So it's closing time on a Thursday, traditionally one of the easier night shifts of the week. I'd had an absolute nightmare of a day, so we want to be out in good time, no later than 10 past, and we're on track, when 3 people decided the best time of the whole 16 hours/day we're open is exactly 2 minutes before closing. On a good day I'm fine with it, on a bad day it irritates me.
1st guy is a regular. He looks permanently confused, and he has a habit of doing those tiny little things that piss you off... they don't really qualify as sucky, but they can grate sometimes. Anyway, he asks for £10 top up on network X and £5 on network Y. I could probably do this in my sleep, so I'm in auto-pilot running it through, paying just enough attention to see everything's in order, while also keeping an eye on the 2 girls who came in, all dolled up for a night out, I'm looking to decide if I should ID them.
So now the transaction is going through and I'm idling by waiting for the top-ups to print out, hand them over to him and (at this point I'm definitely on auto, because...) I grab the 3rd receipt (the card receipt, which this guy ALWAYS tells me to bin, and not politely) and screw it up, while he walks off and I start to serve the girls ID's and all, when he walks back over and claims I didn't give him the £10 top up, dropping a couple of F bombs to drive the point home. I looked at my hand, saw the crumpled paper, opened it up, nope, card receipt... I put it on the counter and check the rest of the counter, no more receipt paper there... I check the bin, one or two bits, just more card receipts... I apply Occam's razor, and deduce that he must in fact have it, there's no way I could have made it disappear... I ask him to double check his pockets... BIG mistake... the F bombs have become beard seeking missiles (apparently I need to fornicate whilst shaving).
I can't be bothered to argue, I re-print the receipt, it automatically reprints the whole transaction, copies of every top up and debit card receipt, and anything else the printer ejected, as well as an itemised receipt (which normally don't print out at all), I hand it over to him and he suggests I have a think about if I can do my job and wanders off mumbling something about breaking my teeth if it didn't work...
The girls were silent after that. I think my rage face may have slipped out.
1st guy is a regular. He looks permanently confused, and he has a habit of doing those tiny little things that piss you off... they don't really qualify as sucky, but they can grate sometimes. Anyway, he asks for £10 top up on network X and £5 on network Y. I could probably do this in my sleep, so I'm in auto-pilot running it through, paying just enough attention to see everything's in order, while also keeping an eye on the 2 girls who came in, all dolled up for a night out, I'm looking to decide if I should ID them.
So now the transaction is going through and I'm idling by waiting for the top-ups to print out, hand them over to him and (at this point I'm definitely on auto, because...) I grab the 3rd receipt (the card receipt, which this guy ALWAYS tells me to bin, and not politely) and screw it up, while he walks off and I start to serve the girls ID's and all, when he walks back over and claims I didn't give him the £10 top up, dropping a couple of F bombs to drive the point home. I looked at my hand, saw the crumpled paper, opened it up, nope, card receipt... I put it on the counter and check the rest of the counter, no more receipt paper there... I check the bin, one or two bits, just more card receipts... I apply Occam's razor, and deduce that he must in fact have it, there's no way I could have made it disappear... I ask him to double check his pockets... BIG mistake... the F bombs have become beard seeking missiles (apparently I need to fornicate whilst shaving).
I can't be bothered to argue, I re-print the receipt, it automatically reprints the whole transaction, copies of every top up and debit card receipt, and anything else the printer ejected, as well as an itemised receipt (which normally don't print out at all), I hand it over to him and he suggests I have a think about if I can do my job and wanders off mumbling something about breaking my teeth if it didn't work...
The girls were silent after that. I think my rage face may have slipped out.
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