![fuckyeahretailrobin:
[Image Description: Background is several triangles in a circle like a pie alternating from true red, scarlet and black. A robin is sitting on his perch looking to the right. Top Text: “THROWS CUPCAKES AT YOU.” Bottom Text: “YOU’RE POISONING MY CHILDREN!”]
Apologies if this is a tad long, but I feel it needs a bit of explanation.
I used to work at this chain of grocery stores in Texas in the bakery department. I was only a Bakery Clerk, which is a fancy name for a job giving people muffins and cookies from behind a counter. There was a second department for cakes, but it closed earlier than the section I worked in. That department stocks cupcakes on the floor. Right around Valentines Day, most of the cupcakes on display had red and white icing on them.
Come late one night, maybe ten minutes before closing, a woman approached the counter. She was older, maybe in her 30s. She looked a bit peeved.
“Can I help you, ma’am?”
She threw a box of half-eaten cupcakes across the counter at me. They hit me and I barely caught them.
“Do you really expect me to feed my children these?” She began, irate.
I had no idea how to respond. I just said, “Not if you don’t want to.”
“Don’t you see that you are poisoning my children? I demand they all be taken off the shelves and not be sold ever again!” She was getting louder at this point.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but I don’t have the authority to do that. I don’t make the cupcakes.”
“It doesn’t matter. You are just as much to blame… You are standing here while my children DIE. I DEMAND you stop selling these cupcakes.”
My curiosity got the better of me, and I asked, “I’m sorry… but why?”
“Because the icing has red dye, idiot.” It was rather uncalled for, I think, but I was honestly too flabbergasted to actually say anything else. I just looked at her. She demanded to see my manager.
My manager always left like 3 hours before closing, so I called in my coworker, an older lady who was working to have something to do after retirement. I explained the situation in the back of the bakery and told her I was sorry. She handled it rather professionally, finally calming her down by half-agreeing with her red dye rants but telling her she couldn’t do anything about it. She then informed her that if it was such a problem, the items could be returned with a receipt.
“Oh, I didn’t buy them yet. I was snacking on them in the store.”
Some people.
If a customer threw something at me and it hit me, I’d make damn sure they were booted out of the store.](http://25.media.tumblr.com/7eb5206c9de6cc617cf5a0baeafd16d2/tumblr_mgfj2gWdLS1qm3qzeo1_400.jpg)
[Image Description: Background is several triangles in a circle like a pie alternating from true red, scarlet and black. A robin is sitting on his perch looking to the right.
Top Text: “THROWS CUPCAKES AT YOU.”
Bottom Text: “YOU’RE POISONING MY CHILDREN!”]Apologies if this is a tad long, but I feel it needs a bit of explanation.
I used to work at this chain of grocery stores in Texas in the bakery department. I was only a Bakery Clerk, which is a fancy name for a job giving people muffins and cookies from behind a counter. There was a second department for cakes, but it closed earlier than the section I worked in. That department stocks cupcakes on the floor. Right around Valentines Day, most of the cupcakes on display had red and white icing on them.
Come late one night, maybe ten minutes before closing, a woman approached the counter. She was older, maybe in her 30s. She looked a bit peeved.
“Can I help you, ma’am?”
She threw a box of half-eaten cupcakes across the counter at me. They hit me and I barely caught them.
“Do you really expect me to feed my children these?” She began, irate.
I had no idea how to respond. I just said, “Not if you don’t want to.”
“Don’t you see that you are poisoning my children? I demand they all be taken off the shelves and not be sold ever again!” She was getting louder at this point.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but I don’t have the authority to do that. I don’t make the cupcakes.”
“It doesn’t matter. You are just as much to blame… You are standing here while my children DIE. I DEMAND you stop selling these cupcakes.”
My curiosity got the better of me, and I asked, “I’m sorry… but why?”
“Because the icing has red dye, idiot.” It was rather uncalled for, I think, but I was honestly too flabbergasted to actually say anything else. I just looked at her. She demanded to see my manager.
My manager always left like 3 hours before closing, so I called in my coworker, an older lady who was working to have something to do after retirement. I explained the situation in the back of the bakery and told her I was sorry. She handled it rather professionally, finally calming her down by half-agreeing with her red dye rants but telling her she couldn’t do anything about it. She then informed her that if it was such a problem, the items could be returned with a receipt.
“Oh, I didn’t buy them yet. I was snacking on them in the store.”
Some people.
If a customer threw something at me and it hit me, I’d make damn sure they were booted out of the store.
![fuckyeahretailrobin:
[Image Description: Background is several triangles in a circle like a pie alternating from true red, scarlet and black. A robin is sitting on his perch looking to the right. Top Text: “Customer tells offensive joke” Bottom Text: “Looks confused when I don’t laugh”]
Does this happen to anyone else? I mainly get racist (and homophobic, sigh) jokes from other Caucasian people. They seem so confused and awkward when I don’t laugh at them. Just because I’m Caucasian myself, doesn’t mean I am a horrible racist like you.
I work by an airport. My customers are all different races from abroad speaking different languages, with different backgrounds: I get told a terrorist joke by some ignorant backwoods local every week.](http://25.media.tumblr.com/da41b6d509d70609d4780b897b5e6bc0/tumblr_mg8yfoOgwa1qm3qzeo1_400.jpg)
![fuckyeahretailrobin:
[Image Description: Background is several triangles in a circle like a pie alternating from true red, scarlet and black. A robin is sitting on his perch looking to the right. Top Text: “set” Bottom Text: “designers”]
Set designers are so annoying. They’ll buy hundreds or thousands of dollars worth of stuff, usually pay in cash, and then return it all a week later. And then act all surprised when, at 9 in the morning on a Tuesday, you don’t have $700 in cash in your drawer.
Professional set designers? I’ve never heard of them doing this. That’s insane.](http://25.media.tumblr.com/9113343864e60a3a6906ecb8545395db/tumblr_mf8pvk8WbY1qm3qzeo1_400.jpg)
![fuckyeahretailrobin:
[Image Description: Background is several triangles in a circle like a pie alternating from true red, scarlet and black. A robin is sitting on his perch looking to the right.Top Text: “Store closed at five on Christmas eve.”Bottom Text: “Group of angry customers outside demanding to be let in.”]
I work for a large electronics chain, in NYC. On Christmas Eve we always have a group of people who didn’t know the store closed early and try and fight with the managers to get to go inside. My manager told them that we wanted to enjoy the holidays too; the customers responded by CALLING THE POLICE to get us to open the doors. Needless to say, that did not work. They stood out there for almost an hour from 5-6pm. I just don’t get it.
Silly fellow retail workers; you know we’re not people with feelings, families, or personal lives. We are merely drones sent to stores to serve the consumers! How dare you lock out those holiday shoppers, their procrastination should be your number one concern on Christmas eve!](http://25.media.tumblr.com/c4da35fa779d9627185f6a413c33cb44/tumblr_mflpaxI1y91qm3qzeo1_400.jpg)
![fuckyeahretailrobin:
[Image Description: Background is several triangles in a circle like a pie alternating from true red, scarlet and black. A robin is sitting on his perch looking to the right. Top Text: “TRANSFER STORES.” Bottom Text: “THANK YOU FOR CALLING [STORE NAME] [OLD LOCATION], HOW MAY I HELP YOU?”]
This was bound to happen; I was at the other location for 2 years, so it’s just so automatic for me. It’s also automatic for me to think of zones as locations of the store rather than what’s in them. At my old store, Zone 3 was on the right, so when my new manager told me to go in Zone 3 the other day, I ended up in Zone 5 for half the shift and she thought I just wanted to “make the rules.” No, it’s just that I’m an idiotic creature of habit.
I answer the phone at my job (a home-goods store) “thanks for choosing Dominos”.
All the time.](http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m9sxapQa5X1qm3qzeo1_400.jpg)
