(A customer phones in to make a payment on their financing account.)
Me: “How may I help you?”
Customer: “I’d like to make a payment on my account.”
(I get the customer’s information and tell them how much their due payment is…)
Me: “And did you want to pay with Visa or Mastercard?”
Customer: “Cash.”
Me: “You have to come into the store to pay cash, sir.”
Customer: “Oh, I do?”
Me: “…”
Me: “Hello, *** Travel. How may I help you?”
Caller: “Hello I have a question.”
Me: “Sure, go ahead.”
Caller: “Do you offer cruise packages?”
Me: “Yes sir, we do.”
Caller: “Would that be on a ship?”
Me: “…”
(Girl walks up to the desk looking around, confused. It is Ash Wednesday, and I work at a Catholic university.)
Me: “Can I help you?”
Girl: “Yes, can I ask you a question?”
Me: “Sure.”
Girl: “Why does everyone have crosses on their foreheads?”
Me: “…it’s Ash Wednesday.”
Girl: “Oh. I thought they were part of a cult or something.”
(Customer comes in after filling his car.)
Me: “G’day sir, pump number 4?”
Customer: “Yeah.”
Me: “That’ll be $47.90.”
Customer: “I spilled a bit of gas out there.”
(There is an auto-shut off feature which the customer apparently ignored and kept pumping.)
Me: “Oh, don’t worry about that sir.”
Customer: “What are you going to do about it?”
Me: “I’ll just spread some cat litter on it and soak it right up.”
Customer: “No, I mean, what are you going to do for me? Gas is expensive and I can’t afford to be pouring it all over the ground!”
Me: “…then may I suggest not overfilling your gas tank?”
(A customer gives me a Canadian quarter. I refuse to accept it. He gets angry.)
Me: “Sir, I can’t accept this quarter. It’s Canadian.”
Customer: “So? I got it from somewhere in the US so you must accept it.”
Me: “No sir, I can not. My drawer will come up short.”
Customer: “It’s not my fault someone gave me this quarter! Why should I take the blame for it? Take the quarter!”
Me: “Oh I see, so it is my fault then?”
Customer: “YES! Take the quarter!”
(I take a quarter out of my pocket and then throw that Canadian quarter across the room to a trash can.)
Customer: “Call your manager.”
Me, smiling: “I am the owner, sir. How can I help you?”
Related:
Even Bosses Have A Stupid Quota
(I work at a Landscaping Supply company. Selling dirt, rock, compost, etc. I work in the office, answering phones and helping people work out how much material they need for their jobs. A lady came in and filled up a few small containers with cobble-rocks and wanted to know how much she owed, so I went outside to look at her
product.)
Me: “Hmm. Looks like three cubic feet. We’ll go inside and ring you up!” *starts walking back inside*
Lady: *doesn’t move*
Me: *stops by the door* “Is there something else I can help you with, ma’am?”
Lady: “Well. I watched on the Discovery Channel that men are better with visual volume than women. So if you can get one of the -guys- to look at my materials, I’d appreciate it.”
(At this point I’m absolutely floored. I am a victim of a lot of sexism with my line of work, but from ANOTHER WOMAN? Give me a break! Forget that I’ve been doing this for five years and approved by the county with a huge certificate on the back wall of the office, lady!)
Me: “Sure. Give me one moment.” *steps inside, pulls one of the random boys aside* “Can you look at this lady’s load?”
Male Co-Worker: “…didn’t you look at it?”
Me: “Apparently because I have boobs I can’t tell visual volume, so can you just make her happy?”
Male Co-Worker: “Sure, how much did you say?”
Me: “Three cubic feet.”
Male Co-Worker: “Thanks.”
(Basically, he goes out there and tells her the same exact thing. She comes in, and doesn’t even apologize for causing the trouble, pays for the material and pikes out without another word).
(After customer made copies of several $100 dollar bills on a self-serve copier.)
Customer: “I need to send this money.”
Me: “Err–what did you need to do?”
Customer: “I need to send this money to my son. What’s it called? Fax it!”
Me: “…I’ll ring you up for these copies. There’s a Western Union next door.”
(I was working the morning shift at a local sandwich shop and accidently gave the wrong order to the wrong patron. I ran outside to trade the first customer and came back in and approached the second…)
Me: “Sorry sir, I gave your order to the wrong man. Would you like me to remake this for you?”
Customer: “You put s**t in my sandwich! I don’t want it back!”
Me: “Oh, no sir. I’m sorry. See I gave this to the wrong man and ran out to trade him. Like I said, I can remake this for you it will just take a minute.”
Customer: “NO. You put s**t in my sandwich, I don’t want YOU to make me another.”
Me: “Well okay, sir. If you meet me at my register I will be more than happy to refund your money.”
Customer: “Listen here you little b***h, you put s**t in my f*****g sandwich! I can’t believe your manager doesn’t fire you!”
(This whole time my manager stand there laughing, doing nothing to help.)
Me: “What can I do to make this experience better for you? I can make a new sandwich or give you your money back.”
Customer: “F**K YOU!”
(He then storms away and leaves sandwich/money free. As he’s leaving I yell…)
Me: “Thanks for breakfast!”
Related:
An Expensive Temper Tantrum
(I work at a large electronics retail chain, the largest in the world, that has very large lighted signs on the outside of their buildings, an easily recognizable color scheme, and million-dollar highly polished TV commercials.)
(I was standing near computer software, towards the BACK of the store, when a customer walked straight down the center aisle, passing all the other departments and products, and right up to me. He opened his mouth, paused for a second, and asked me:)
Customer: “What store is this?”
(The place I work at, our dining room closes at 10pm but the drive-through stays open all night. I had just locked both the dining room doors when a man comes up and starts banging on the 1st door. We start talking through the door.)
Me: “Sorry, we’re closed.”
Customer: “You screwed up my order!”
Me: “I’m sorry. You could go through our drive-through and they’d be happy to help you.”
Customer: “I just came through! They’re the ones that messed it up.”
Me: “I’m really sorry about that, if you go through again they’ll fix it for you.”
Customer: “I don’t have my car!”
Me: “But you said you just went through?”
Customer: “Yeah, but I don’t have my car anymore.”
Me: “I can give you our store number. If you call, we’ll replace your order tomorrow.”
Customer: “Just open the door!”
Me: “I can’t sir, we’re closed.”
(The man then walks around the store to the 2nd door and starts banging there.)
Me: “Sir, the only way we can fix this is if you go through the drive-through or give us a call.”
Customer: “I don’t have a phone!”
Me: “You can save your receipt and show it to us tomorrow. We’ll replace the whole order.”
Customer: “This is bullshit!”
(He then enters the drive-through on foot, weaving through cars in line, gets between the drive-through window and a car waiting to order and starts banging on the glass.)
Manager: “I’m sorry sir, I can’t open the window unless you’re in a car.”
Customer: “I don’t have my car anymore and you messed up my order. Tell your employees to open the door.”
Manager: “I’m sorry, we can’t unlock the doors once we’re closed. That’s our policy. If you return in the morning, we’ll be glad to help.”
Customer: “Don’t f*ck with me. I’ll call the cops on you! You can’t refuse service to me!”
(Just then, a car pulls up behind him. The woman driving rolls down her window.)
Woman: “Get in the f*cking car! Its not that big a deal.”
Customer: “They won’t fix our order!”
Woman: “Get in the f*cking car! This is f*cking embarrassing!”
(The man gets in and the car pulls up to the window.)
Woman: “I’m sorry. All that happened was you forgot to give us a burrito.”
Manager: “We’ll get that for you right away.”
(As soon as window is closed, the woman starts yelling at the man again.)
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