OKAY SO awhile back I was asked to post some of my crazy behind-the-counter stories. Here is one, and I'm curious how you would react if you were a mystery shopper who was in the store at the time. For this to make sense you'll need to know that I'm a roly-polyish young woman who routinely gets told I look like I'm still in high school and when this took place I wore long hair in a bun, rather than the Jennifer Lawrence cut I have now.
So this guy comes in and buys one of those 40oz beers. I card him and he hands me his military ID. I say "thank you for your service" and hand it back to him. He buys his alcohol and leaves.
About 90 seconds later he comes back with the bottle and says he wants to return it and get something else. I apologize and tell him that alcohol and liquor are restricted items and it's illegal for me to make the return. He goes into a rage: how dare I treat him this way, he didn't serve in the Marines to be told by some upstart @#$%& that he can't drink, etc. etc.
At this point, my trainee, "Jim," leaves the coffee bar and comes up to stand next to me: he's six feet tall and while he's incredibly skinny, you can also see some serious muscle in his arms. He quietly tells the guy "I think you better go." The guy turns to him and I @#$%& you not this is what happens:
"At least they got a man in this store. I wanna return this."
Jim repeats what I already said and the guy says "I want you to call a manager. No woman is gonna tell me what I can't do."
Jim's (extraordinarily epic, in my opinion) reply: "Dude, she IS the manager. And she will call the cops on you, she doesn't screw around. You should really go."
The guy then demands to speak to MY boss. So I call "my boss," the market manager: "Laura." (There is a reason for this and the reason is that calling the police at this point could actually seriously put people in danger--do not @#$%& with a visibly enraged Marine--so I'm going to comply with his request insofar as to call the market manger.)
"Laura, I have a gentleman in my store demanding to make an alcohol return who doesn't believe I'm the manager and wants to speak to you."
Laura, bless her, played right along and agreed that yes, I was the recently-promoted manager and my new nametag hadn't yet arrived. The whole phone call took maybe a minute and at the end of it the guy smashed the beer bottle on the counter and walked out. I still haven't acknowledged you, in large part because I'm afraid to take my eyes off this guy.
Now imagine the customer who I had in line behind this nut was the mystery shopper, and that is you. You get to the front counter, there's beer and glass everywhere, I'm very clearly wearing a nametag that says "Assistant Manager," my trainee has not rung you up because he was trying to stay between me and an angry Marine, and all I do is shrug and say "I'm sorry for the wait, I was afraid he might get violent. Jim, can you get the glass up?" and ring you up. In your report you're supposed to report on wait time and professionalism.
WHAT DO YOU DO?