We Aren’t Criminals, Sam’s Club

sams-club-logoBack in June of 2007, I wrote about a guy who was tired of being stopped at the door of Sam’s Club in “Sir, May I See Your Receipt?” I normally don’t mind the procedure too much, but two of the last two times at our Sam’s Club has brought down my hammer upon their heads.

A month ago we were stopped at the door like everyone else, and she nicely pointed out that they had not rung up one of our stacks of drinks. How they missed an entire stack, I don’t know, so we walked right up to the customer service counter and ran another receipt for them. Yesterday was on an entirely different level.

The finger-pointer counted our items, looked at the receipt, and then counted the items again. And again. And again. Seriously, four times! And then she pulled out a man-sized set of kahones and asked us if we had another receipt for our items. /blink, blink… NO! She put our receipt on a bin by the door and told us to go to the counter and pay for our missing items: 48 cans of Fanta Orange… on the top of all of the other items. Not like we paid for our cart and pushed 300-400 lbs of drinks ALL the FRIGGIN’ way back to the BACK WALL of the store to grab $14.21 of additional drinks after we already dropped $131. If we’re good for that much, I think we can scrape up enough for 2 more cases, lady.

So we stood in line right there in front of her growing line of other suspected criminals, as if we’d done something wrong, for a full three minutes before deciding to go through checkout again. Getting there, we realized we didn’t have a receipt for the rest of the stuff, so I had to convince the clerk that I just needed two cases rung up (I’m sure the receipt Nazi would stop us if we tried to exit with a receipt showing two items, dude).

Arriving back at the exit, she grabbed our receipt as I told her I didn’t appreciate having to communicate to the checkout guy that I’d already paid for the rest of it but that you were holding on to our proof, for some reason. *Duct tape your head now, last warning* She pointed at the “customer service” counter and said we could have just gone there. We both turned around and I pointed and exclaimed in a pretty pissed off tone that those people had been in line ahead of us the whole time and were still standing there.

“Oh, sorry.”