b3ta.com qotw
You are not logged in. Login or Signup
Home » Question of the Week » Shops and Supermarkets » Page 6 | Search
This is a question Shops and Supermarkets

I used to work in a supermarket where the girl on the deli counter cut off the top of her finger in the meat slicer, but was made to finish her shift before going to hospital. You can now pay £100 to shoot zombies in the store's empty shell, haunted by poor dead nine-finger deli girl. Tell us your tales of the old retail experience, from either side of the counter

(, Thu 10 May 2012, 13:50)
Pages: Popular, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1

This question is now closed.

It's a bit of a Bill Brysonism (Notes From a Small Island, IIRC)
but the old lie that women are in any way capable of "multitasking" - or thinking about more than one thing at once - is easily disproved if you've ever had to pop into M&S for a sandwich and had to queue behind a couple of them at the checkout. It's almost like you can hear their primitive girl-brains processing:

"Right, so I've taken all of my items out of the basket, piled them up on the conveyor belt and the nice man has scanned them all in. I've taken them at the other end and put them into my shopping bag. Job done. Oh wait, wasn't there something else I had to do? Why is the cashier staring at me expectantly? Did I leave the gas on? Oh fuck! I get it now! Having presented my items, had them totalled and packed them away, I need to give the cashier some money! Now, where did I leave my purse? I'm sure it's at the bottom of this bag somewhere...."

See also: queuing for a bus for 15 minutes and then realising that they need their bus pass only after having boarded with a 30-strong queue behind them, or my personal favourite - getting to the barriers at the tube station and then resting their bag on the side of the barrier while they rummage through it for their Oyster card. With a 30-strong queue behind them.
(, Tue 15 May 2012, 15:33, 13 replies)
Ginger Minge
Back in the eighties I worked in a high street menswear shop. One of my jobs was to patrol the front of the shop keeping an eye out for potential shoplifters coming in off the street (you get to learn what they look / act like).
One dreary afternoon, my colleague and I were idly wandering about by the front doors when in walked a woman of about 20, ginger hair, fit as a butchers dog, completely naked.
She wandered up to one of the stands, picked up a shirt, walked over to the mirror and held it up against her. Then she looked at the price tag and decided it was obviously too expensive. She put the shirt back on the rail, and walked out.
We poked our heads out to see her looking in the window of the cafe next door, before she walked a bit further, got in a car and drove off.
(, Tue 15 May 2012, 14:36, 1 reply)
Spank the till monkey
At the checkout, I enquired "Do I need batteries for this?"




"You know, batteries? Little tubey things, put them inside to make it work?"

"Ohhhhh!" [dawning glimmer of understanding] "You mean bachrees."


"No, you don't need bachrees, it's electric."

[Leaves, speechlessly]
(, Tue 15 May 2012, 14:17, 3 replies)
I am to DIY what Stephen Hawking is to Gaellic Football.
With my Christmas bonus, however, I treated "us" to an A1 print of one of my pics (This one for those of you interested), and had it mounted and framed.

Being as it was bloody huge, the framer suggested I use two screws to hold it up, but since behind our bedroom mirror are eight holes from the last time I tried to make two parallel holes, I decided that one metric sized FUCK YOU WALL screw would do the trick.

I proudly returned with my framed picture, and Mrs Vagabond cooed appropriately, and I declared my intent to hang it, and the procedure by which I would do so, and pop off to my local DIY shop to buy a metrically-sized FUCK YOU WALL screw.

Returning home proudly with said screw (it's a tiny shop and he will sell you one screw if you like (settle down at the back)), I take up my drill, and compare my maximum-sized drill bit with the screw size and ...

Return to the shop to purchase a bigger drill bit, from the now slightly-smirking shop keeper.

Returning home, I take my new drill bit, drill the hole, fit the rawl plug and ...

Return to the shop to purchase a bigger screw head, from the now openly-laughing shop keeper.

It took me approximately half a day to hang that picture.

Still, it looks ace.
(, Tue 15 May 2012, 13:27, 7 replies)
It was a wet summer...
The year was 1999, the month of august - the eclipse year. It was a wet and windy summer and I was on my holiday from university and had returned to my parents .
In my local town of Monmouth there was a shoe store advertising for a sales assistant- I had worked for this company before and thought "Well its money the job is easy why not see if I can get it and earn some money over the summer" - being I had previous experience the job was mine. Until one unfortunate day..

It was raining, raining raining raining raining...

A little description of the property. - shop down stairs, abandoned flat above, next door a kebab shop which had had some recent building work done to its roof.

Sometimes I would in my lunch go for a wander around the abandoned flat and see if there was any thing of interest squirreled away which there never was but I worked in a shoe shop dealing with customers I needed a break and pretending to be Indiana Jones up stairs for 30 mins helped every few days..


During one such rainy day I decided to pay my haunt a visit I opened the door a a wave of water shot down the stairs, splashing around I went to investigate where this was coming in.
On opening the front room door I noticed that a torrent of rain was streaming down the fire place out on to the floor and through the floor boards.

I went down stairs informed my boss of what I had seen. She went to investigate, while she was up stairs and the shop was full of customers,half of the suspended ceiling in the shop fell through. luckily it landed on no one. You have never seen blind panic from shop assistants and customers such as this. Lightbulbs were exploding, ceiling panels every where hanging off and dropping on all the merchandise. And the water, was thick and black full of soot


I ran to the back of the shop hit the power causing everything in the shop to go black including tills, got lost in the back of the shop for ten mins trying to find my way out - there were no windows or emergency lighting.I eventually found my way out to the front, my boss was in tears the 2 girl assistants were just standing there, watching the shop dismantle itself in a flood of black water.

We removed all stock the back room, put out huge bins to catch the streams of water coming through the ceiling, called head office told them of the damage and attempted to lock up.

I don't know if people are just stupid but during this commotion a customer walks in and tries to get a refund on some shoes...

Anyway this turned into a 4 week fully paid no work summer.. wooo
It turned out to be that the builders who had worked on the shop next door had blocked up our gutters.

Anyway later that summer I had arranged for some piano lesson from a lady down the road from my parents, it was a rainy day, she had a leak in her roof just near the piano. there I was sitting playing and a massive bit of ceiling board fell on me and the piano. I was under all of this he lady was running around her house screaming and going mad, I did my best to carry on playing...

what was up with that year.....?

there are many other stories of work I have done and stupid stories, such as working in a pub having a lock in and getting raided by the police- the land lord was a drunken Scottish man. We had 4 meat wagons and a helicopter turn up, as a massive fight brawled out onto the street. I was hiding up stairs in a dark room with the tills and the bar girls. As we were not supposed to be open honest guvnor... being they owed me a few hundred in late wages - no tax just cash in hand no till receipts etc...some money went missing that night. the pub closed 2 weeks later...

NIA birmingham - world championship indoor athletics.

That running track used to be stored down stairs where the junkies would shoot up and leave needles everywhere. It bit the bullet when I found a blooded hatchet hidden in the track boards. Health and safety were more concerned about gig going customers who may trip over seat units then us getting the Aids or finding dead bodies down stairs...dicks the lot of them....

The best one ever working as an industrial cleaner on drake circus shopping centre before it opened. Those ride on cleaning buggies are great for a game of tag when you have to whole place at night to yourself and a group of other like minded delinquents ..
(, Tue 15 May 2012, 13:26, Reply)
How to confuse a newsagent
Woman in Newsagents (while opening a bundle of magazines to put on the shelf) - " Leslie, How many guitarists?"
Me (walking past on the way out of the shop) - "Does it take to change a lightbulb?"
Woman - "eh?"
(, Tue 15 May 2012, 13:10, Reply)
I wondered why the assistant had been giving me odd looks
Until, a minute or so after I left the shop, I realised that I'd just bought condoms and earplugs...
(, Tue 15 May 2012, 12:19, 1 reply)
Years ago the then boyfriend had to deliver a big computer point-of-sale box thing to a posh shop in Chester
so I went along to help.

As the BF had a bad back I carried the sodding heavy computer thing for what seemed like miles while he found the place. When we arrived the manageress gushed to him 'Oh, how KIND of you to mend it so quickly! Thank you SO much for bringing it back! Would you like a cup of tea?'

To me, she snapped 'You! Put that down over there!'
As a mere labourer, I was obviously below contempt.

The day wasn't lost though as the BF, having crawled up his own arse with embarrassment, declined that rude woman's refreshments and took me for a nice pub lunch.
(, Tue 15 May 2012, 11:41, Reply)
Angry Scot and the flying beans.
Some years ago the company I worked for were installing 20 or so brand new barely tested PC based cash registers into a new independent supermarket in Glasgow. The owner had run a number of successful convenience stores and decided he could take on the big boys. The outfitting of the store wasn't going to plan and we'd installed our hardware before the builders had installed any windows, which resulted in a large security issue as.. well, it was Glasgow afterall.
For these few days the owner was anxious to say the least and any slight hiccup with the project sent him into a rage.

It was unfortunate for my boss that when we uploaded the final product database to the tills that they decided to scramble the indexes so the item that was scanned bore no resemblance to the item that was printed on the receipt. This was spotted and rectified.. mostly.
Unfortunately once the store opened it became apparent that there were still some major issues with the product database and the owner had had enough. He summoned my boss the project manager to one of the checkouts and proceeded to scan a number of items.

"Beans!" He announced whilst holding a tin of beans,"so why does it fookin well say soup?" - After which the beans were hurled at our project manager.

"Peas! Not Carrots!" as another tin was launched in the direction of my unfortunate boss.

By all accounts there were a dozen or so products launched at my boss as part of this tirade.

It only got worse later when they noticed they had run out of an expensive line of wine.. Someone found out that the tills were misprogrammed with a 'buy one get as many as you could carry for free' offer.
(, Tue 15 May 2012, 10:53, 2 replies)
A pearoast from a month ago
This year, after years of ignoring Valentine's Day, I decided to make the wife something for this Halmark holiday. Making something is not only cheaper, it makes you look like you thought about it and gets extra brownie points.

For part of this creation, I needed a box frame. A quick google revealed that IKEA had exactly what I needed and, by a stroke of luck, I had to go to a meeting just by Warrington IKEA.

So I nipped in after my meeting, bypassed the showfroom and grabbed the frame I wanted, heading to the chekcouts as quickly as possible, lest I get tricked into buying a load of shite I neither need, nor want. Whcih is what normally happens when I got to IKEA.

When I get to the chekcouts, there are three open, with somewhere in the region of 30 people waiting to pay for their trolley-loads of tat. There were self-service tills open, which no-one was using, but I didn't want to use them, as I wanted to pay cash so my wife wouldn't notice I'd been to IKEA without her.

So I joined the back of one of these queues. At the front of the queue were two just past middle-aged WAG-wannabes (who I later notcied had parked their X5 in a disabled space, with no sign of a blue badge). They had a trolley each and were gassing away as the checkout bloke scanned one trolley load. Once everything had been scanned, the first harridan started to pack. Once she had finished packing, she started looking for her credit card.

"Fuck this", thinks I and I walked past all the people queing and said to the second old bag and said "'scuse me, love. I'm only buying this one frame and I'm paying cash, can I just jump in front of you?"

She looked at me and said "No".

There was a proper commedy collective intake of breath from everyone in the queue and the checkout bloke let go of the frame in my hand - he'd assumed she'd say yes and had started to take it off me - and said "sorry mate, nothing I can do"

I then started trying to decide whether to just walk to the back of the queue or to work me way along, asking each one if I could jump infront of them, when the bloke stood right behind the woman I'd asked said "'ere y'are lad, get in front of me".

I said "cheers mate", to which he replied "twat". Seeing the shocked look on jmy face, he said "not you, her". Said twat then turned round and looked at him incredulously, to which he said "Yes, you. Twat."

I could have hugged him.
(, Tue 15 May 2012, 9:51, 6 replies)
I worked in a hardware store...
some bloke came in and asked for four candles, that was just the start of a confusing 15 minutes.
(, Tue 15 May 2012, 9:34, 1 reply)
costas reminded me..
Simply because of the geography..My brother possibly went to the very same branch, and bought a tool box. This was the time when you got a free tape measure and saw, or something...
The assistant, obviously wise to the shoplifters ruse of putting tools in a box so as not to.pay for them, asked if he could open said box,
My hairy biker brother realised what was happening and agreed, the card sleeve, the one with free saw and tape measure, emblazoned across it, was slipped off. Upon opening the box, there sat a saw, and a tape measure. The young lad was quite shocked/upset/worried, as he now had to call over a manager to apprehend my brother.
The manager came, was told the story, the like youngster was ready to take flight at the inevitable scuffle that was about to break out, when he noticed the manager and my brother looking at him, waiting for the penny to drop.
Length... About 20 seconds.
(, Tue 15 May 2012, 8:03, Reply)
A spontaneous strike (a pearoast, but a fond memory)
A McDonald's restaurant used to be located in the basement of a Las Vegas Strip casino. It was about 1986, and the place has long since been erased to make room for casino expansion.

At the time, Las Vegas was suffering a severe labor shortage and it was very difficult to staff the graveyard shifts of low-paying fast-food restaurants, like McDonald's. Thus, apart from the shift manager, this restaurant was staffed entirely by the slow, the lame, the halt, the mentally-deficient.

I was trying to get some food down there around midnight when hundreds of glitterati were suddenly-released at the end of a "Cher" concert. Hundreds suddenly came crowding downstairs for food, and met slow service. Frustrated, they began mocking the staff. I remember one fellow who was dressed like a pimp, moaning with crooked arms, and limping to the laughter of his friends.

Their feelings injured, the staff balked, and service ground to a complete halt. An ugly standoff ensued, as the mentally-deficient blinked back tears, crossed their arms in defiance, and let their supposed-betters (supposed bettors to casino management) stew away unserved on the escalators. There was lots of shouting and even an air of menace, but the staff had the upper hand. No one got served that midnight!

Be kind to the staff!
(, Tue 15 May 2012, 0:34, 1 reply)
Can't think whether I've posted this before...
One day the missus woke up and decided we needed a trampoline. I heartily agreed, having realised months earlier that these £250 You've-Been-Framed-worthy spinal mishaps weren't going to magic themselves out of thin air, and so off we trooped to our nearest DIY store (mentioning no names, but I suspect theirs stood for Bellends and Quunts).

We walked in and immediately spotted what we were looking for - An eight-foot trampoline in a box. We decided against the optional safety net (which, if anything, served no purpose other than to give you something to tangle your leg in after you've fallen off the bloody thing), and so lugged the box to the till.

The cashier was about to scan the barcode when he noticed something. "It's not all there" he grunted.
"Isn't it?" we enquired.
"No, look" he replied, pointing at the label. "It says 'Box 1 of 1'"
"So you need box 2 of 2 as well" he explained.
"Oh, I s- What?"
"It says Box 1 of 1, so you need to go and get Box 2 of 2. It should be on the same shelf"
We weren't convinced. "Surely 'Box 1 of 1' means there's only one box, and it's this one?" we asked.
"No, there's a Box 2 of 2 as well."
Now, this was a Sunday morning. And clearly there's something special about Sunday mornings that makes your brain extra-malleable and willing to believe any old toot, be it tales of invisible sky-wizards or imaginary boxes of trampoline parts, because we decided to humour this man. We ambled back to the shelf, cashier close behind, to look for box 2 of 2. Imagine our surprise when we found a metric arseload of box 1 of 1s, but precisely zero box 2 of 2s. It was almost as if they didn't exist.
At this point, the penny dropped with the cashier.
"They must all be out the back."
Fucking hell.
"I'll just go and check"
He just went and checked. Meanwhile, we enjoyed the feeling of our Sunday slowly ebbing away, pulled by a tide of tosswittery. A few minutes later, he returned. At this point, you may be ahead of me.
"There's none out the back" he revealed.
We were agog. It was time to try a different tack.
"Tell you what" we said, "Why don't we just take box 1 of 1 now, and then come back another day to pick up box 2 of 2?" Brilliant plan, chiz chiz.
"Hang on" he replied, completely ignoring our ingenious idea, "I'll just ask my colleague"
Aha! Someone to gently point out his dimbuggery in words he might understand! He called over Darren, a boy in an orange shirt.
"They want to buy this trampoline, but we can only find box 1 of 1, there's no box 2 of 2 anywhere" he explained to Darren.
"Well yeah, because there's only meant to be one box. That's what 'Box 1 of 1' means. There's one box, and this is it"
...is what Darren would've said in a perfect world.
"Have you checked out the back?" is what he actually said.
Cue gentle sobbing. But wait! All was not lost.
"I'll check the computer" the cashier suggested. "There might be a box 2 of 2 at another branch."
Well yes, if they've just opened a branch that deals in fictional boxes, we could be in luck. To the computer!

The computer was surrounded by two more employees. Now, at this point you might think one of them would see what was going on, smack someone upside the head and calmly explain that there was no box 2 of 2.

Or you might not.

"No, there's none in the Bedford branch..."
"Have you tried Huntingdon?"
"No, I'll try them too"
"I can give them a ring and ask"
"What about Cambridge? They usually have loads"
"No, they've only got box 1 of 1"
"There, look, click on Wisbech, they've got - Oh no, that's a lawnmower"
"Have you checked out the back?"

As far as I know, they're still there to this day.
(, Mon 14 May 2012, 23:51, 7 replies)
A Mystery
A couple of year ago I was in my local Co-Op, It was a busy Saturday, I was in the 10-items-or-less (yes, I know, it should be "fewer") queue and I was quietly steaming as at the head of a queue, about five people in front of me, a large woman slowly loaded a very full trolley's worth onto the conveyor and then slowly loaded the scanned items back into the conveyor.

The moment for payment came - about £120 worth - but she showed no signs of paying. Just slowly loaded the trolley. And loaded and loaded.

Finally my normal patience gave way and I called out "Oh for goodness's sake. You've held us all up because you couldn't be bothered to read the ten-items-or-fewer sign, couldn't you at least have the decency to pay."

At which she went completely apeshit at me, shouting and screaming incoherent abuse. So did her husband, a big rough looking bloke. Managers appeared from all directions and eventually they were calmed down.

But they didn't pay. They left the trolley half full and stalked out to the white van they'd arrived it. The manager apologised to me, several other queuing customers thanked me for saying what they'd been thinking ... and I waited prudently for a few minutes until the van drove off before leaving.

It was only later that I worked out what I am sure was the reason for the spectacular overreaction to my snarky comment. I can't know for sure that I'm right, but I'm pretty damn certain. It also explains why they were in that queue, and why they went off without their groceries.

Any ideas?
(, Mon 14 May 2012, 23:40, 15 replies)
Mistaken for a sales droid.
One Saturday many moons ago I found myself by coincidence all dressed in black in a certain retail outlet where the staff wear an all black uniform. Whilst there I was accosted by a gentleman who proceeded to quite abusively tear strips off me for "my" companys shoddy customer service, he wasn't happy with the product he bought, etc., etc. I tried to butt in a couple of times and tell him I didn't work there, he kept telling me to be quiet and let him finish. Eventually he does and signs off with a triumphant "Well, what are you going to do about it!?".

"Well.....I'm going to say you're a massive fuckwit" I responded and returned to my browsing. He went purple, spluttered and stormed off to return shortly with a bemused manager, who asked him what the issue was. He pointed widly at me and stated I was very rude to him, the manager looked even more puzzled and enquired as to why this should concern him to which said gentleman shouted "I WANT AN APOLOGY AND I WANT HIM FIRED!".

The manager looked at me, I grinned, he looked back at the now foaming gentlemen and calmly said "But he doesn't work here, sir". This was just too much, the guy howled with rage and stormed out of the shop, leaving me to explain to the now very confused manager what had just happened. I got discount on what I decided to buy after I'd told him the story.
(, Mon 14 May 2012, 22:46, 4 replies)
The Fluxite Demon
I worked in a hardware store once when I was severely mentally fucked up.

They sold a product called Fluxite, "soldering paste" that came in little tins with a picture of a red demon with tufted hair, wearing an apron, wielding a soldering iron, and glowering downwards arms aloft.

Google image search Fluxite and you will see.

I became obsessed with the Fluxite Demon and used to hold conversations with it about what I should do with my life. I was strongly urged to open the tins and eat the Fluxite, but I knew that was wrong. I would dream of the Fluxite Demon scuttling through my dreams, its face a sweating mask of anger, cursing me, exhorting me to use the Fluxite.

I even wrote a song which I played on my guitar, in order to try to propitiate the little demon.

But still it would pose arms aloft on the tins of Fluxite, and in my dreams become ever more angry.

I tried to hide this from the manager and my colleagues, and the customers, but when I woke up crying in the staff toilets, open tins of Fluxite around me and the toilet crammed full of the stuff, they sacked me.

I still kept turning up for work every day and it was only until the manager told my Dad what I'd been doing that I stopped.

I'll never forget the look on my Dad's face, a mixed look of disgust and disappointment that the fruit of his loins could turn out so mental.

I'm better now.
(, Mon 14 May 2012, 22:40, 6 replies)
Broken Britain my arse.
I was in ASDA recently when I came across a little old Asian lady trying to climb up three shelves in an attempt to grab the last 2 cartons of Lychee juice. Being of regulation height for a skinhead I could easily reach so I grabbed the cartons and passed them to her. There was a split second where she did a double take and then she nicely said thank you.
(, Mon 14 May 2012, 22:39, Reply)
My friend (our very own ivesb, in fact) was telling me about the time he was mugged
He'd just come out of a shop, with a carrier bag containing his purchases: some beer, to enjoy when he got home. A CD, to listen to while he drank the beer... and a pie, to eat on his way home as he was hungry.

Anyway, someone came up behind him, smashed a bottle over his head and said "give me your money". In a rage, he turned round, chased the would-be mugger off, dropping his carrier bag in the process.

His lament of "I was looking forward to that pie too, I was really hungry" was interrupted by me, in wide-eyed childish wonder asking him what this amazing emporium of delights was, that sold not only CDs, but also beer! And pies! They certainly didn't have record shops like that round where I live... or maybe it was an off licence with a MUSIC section. Just imagine! How exciting, I couldn't wait to go and peruse it. I had mental images of a little smoky bohemian-looking place, smelling of incense, with loads of obscure music. Probably unusual beers too, imported ones that you can't normally get in this country...

Looking at me incredulously, ivesb replied:

"It was Asda"
(, Mon 14 May 2012, 22:26, 1 reply)

I worked in a chemist, where one of the assistants, who is still there, asked 'What size?' when a gentleman asked for a packet of Durex (these were the days when condoms were behind the counter, and Durex were the only johnnybags you could get)
He turned very red and muttered I dont believe what you are asking me, she said, I'm sorry, I meant what size packet, 3 or 6.

Thankfully they are on display in this particular chemist now, just to the left, and slightly below the vibrators, and flavoured lubricants.

God I feel old.

Protocoldroid reminded me...
We had a lovely lass in our store, worked there for 12 or so years, first as a Saturday schoolkid, then as a school leaver, she left for a year to have her firstborn, and returned.. Lets call her Alice, not her real name, her real name was something else
Alice finished her shift, walked around the shop floor, met up with her sister, Zoe, again not her real name, who gave Alice a fiver which had been borrowed.
Alice went upstairs to derobe and go home, except this day there was a security check. Alice was caught with a £5 note on her. A call to her sister confirmed that she had indeed given her a fiver on the shop floor. A check with Alice' till revealed that there was no money missing, and 12 years of wonderful service was awarded with the sack, or resignation... she resigned. We all petitioned as did several customers.. no dice... still she has a new job now, but what a cunch of bunts
(, Mon 14 May 2012, 21:30, 6 replies)
Gratuitious gratuity
I once got tipped by a customer for carrying his purchases out of the department store. I wasn't allowed back in through the customer door "for security reasons" or I would be sacked, and so had to walk around the back of the next block to the staff entrance. Once back in, I let it slip I had been tipped a fiver. I was told I wasn't allowed to keep tips and had to hand over my ill-gotten gains or I would be fired for insubordination.

Says a lot about the British service sector - do a good job and you will be fucked over by your manager.
(, Mon 14 May 2012, 21:06, 11 replies)

One of my less illustrious career moves was selling department store Xmas trees. It was the kind of work which attracted uptight control freaks who managed departments with their dessicated, humourless schoolmistress attitude and all the customers were menopausal housewives who only came in to pick fault with something and nag the hapless drones running the shop. I remember whilst speaking politely to one moany customer I accidentally gobbed in her eye (I was genuinely trying to help her) and she ran shrieking out of the shop. These people would come in and spend ridiculous amounts of cash on assorted Xmas tat - animatronic Santas, extravagant decorations which cost a week's worth of my wages etc. One such Yuletide treat were the Xmas snowglobes. An assistant was sent down to the stockroom to retrieve one of these vile baubles for a particularly snippy customer. He returned in a hurry, eager to please; the box popped open and the snowglobe shattered on the counter, spilling fake snow and fluid all over the woman's frock. In an ejaculation of professional aplomb, the assistant shouted "Oh SHIT!". The customer stormed out in a cloud of exasperation.
(, Mon 14 May 2012, 20:45, 1 reply)
Foot in mouth....
Bit of another dullard post from me!! I work in an upmarket furniture showroom and live in the same town, so I often see customers.

Last week, when walking home I bumped into a very good customer, after exhanging pleasentries he asked if I was busy at work... to which I replied "yes, very, you?".. it was at that very split second I remembered that he works at Headley Court, the rehabilitation centre for servicemen who return from Iraq/Afghanistan with missing limbs....... he looked at me a bit odd.... I looked very embarassed and carried on walking.......
(, Mon 14 May 2012, 19:57, Reply)
Another DIY shop related story
Was putting bike chains onto a shelf, when from behind I hear a lady's voice say "Oh we're too old for that now"

I turn around and say "What, biking?"

"No," she replied. "Bondage."

Her husband nodded and smiled sadly. They were in their 70's or 80's...
(, Mon 14 May 2012, 19:19, 2 replies)
I won an award
why? because I was bored.

Man walks into Halfords a few...many years ago and asks me if he could reserve a bike for his sons Xmas Present. Sure. Which bike was it...

"...its the red and silver one" he says retrieving his wallet from his pocket in readiness to pay.

I cast my eyes to the side of me upon my bike department... the in colours that xmas were primarily Silver and red.


Guy begins to panic, he had been sent there by his wife who had picked it with their ten year old son the weekend before. He hadnt been present when it was picked.

Realising the man was in a Xmas present panic, I decide to call his wife, after a quick discussion where his wife worked (he knew it was a factory nearby, but couldn’t be sure of its name) we pin down a shortlist of places, and proceed to call directory enquiries for various numbers (this was prior to Mobile phones being commonplace)

on the 3rd number I get through to the HR department who promptly drag in the lady to confirm what bike we had to pay for.

We had about 20 bikes for his age group on the floor. We proceeded to play bicycle Guess who with the lady... "did it have gears?" ... "did it have suspension?"…and so on…

After 25 mins we nailed it, and luckily there was only 2 left.

Guy leaves with a massive shrug of relief. I go back to reading my bike magazine.

The guy returned the next day for a word with my manager, and i won a pen...

a fucking pen.
(, Mon 14 May 2012, 17:50, 3 replies)
didnt see it coming.
In one of my first jobs i used to work in a very well known sport shop. After having the hang over from hell i was put on the tills. In a daze i asked for 40 pound from a customer and was handed a twenty. For about 30 seconds i stood there waiting for another 20 pound only to realise it was tucked behind the first...me in my wisdom said "eesh sorry im blind as a bat" only to look up at the customer clutching his white stick. He replied," dont worry u get used to it from birth". Gutted.
(, Mon 14 May 2012, 17:36, Reply)
DIY Stores...
A number of odd things happened when I used to work for a large chain DIY store which had a name reminiscent of a military establishment...

On one occasion, a family came into the store. 2 adults, 3 kids, one a baby in a pram. Looked perfectly normal, not particularly scummy like most of the time. proceeded to wander around for half an hour or so until they approached my till with a small basket of items. I proceeded to serve them, and just after they walk off, I hear a shout from the security guard, who proceeds to empty the pram of about 100 boxes of lightbulbs that they'd surrounded the baby with...

On one occasion I had a woman come into the store 5 minutes before closing time and then purchase about 500 plants which took nearly half an hour to put through the checkout.

One of the other members of staff told me about at another of the shops stores, they were clearing out the warehouse and found a small nest one of the employees had used to skive off filled with pages and pages of hardcore porn, all with the subject of really fat women, accompanied by a sponge which had a hole burned through it from.... well you can guess.
(, Mon 14 May 2012, 17:34, 1 reply)
Had a dinner party planned.
Wife and I went to a Publix grocery store many, many miles from our house - (not our usual crappy local one) and spent a crap load on tasty goodies.
Get home to discover that a couple of the more expensive, and smaller things, that are on the receipt are not in the bags. I'm of the opinion - 'fuck it - we'll make do, no big deal, get it next time' but NOOOO - cue my ex* launching into a vicious, over the top telephonic tirade to the store manager about shoddy service, how I have to drive all the way back, people are coming over etc etc. He's very apologetic and promises to make sure the items will be waiting.

I drive back down and head in to the store, somewhat sheepishly, to get the stuff, embarrassed by Mrs GPs outburst. The manager comes up, apologizes again and gives me the bag. Meanwhile the bagger who took care of us earlier, remembers me, waves enthusiastically and gives me his biggest, brightest, happiest, downs-syndromiest smile..

I felt like a complete cunt.


*one of the reasons she is in that happy category now.
(, Mon 14 May 2012, 17:09, 5 replies)
Sainsbury's is selling Dead Kennedys CDs.
Aldi has Limp Bizkit.
(, Mon 14 May 2012, 16:55, 8 replies)
Absolute zero
I used to work as a Saturday boy in a fruit and veg shop.

The local population were an eclectic mix of the well off, alcoholics, the old and infirm and the inhabitants of a local nut house.

We had many regulars all with their own particular quirks. Such as the crazy cat lady who would smoke a whole cigarette in about 10 seconds and who once dropped her knickers and did a massive crap in the middle of the shopping arcade.

There was also the old couple who reeked of piss and who both had beards and the man who put every individual item in separate bags – pretty time consuming when these are sprouts or grapes.

There are too many to recall, but there’s one often springs to memory.

It was Halloween and the shop had pumpkins on display around the till area. I was standing there serving with my boss’s daughter when one of the regulars turned up. He was about six foot eight, always wore shades and was never seen in anything but shorts and sandals.

He came up to the till with his goods and was about to pay when he went quiet for about ten seconds and then said this to the both of us:

“You see that (pointing at a pumpkin).

“I’ll freeze that to near absolute zero and then batter the bitch with it.”

He then left without saying a word and we never saw him again.
(, Mon 14 May 2012, 16:01, 2 replies)

This question is now closed.

Pages: Popular, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1