8:14 p.m. - 08.22.2002
My Very First Asshole Customer
I encountered my very first asshole customer today at work.
On my third day. Kind of surprised it took this long. Albeit most people are nice, once they find out some of the store's policies, they get upset.
I'm at the register, and I ring up something like twenty shirts. A whole buncha shirts for just this one guy. I get to the very last item: a pair of overalls. It doesn't have a price tag on it. Our policy is that if it doesn't have a tag on it, it must go be re-priced. And that usually takes a day, since we already have so many things to price.
[It's not like a regular store. It's a thrift store. I don't have the jurisdiction to price anything. Nor can I go back and see how much it was, since there's usually only one of each item.]
So, anyway. I tell the guy that he can't have the overalls because there's no tag. He says something, and I tell him very politely about our policy.
He says "Forget everything then!" And starts to walk out.
After I rang up all those fucking shirts. And took the hangers off!
Meanwhile, I'm just standing there dumbfounded.
I couldn't believe it.
He looks back and notices my facial expression. "Put a tag on it! I'll buy it!" he says angrily
"I can't do that, sir."
He walked out.
Asshole.
Damn, I love this job! And oddly enough, dear reader, this is not sarcasm.
Despite this asshole, I still feel fantastic about myself and my job. I'm a pleasant cashier. I am. I smile, do the little chitchat thing. I'm a hit, dammit! And I know I was in the right.
Albeit, I feel good about having this job -- but I cannot wait until this weekend!
