no really lady, you need to fuck off

The scene: I am running breaks, fielding complaints, accepting returns and trouble shooting for a store that has twenty cashiers while my boss tackles her enormous paperwork backlog. The computers at self-scan are throwing bizarre error messages every three minutes, I'm two lunches behind schedule because some bitch took an extra half hour, the night break person has called in and it's a Friday. Everyone and their dog is out shopping and they're all in love with my place of employment.

The customer: she has the twitchy, moist look of a serial-return-scam-artist and as soon I notice her waddling up the service counter, clutching an open and half-used package of paper towels, I know there's going to be trouble.

The complaint: the paper towels itch.

The problem: let me break it down into small parts, so that you might have a snowball's chance in hell of beginning to fathom her bugfuck craziness -

1. The package is open.
2. The product has been used.
3. The product was purchased two months ago.
4. The customer has no receipt.
5. The customer refuses to show id.
6. The customer insists that we can apply to the vendor for a refund.
7. WE DO NOT CARRY THIS PRODUCT.
8. THIS PRODUCT WAS PURCHASED FROM OUR CHIEF COMPETITOR.

The climax: she insists on speaking with a manager and so I happily pass her on to my boss, who has foolishly come out from the office to check on things. Soon she insists on speaking with my boss's boss - the store manager. She settles for the assistant manager after much complaint. Jim comes out. Twenty minutes later he's staring at her saying, zombielike: "No. No. No. No." "But-" "No." "But-" "No." "BUT-" Security is called and she is escorted from the building.

The epilogue: I managed to fix to the computer at self-scan and get all the breaks done before dragging my tired ass home. Yet another happy ending.