Thank You For Shopping At ApocalypseMart

(It’s Halloween, and I’m dressed up as a vampire and wearing a pentacle necklace. The crew is planning on going out after work for a party.)

Me: “Did you find everything you needed tonight?”

Customer: “Yes, thank you. Can I just say that I think it was very nice of them to let you all dress up for tonight? I really like what you have on.”

Me: “Thank you, ma’am.”

Customer: “But don’t you think you took it a little too far?”

Me: “Uh… took what too far?”

Customer: “Well, I understand that you’re supposed to be some type of vampire, but don’t you think that necklace is taking it too far?”

Me: “Oh, that. That’s not part of my costume. I always wear that.”

Customer: *loudly* “Well if you want to risk burning in H*** for wearing that devil worshiping symbol, that’s just fine with me… but they shouldn’t be letting you wear that here in a public place!”

Me: *sarcastically* “Well, why shouldn’t they let me wear it? After all, we all practice together and I’m the high priestess. In fact as soon as you leave, we’re gonna close up the store, start a bonfire in the parking lot, and then dance naked around it until dawn.”

Customer: *to one of my managers*“Aren’t you going to do anything about what she said to me?”

Manager #1: “Yes, ma’am. As soon as you leave, we’re going to close the store.”

Customer: “THAT’S IT?!”

Manager #2: “Of course not, ma’am. You heard the rest of our… plans.”

(And with the kind of timing that only happens once in a lifetime, a stock boy unwittingly walked out of the back room while taking his uniform shirt off at the same time. The customer practically ran out of the store.)

-> Thank You For Shopping At ApocalypseMart

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They’re A Card-Carrying Member Of The A**-Hole Club

(I get a lot of rude people throwing their credit cards at me. One day it happened one time too many.)

Rude Customer: *blathering on phone, throws card at me*

(The card falls in crack between my desk and wall.)

Me: “Oops, can’t reach that. Do you have another card?” *big grin*

Rude Customer: *to phone* “Hold on a second.” *to me* “You’ll get that, b****, or else!” *shakes fist*

Me: *bigger grin* “Can’t. Now, pay or lose your room!”

(She rants expletives at me, and I just smile, which only makes her madder. Finally the manager is called.)

Rude Customer: “She dropped my card and that’s my only one!”

Me: “Not true; she threw it at me. Check the cameras.”

(The customer choked, then flounced away. She later complained the corporate, and got a free certificate! Her card is still there as far as I know.)

-> They’re A Card-Carrying Member Of The A**-Hole Club

Creep Spill In Aisle Fourteen

(This is before cell phones are common. My mom and I stop at a clothes store after she picks me up from school. Since I haven’t had a chance to change, I’m still wearing my uniform, with my middle school’s name clearly written on the front of the shirt. So, even though I look older than I am, it should be very obvious that I’m underage. My mom and I are shopping in different sections of the store with a plan to meet up in the shoe section in a half hour. As I start to browse, I notice a man in his mid to late twenties shopping in the section for teen girls. I find it a little odd, but don’t think anything else of it. There’s also a middle-aged woman in the same section. When I’ve finished looking at one rack of clothes, I turn to look at another and find that the man’s been standing right behind me, creepily close.)

Me: *jumping back in alarm*

Creepy Man: “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Me: *trying to get around him* “It’s fine.”

Creepy Man: *blocking me into a corner* “So, do you shop here often?”

(Because I don’t look my age, I’ve had grown men hit on me before. Usually, a quick mention of my mom or middle school makes them practically bolt for the door.)

Me: “No, I’m just here with my mom on the way home from school.”

Creepy Man: *undeterred* “Cool, cool. Hey, I know of this great party at [Downtown Club] tonight. You should come with me.”

(At about this time, I notice the woman is browsing a rack of clothes nearby without actually looking at them. She’s watching the situation unfold intently.)

Me: “No, thanks. I should really go. I was supposed to meet up with my mom a few minutes ago. She’ll be looking for me.”

Creepy Man: “Aw, come on. It’ll be fun!”

Me: *deciding to be more direct* “I’m fourteen.”

Creepy Man: *winks at me* “Yeah, old enough to have a fake ID, am I right?”

Me: “Uh, no. You’re not. I don’t have one.”

Creepy Man: “That’s all right. I know a guy who can hook you up. Come on.”

(He tries to grab my arm, and I rear back. Before anything else can happen, the woman hurries up to me.)

Woman: “There you are! I was looking all over for you, honey. You were supposed to meet me five minutes ago.”

Me: *playing along* “Sorry, Mom.”

Woman: *smiling at the creepy man like a lioness sizing up her prey* “Oh! Who’s this, sweetheart?”

Creepy Man: *paling dramatically* “Um… I was just… uh… shopping for… uh… my sister.”

Woman: “Of course.” *turning back to me* “I found these shoes that would look adorable on you. I can’t wait to show you.”

(The woman and I walk away until we’re around a corner and out of sight of the creepy man.)

Me: *sighing in relief* “Thank you for that.”

Woman: “No problem. I’d want someone to do the same for my daughters. Now, do you know where your mom is?”

Me: “Yeah, she should be in the petites section.”

(We walked over together to find my mom and then explained what happened. My mom made sure I’m okay, and the three of us all went talk to a manager. Unfortunately, by the time security was sent, the creepy man was long gone. My mom used the store phone to call my dad and have him pick me up. I’m not really sure what happened after I left, but I think the police might have been involved. I don’t think anything came of it, though.)

-> Creep Spill In Aisle Fourteen

Karma: Thy Name Is Lexus

(A man walks up to my counter with several expensive pairs of dress pants and shirts in one hand, and his phone plastered to his ear, talking a mile a minute.)

Me: “Good afternoon, sir! Did you find everything you need?”

(The customer ignores me as he dumps his clothes on the counter.)

Customer: “Anyway so this guy is demanding [large amount] for the Lexus and I’m like, ‘yeah, no way,’ so I…”

(I start ringing him up as he continues to chatter.)

Me: “Okay, do you have your store card with you today?”

(The customer gives me a sour look and points to his phone, apparently upset I’m daring to interrupt his call.)

Customer: “So anyway, I told him he was either going to agree to [larger amount] or he was going to go back to his office empty handed and…”

Me: “Ooookay then.” *I finish ringing up his items* “Your total is [amount].”

(Now the customer just flat out ignores me.)

Customer: “And he said, ‘No, any 2016 Lexus model is worth [smaller amount] as a minimum, and I said ‘Yeah, not when I’m the one buying it, buddy!’”

Me: “Sir, your total is…”

(The man points to his phone again and silently tells me to be quiet.)

Me: “Sir, there’s a line forming behind you. I need you to please—”

Customer: “Hey, do you mind? I’m in the middle of a conversation here!” *goes back to his call* “So I told him, ‘You want me to drive off in this car today? You agree to accept $$$ and not one cent more!’”

(The line behind this guy starts getting restless.)

Me: “Sir, your total is [amount]. Will that be cash, check, or card?”

(The customer just turns away and keeps nattering.)

Customer: “So finally the guy stops being a d*** and accepts my price. Hard won privilege but for a new Lexus it was worth it.”

(I turn as something catches my eye outside the store.)

Me: “Sir, by any chance is that Lexus you’re talking about a [model]?”

Customer: “Huh? Yeah, it is.”

Me: “So it’s that one that’s now being ticketed outside?”

(The man follows my gaze, and is horrified to see a police officer is indeed standing by his car writing a ticket.)

Customer: “What the f***! I thought I still had time on the meter!” *turns to me* “How much for the clothes? And be quick about it!”

Me: “It’s [amount].”

(He pays, snatches the clothes up from the counter, and runs for the door.)

Customer In Line: “Wow, funny how karma always knows just the right moment to strike.”

Me: “It gets even better.” *the man reaches the door, and promptly gets stopped by our security guard as the alarms go off* “He didn’t give me a chance to remove the anti-theft tags.”

-> Karma: Thy Name Is Lexus

Weeding Out The Bad Neighbors

(It is during summer and I am about nine years old. A few months prior, the city had decided to fix some nonexistent cracks in the sidewalks and make the residents pay about $500 each for it. Obviously, people complained, but the city informed them that the sidewalks were city property and that the residents had no right to decide whether the repairs were necessary. The residents tried to fight the cost being forced on them, but they lost. One of my neighbors is a bit of a grump who likes to turn tiny problems into huge issues. He also has a large garden, which he tends to obsessively. When I’m walking past his house on the way to a friend’s place, I see a tiny flower (clearly a weed) growing between the cracks of the sidewalk. I pick it and tuck it behind my ear before continuing on my way. My friend isn’t home, though, so I go back to my house. I find my mom and the grumpy neighbor arguing on the front porch.)

Neighbor: *pointing at me* “There! There it is! See? In her hair! That’s the flower she stole!”

Mom: “That little thing? The way you were going on, I thought you meant an expensive flower, like an orchid or something.”

Neighbor: “It doesn’t matter! She’s a dirty thief!”

Me: *thinking I’m about to get in a lot of trouble* “But it was just a weed! It was growing between the sidewalk cracks.”

Neighbor: “I don’t care where it was growing! You stole it from me.”

Mom: “What exactly is it that you want me to do? She can’t put the flower back.”

Neighbor: “I know she can’t put the flower back. Do you think I’m stupid? She destroyed it, and I want her punished! If you refuse to address this matter, I’ll have to involve the police.”

Mom: *pulling me behind her* “Go right ahead.”

Neighbor: *shocked* “What?”

Mom: *trying not to smirk* “As you well know after those repairs, the sidewalks are the property of the city, not you. The city has no laws forbidding children from picking flowers. Now, if that will be all, I think it’s time for you to leave.”

Neighbor: *sputtering* “But… but… she stole from me!”

Mom: “No, she clearly didn’t. But you’re on private property, and I’ve already asked to leave once. If you stay here, you’ll be trespassing, and I’ll have to involve the police.”

Neighbor: *leaves, looking like he just swallowed a lemon*

Me: *staring in shock at my mom, who’s normally very soft-spoken and non-confrontational*

Mom: “Never give in to people like that, honey. If you do, they’ll walk all over you forever.”

-> Weeding Out The Bad Neighbors

Can’t Refund The Police’s Time

(A customer is making a scene at the customer service counter. He wants a refund on a phone we don’t stock and has a receipt from another store with a name that sounds similar to ours but isn’t quite the same. I’ve had to call my manager over to explain we can’t refund products that weren’t purchased from us but this guy refuses to budge.)

Customer: “Listen, buddy, you are going to give me back the money I paid for this piece of s**** or I am going to dial the police right now and see how you like having to deal with them!”

Manager: “If you do that they’ll tell you they can’t do much. I’ve already explained, and my employee has already explained, that you didn’t purchase this from us so we can’t refund you for it.”

(The customer proceeds to pull out his phone and makes a show of dialing the police.)

Customer: “Yeah this is [Customer] at [Store] at [Address]… I need some boys in blue to come down and settle a dispute the s*** these employees are giving me! No… no, they aren’t armed… No, I’m not in any danger… Look, just send the d*** police, okay?! Thank you!”

(He turns and smiles smugly at us.)

Customer: “You two are in trouble now!”

Manager: “In that case, sir, please can you step aside so we can assist the customers behind you while we wait?”

(The customer does so but keeps smirking at us. Several minutes pass and he starts looking more unsure.)

Customer: “Well?”

Manager: “Well what?”

Customer: “Aren’t you going to try to get me to call off the cops?”

Manager: “Sir, I already told you they aren’t going to be able to do anything. Upholding our return policy is not a crime so all that’s going to happen is they’re going to come here, possibly take a statement, and tell you there’s nothing more to be done.”

(The customer’s smile slowly melts away.)

Customer: “You’re serious? You’re not going to do anything to stop the cops from getting involved?”

Manager: “I don’t know how else to say this, sir. You want to return something you didn’t buy here; we can’t do that because, as stated, you didn’t buy it here. If the only way you will believe me is if the police tell it to you then so be it.”

(The customer is now looking pale.)

Customer: “You… you a**-hole! I have unpaid tickets! I can’t talk to the police!”

(The customer bolted out of the store and quickly drove like a madman out of our parking lot. Several minutes later the police actually did turn up and confirmed the guy’s description and car matched that of a driver they’ve had to pull over multiple times for dangerous driving and who owed a fair amount.)

-> Can’t Refund The Police’s Time

Mom Is Giving You The Crappy Jobs

(One of our cats gave birth six weeks ago, and until the kittens are big enough to have the run of the house, they’re living in an enclosed area in our basement. They’re having a little trouble learning to use the litter box, so we sometimes find “accidents” on the floor. We’re also trying to get them weaned — right now they eat twice a day in addition to nursing. Normally Mom feeds them, and while she’s there she notices any problems in their enclosure and deals with them. One day she has to rush out of the house around their lunchtime. I volunteer to do several chores including feeding the kittens, but I’ve already committed to doing a job online for pay within the next hour and a half, so I’m in a hurry. When she gets home, we have this conversation:)

Me: “Okay, I did the dishes and fed the kittens. One of them pooped on the floor, and I wasn’t really confident in my ability to clean it up plus I was in a rush, so I thought you or [Brother] might take a look at it.”

Mom: “Did you even TRY to clean it up?”

Me: “Well, no. All there was down there was paper towels, I didn’t know what I was doing, and besides, like I said—”

Mom: “God-d***-it, [My Name]!”

(She stomps downstairs muttering about “delegating” and how “she has to do everything.” My brother suggests that next time, even if I can’t get it all, I should do my best to clean it up before saying anything. The next day, Mom hurts her knee and wants to rest it by not going down the stairs, so I feed the kittens again.)

Me: “One of them pooped on the floor again. I did my best to clean it up but it left a smear behind.”

Mom: “All right, we’ll get down there and clean it better tomorrow.”

(The next day, Mom’s knee is feeling better so we go downstairs to clean the enclosure.)

Mom: “Look at this! Someone did a half-a**ed job of cleaning this cat s***, and it’s left a stain. That’s going to be permanent! If you’re not gonna do it right, just come get me!”

(So… when I came and got her, I was a lazy good-for-nothing who wouldn’t even try. When I tried, I was an idiot who should have just gone and gotten her. I suppose what I should have done was magically found a way to make pooped-on blankets pristine again in five minutes using only a damp paper towel. From now on I’m not even saying anything. Let HER find it, and unless she can prove it was there when I fed them last, it’s her problem.)

-> Mom Is Giving You The Crappy Jobs