A girl who looked anywhere from 12-14 years old approached my register with about $75 worth of clothes and accessories. After I rung her up and provided her total, she handed me a slip of paper.
I recognized the format of credit card number, cardholder name, and expiration. All were written with pencil, it seemed hastily so.
“It’s my dad’s credit card info,” the girl said confidently.
“Oh,” I said, hoping my face remained a mask of professionalism even while I was laughing incredulously in my head. “I’m sorry, but I can’t accept this-”
“He said it was okay!” she interrupted. “He doesn’t feel comfortable letting me carry his card around, so he wrote down the information. You don’t think I would write it down behind his back, so you?”
Well, yes, that is exactly what I thought. All I said was, “Unfortunately, we need the actual card and cardholder present.”
“But he said it’s okay! You can even call him! I’ll give you his number.”
Now, I may not have been the worst kid growing up, but it wasn’t hard to imagine a more mature voiced friend being on the other end of whatever number I called. Even if it was her actual dad, he still needed to come in with his card. I said the last part to her.
“My dad,” she intoned, “is a Very Important Businessman. He doesn’t have the time to come to the store, but when I get home, I will tell him how you REFUSED to help me. You’re going to be sorry when you see him!”
I didn’t ask how he doesn’t have the time to come to the store, yet would make the exception to make me sorry. I did ask if she wanted me to hold the clothes until closing if her dad was going to come in.
Spoiler alert: he never came in. There wasn’t even a call to my store or corporate. What a twist.