I needed to rant so fucking badly that I've returned to this incestuous breeding ground known as BoS.
I'm now at uni and working as a weekend and Thursday night supervisor at Target (yay promotions! -_-). Due to this unfortunate fact, I must confess more irritations:
1. Don't get your husband to hand his mobile phone to me, which you're on the end of, to yell at me for doing you a favour a few months ago. Seriously, this stupid bitch brought in an exchange coupon a few months ago which couldn't be read or scanned because it was so tattered. I did her a fucking favour and looked up the transaction where the coupon was printed, then wrote the coupon's ID number on a piece of paper, signed it and stuck it to the coupon so she could still use it. Last weekend she had the audacity to bitch because the coupon expired on March 30th 2011, which I clearly pointed out when I re-wrote the ID number. She was like "oh I thought you wrote it on there so I could use it past the expiry date?" Yeah NO. Would never happen. Plus I remember helping the dopey bitch months ago. Also, don't threaten to contact Head Office about it and report me when I quite obviously haven't done anything wrong and was HELPING YOU OUT.
2. If you lose an exchange coupon, I can't replace it. If you ever bothered to look at it before shoving it into your wallet/bag/pocket you would see the Terms of Use clearly stated at the bottom, which include that Target can't be held liable for lost or stolen coupons. This bitch lost a coupon with like $270 on it and asked me to replace it because she lost it, then when I said no and refused to let her speak to a manager (they don't know very much about refunds and register operations, generally, so it would've been a pointless exercise) she went on and on about how she will never shop at Target again (bullshit, you'll be back next week) and will make a formal complaint. It's the same thing as walking into a bank and saying "I lost $270, can you give me money to replace it?" Enjoy being escorted out by security!
3. If I ask you to write your FULL NAME, ADDRESS, POSTCODE and SIGNATURE as LEGIBLY AS POSSIBLE, then fucking do it correctly the first time. I need these details to be clear so I can send them to Asset Protection to keep an eye on dodgy fuckers like yourself who return items without a receipt. When I ask you to re-write details that I can't read easily, don't accuse me of needing glasses (I'm short-sighted btw) and say "it CLEARLY says..." No it doesn't. Get tha fuck outta ma shop!
4. No, I will not bend the rules outlined in our Refunds Policy just for you. Leave, now.
5. Hang on to your receipts! Seriously, it makes my job so much easier and means there's less chance of you getting pissed at something that's not my fault.
6. If you lose your receipt, no I won't reprint a copy. I have the ability to do so, but will only do that when our printers fuck up and the receipt either doesn't print or didn't print properly.
7. Thirteen registers are behind me, with at least two staff members serving. No, you can't purchase your shit at the Refunds Counter. Don't be surprised if I make you line up at the registers.
8. Abuse my staff in any way, shape or form and I will ask you to leave. I look after my staff because they're lovely kids, all trying to earn money like myself. Your pissweak $5 sale won't affect my paycheck whatsoever.
9. Don't EVER speak down to me. I don't work at Target for a career, I work there to earn money so I can like, eat and pay rent. Same thing goes for 90% of the other staff who work there and are uni students (our store is like 15 minutes away from UQ). At least we're contributing to society which is more than I can say about you, you useless cumstain.
10. If you put your credit card on the counter in front of me and your bratty two-year-old daughter picked it up before I saw you take it out of your wallet and was playing with it, don't you dare accuse me of stealing it. Saying "OMG it has like a million dollar limit!!! Help me find it!!!!1111!" won't help you, you're the one shopping at Target, bitch. Also, don't abuse me and my managers when we look on the security cameras to try to HELP YOU find your effing card, which your snotty toddler shoved in their pants ages ago.
I feel better.