Mismanaged Expectations

| Columbia Heights, Minnesota, MN, USA | Top

(I am the third shift manager at my store. I live only a block from my store, so when I need stuff, I just walk over. I stop in one afternoon on my day off. The store is busy and I notice a lady who is obviously upset. So, I approach just to help out.)

Me: “Hello, ma’am, I work here. Is there something I can help you with?”

Customer: “No. I need to talk to a manager, not some young punk kid.”

(Note that I am 19.)

Me: “Ma’am, I am actually—”

Customer: “I said you can’t help me. I need a manager!”

Me: *gives up* “Yes, ma’am. Let me go in back to get him…”

(I go into our back room where I keep my work shirt most of the time with my name tag. I put them both on real quick, and come out of the back room to the customer.)

Me: “Excuse me, you needed to speak to a manager?”

Customer: “Yes, about time! I want to complain—”

(She turns and sees me, realizing who I am. This just gets her more upset.)

Customer: “What are you doing?!”

Me: “I am a manager. How may I assist you today?”

Customer: “How old are you? You can’t be a manager!”

Me: “I’m nineteen, ma’am, and I am a manager. How may I assist you?”

Customer: “This store is stupid. I’m not coming back!” *leaves*