Me: No, you apparently paid for something else that they couldn't get right. Now consider that a donation to McDonalds Fund for the trouble you've caused here.

McBitch: Aw hell nah I'm not leaving here without my money or my food!

McManager: Ma'am here's your money.

I block her from getting it.

Me: Listen here, either you go get your kid from that playground and get your smelly ass out of this restaurant or I promise you the fines I will have you paying will make it to where you can't afford the dollar menu here. On top of that this poor girl you've been yelling at won't have to worry about cleaning the floor for awhile because I'm about ready to put your ass on the ground.

I was close enough to her face now that I realized that when I called her smelly it apparently wasn't just an insult.

McBitch gathers McSnot and they drive away in their McBettle.

The manager thanks me and the poor slave, who's visibly shaking at this point, gives me my meal for free.

Guess I do have to thank McBitch for my free meal :/

---McCop, Badge #666

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From Pharmacy Psycho

I started this story in "The Rudest Thing a Customer has Ever Done to Me"...

I originally got the job at Hardee's (that's Carl's Jr. on the west coast) working the night shift to pay for my hobby of showing dogs. (Don't let anyone fool you into thinking you will make money breeding dogs. It's really quite the opposite!) I was working nights because I had 2 young daughters, my husband worked days and I had weekends off to show. It was a really nice arrangement for me.

As I was saying, I had been in a car wreck, had hit my head on the steering wheel (yes, I always wear a seatbelt), and was experiencing headaches afterwards. Normally we were required to eat in the small break room in the back, but because it was January and very slow, my terrific manager said I could take my drink out to the dining room where it was quiet. At that time, there were no customers in the restaurant.

About half-way through my dinner break, four guys come in that are in their late teens or early 20's. Definitely out of high school and definitely troublemakers. They ordered their meals, and out of the whole restaurant, they decided to pick a table two down from me. If my visor hadn't been on the table, they wouldn't have known I worked there since I had my coat on.

I was being very still and very quiet just trying to get through my dinner break so that my head would stop pounding. It was really hurting (I had never had a migraine before, so I didn't realize what I was experiencing). A minute later, a spitball skitters across the table and lands under my crossed arms. SHIT! I couldn't believe it!

The guys were all snickering and thinking they were funny, and I was hoping that was the end of it, but it wasn't. Another one landed in my HAIR! Okay... now I was pissed. Growing up, I had been teased a lot in school because my brother was "different", and here I was in my late 20's and I was just too fucking old for this, and so were they. I decided that if it happened one more time, I was going to have to say something... SPLAT! They nailed me right at the top of my head, and broke up laughing... that was it, I'd HAD IT!

Before I could stop myself, my almost-full, LARGE cup of Diet Coke ended up in the lap of the prime offender! OH SHIT! There went my job. The guy of course was all indignant...

Him: "WHY THE HELL DID YOU DO THAT???"

Me: "Maybe I don't like having spitballs shot at me?"

Him: "What spitballs? I'm going to report you!"

Me: "Go ahead, Asshole!"

Him (to manager): "Look what she did to me!"

Me: "He was shooting spitballs at me!"

Him: "I was not!"

Me (holds out handful of spitballs)

Manager: "GET OUT!"

Him: "I'm calling your boss!"

Manager: "Go ahead. Want his number?"

Manager (to me): "True, I know those guys are trouble-makers and if you had to hit one, you hit the right one. But it does make us look bad when you do things like that."

Me: "Sorry. I have a headache and I don't like being abused."

Manager: "They won't call. And even if they did, I would back you up 100%."

Sadly, I had to quit my job a week later due to the headaches, and even ended up selling off my dogs. I still suffer from migraines to this day (20 years later). My manager died in a car accident a year later herself, and that was hard for me. She wasn't wearing her seatbelt. She told me she was saved by not wearing it one time so she never believed in them again.

--Pharmacy Psycho

This story was originally posted February, 2012

Good day, fellow RHU-ers!

I am out of retail for a while now, yet I had a recent crusty encounter- I work as a tutor for research methods in psychology, for the fourth year now, and I must say that I absolutely adore my job!

If I didn't have to get up so early for it (8 am class, urgh), I would do it for free.

The class works like this: The students come over, we hand them work sheets and they solve the problems in there. If they have questions, they can ask one of us.

Normally the students are super nice, thankful for the help, and sweet (as they are in the first semester, so they ask cute little newbie-questions), but a few weeks ago, I had my first crusty encounter EVER!

I was sitting on my bench, scanning the class for raised hands, and this stupid fuck snaps his fingers, whistles, and as I look at him in disbelief, he waves at me in this "Italian mafioso" manner- outstretched arm, chin raised, hand does not move, only the fingers do a "come here" motion.

Really, he did all the disrespectful "calling someone" behaviours at once. Do there exist any more? I think there would be only shouting "garcon!!" left to be more of an asshole.

My boss was sitting right next to me and all she did was raise an eyebrow.

I went over there, ready to rumble.

Stupid fuck: Yeah, I don't know how to solve this problem, can´t find the approach.

Me: Ok, if you have a question, I am happy to help you. You can raise your hand, or call my name, just like the other students do. What you cannot do to call me, is snap your fingers, whistle or gesture like a mafioso.

Stupid fuck: What? Why?

Me: Because I am not a dog.

Stupid fuck: Oh, come on. It's not such a big deal.

Me: Well, you heard me. If you want help, call one of us in an appropriate manner or no one will react.

With these words, I turned around and went back to bench, where my boss was still sitting. I told her what hat happened and luckily, she approved.

The stupid fuck sat there for a while, stared at his paper, then packed his things and went home. I think that he learned his lesson, as last week, he raised his hand when he had a question.

--Soft Ice Girl

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From December, 2010:

The hotel manager in this story gets a Retail Balls Award for their swift and supportive action in dealing with a homophobic asshole customer:

Hey RHU,

It's Dan and I'm back at the Front Desk. I had left the hotel to lease apartments because the hotel is a good half-hour away and this leasing job was right out my front door (literally...I was leasing apartments in my own apartment complex). Because of the wonderful training I had in how to lease apartments I became frustrated to the point of tears (I have anxiety attacks when I don't know what I'm doing...wonderful when what I'm doing is my only source of income, right?)

Anyhoo, my FOM gave me my job back and let me tell you...I appreciate this job so much more just because I know what I'm doing and I'm good at it.

Back to the story at hand...I got called a fag at work, RHU. I'll be honest, it's the first time in my 21 years of life that it was said with such hate and to my face.

I've had it said behind my back once before, but when I turned around and said "Excuse me, what did you say?" the douche-tard shut his vomit-hole.

When this happened, I was so taken aback. Our hotel has a policy that requires people checking in to provide their credit card and picture ID. When Mr. H came up to me, he told me he didn't have his card, but asked if we could charge to the one that was on file. (We only do that for the highest tier of our loyalty program. He was the bottom tier.)

Me: Sorry, I would need to have the card to I can swipe it.

Mr.H: Well if my girlfriend comes and gives you her card, can you just charge the one that's on file?

Me: No, I'm sorry it doesn't work that way.

He goes away and gets on his phone, so I continue to play Freecell on my computer because it's the only game that isn't blocked (and it's awesome). He comes up again maybe half an hour later with his girlfriend to check in.

Mr.H: So I called THEM and they charged my card for the room and they said all I had to do was show my ID. 

I assume by "Them" he meant Schmilton, so I check the reservation, and instead of "Guarantee by Credit Card" his reservation noted "Full-Prepayment" which solved half of his problem and caused all of mine. See, even if the room is prepaid we still need a credit card for incidentals (room service, phone, etc;).

Me: Okay it looks like the room has been payed for, I'll just need a credit card for incidentals.

Mr.H: Did you not listen to me? I already payed for the room, they told me all I needed to do was show my ID.

Me: I agree that the room was paid for, but I still need a card for incidental charges.

Mr.H: Listen to what I'm saying. I don't have a credit card on me, is there a manager here I can speak to?

Me: I'm the only one here to assist you at the moment, and that doesn't change the fact that our hotel's policy is to collect a credit card upon check in.

Mr.H: So what do you want me to do?

Me (at this point, I'm shaking from frustration): I want you to come back with either a credit card or cash to leave as a deposit.

Mr.H: Fuck you, fag!

At this point, he picks up his bags and storms out with his ugly girlfriend in tow.

Me: Have a great night!

It was the only come-back I could think of at the time. I honestly wanted to incite him to come back because then I would get the pleasure of calling the police to escort him off property and issue a no-trespass warrant. Alas, the only thing I could do at that point was call my FOM who went livid.

FOM: OMG I CAN'T BELIEVE HIM I WANT YOU TO CALL SCHMILTON AND HAVE HIM BANNED FROM OUR HOTEL OMGZORS RAAAAWR!

I <3 her. I ended up calling the loyalty program's Guest Assistance hotline and had them mark in his profile about being abusive to hotel staff, that way people are aware. And my FOM get's the task of sending him a letter telling him he is no longer welcome back on property, lol.

So yeah, pretty intense moment. All I want to say is that I love my job even more because my manager will go to the ends of the earth for me and the rest of the team =D

--Dan

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From October, 2010:

A high end department store slave gets a Retail Balls Award and MAJOR kudos for confronting a custy with inappropriate behavior. This story will make you cheer, RHUers! Enjoy:

Another long time reader, first time submitter here.

I've spent my last two lovely years in retail hell from Old Gravy to my current job at Bloomingfails.

I've had my share of rude, entitled, to just plain stupid custys. I was lucky enough to encounter one the other day and of all the crazy retail encounters I've had I don't think anything has ever shocked me more than this.

I'm at the watch bay at Bloomingfails making everything look beautiful and such.

A man about 6'2 in a business suit comes in with his wife trailing after him. I look up and say delightfully, "Hi, how are you doing today?"

Before I even finish, he flips me the bird.

YES, you read correctly, straight up just gives me the finger for asking him how he was.

I hear his wife say, "Oh my god, what's wrong with you?"

Clearly, she disapproves but doesn't apologize to me on his behalf.

Now I'm a 5'7, very skinny 19 year old female and I don't take shit from anyone.

After I get over the initial shock and see them in the store about 5 minutes later, I march right up to him and say in my sternest voice, "Excuse me but I don't appreciate you flipping me the bird and if you harass another associate one more time I WILL call security and I WILL have them escort you out," and walk away.

I look behind me after a moment and see him walking up to me.

He apologizes and says he thought I was someone else. ????

I ask who he thought I was and he said he mistook me for another associate who had helped him the other day.

Okay... still not an acceptable reason to flip off a sales associate.

After apologizing to me he hugs me.

What???

Yes, hugs me.

Whatever, I got the apology I deserved.

What makes someone think it's okay to just flip off a sales associate?

Just because I work in retail doesn't mean you can treat me like shit.

I WILL call someone out, I always have,  and if a manager ever gets on my case for it I will tell them that if the company stands for abuse of it's employees, it's not a company I need to be working for.

I have many more stories to come.

Haven't come up with a name yet either.

Any suggestions?

--Bloomingfails Slave

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