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    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*