So Guitar Hero III came out, followed by a rush of people begging for it, confused parents wandering in without their kids to get it or their kids even though they never clarified with said kids what exactly to get (I hate that), etc, etc. So a woman comes in with her kid and gets one of the previous versions used, and a used guitar after asking me to help her find one. So I start ringing them up, ask them if they had our discount card, and they did, so the kid (about ten or so) whips one out of his battered Pokemon wallet and throws it on the counter.
Here!" he said, "This one always works!"
I reach to scan the barcode, only there is no barcode because it's not a discount card, it just has credit on it. So I say, "Do you have one with a sticker on the back, with a barcode? Because this isn't the right one."
"Yes it is!" yells the little cretin, squirming beside his mother. "I've used it here before!"
"You probably used it for credit," I said as politely as possible. Great, now this stupid little brat's going to argue with me. Wait for it, wait for it...
"No, we used this one!" pipes in the mother, her voice grating through her mean little mouth. "We get those magazines, we have the card!"
"You probably have another card, it looks the same on the front ma'am but you should have one with a barcode on the back."
"This is the one we use, this is the one!" the little kid screeched, pawing the guitar with his dirty little fingers, leaving a trail of grease marks down the buttons as only a filthy child can.
"This is the one we use!" chimed in the mother, like some sort of horrible overgrown parrot.
I tried hard not to sigh. Great, great, this family of morons is going to argue with me.
"Do you not know how to do it?" she asked, rolling her eyes.
"Yes ma'am I sure do know how to do it, every discount card has a barcode on the back that's scanable, seeing as to how this one doesn't, you've probably used it before to spend some credit that was put on there," I reply, smiling while gritting my teeth (ever try that? It kind of hurts.)
"We're never coming here again, what's the total, we're not coming back."
Then came the kicker, the little bastard said, in the smuggest voice possible, "I'll order it online next time!"
Oh god, please do that so I never have to see you again, please. I told her the total, she paid, meanwhile the assistant manager is staring at me from the other side of the store, mouthing, "What the hell?" and I shrugged.
I've only worked there for two years, but I don't know how to do it. She returned the stuff later and said, "I found my card on my dryer!" I kept quiet, but you know I was thinking, I told you you friggin' moron!
Then my night ended when, while walking out after doing my end of the day work (twenty minutes after closing), some douchenozzle getting out of his car in front of the store yelled, "Aw, come on!" after the am locked the door behind me, using that pouty voice only a spoiled twenty year old can. Twenty minutes after six. So I replied, "What time is it sir?" He looked at his watch and said, "Six twenty-two."
Hell, I'm off the clock, I can say whatever I want in public. "It's f***ing Sunday, we close at six like every other retail store ever does!"
Pssh, I'm mad.
Here!" he said, "This one always works!"
I reach to scan the barcode, only there is no barcode because it's not a discount card, it just has credit on it. So I say, "Do you have one with a sticker on the back, with a barcode? Because this isn't the right one."
"Yes it is!" yells the little cretin, squirming beside his mother. "I've used it here before!"
"You probably used it for credit," I said as politely as possible. Great, now this stupid little brat's going to argue with me. Wait for it, wait for it...
"No, we used this one!" pipes in the mother, her voice grating through her mean little mouth. "We get those magazines, we have the card!"
"You probably have another card, it looks the same on the front ma'am but you should have one with a barcode on the back."
"This is the one we use, this is the one!" the little kid screeched, pawing the guitar with his dirty little fingers, leaving a trail of grease marks down the buttons as only a filthy child can.
"This is the one we use!" chimed in the mother, like some sort of horrible overgrown parrot.
I tried hard not to sigh. Great, great, this family of morons is going to argue with me.
"Do you not know how to do it?" she asked, rolling her eyes.
"Yes ma'am I sure do know how to do it, every discount card has a barcode on the back that's scanable, seeing as to how this one doesn't, you've probably used it before to spend some credit that was put on there," I reply, smiling while gritting my teeth (ever try that? It kind of hurts.)
"We're never coming here again, what's the total, we're not coming back."
Then came the kicker, the little bastard said, in the smuggest voice possible, "I'll order it online next time!"
Oh god, please do that so I never have to see you again, please. I told her the total, she paid, meanwhile the assistant manager is staring at me from the other side of the store, mouthing, "What the hell?" and I shrugged.
I've only worked there for two years, but I don't know how to do it. She returned the stuff later and said, "I found my card on my dryer!" I kept quiet, but you know I was thinking, I told you you friggin' moron!
Then my night ended when, while walking out after doing my end of the day work (twenty minutes after closing), some douchenozzle getting out of his car in front of the store yelled, "Aw, come on!" after the am locked the door behind me, using that pouty voice only a spoiled twenty year old can. Twenty minutes after six. So I replied, "What time is it sir?" He looked at his watch and said, "Six twenty-two."
Hell, I'm off the clock, I can say whatever I want in public. "It's f***ing Sunday, we close at six like every other retail store ever does!"
Pssh, I'm mad.
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