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    Welcome To Retail, Part 3

    , | Richmond, VA, USA |

    (I am watering the plants in the nursery, about two hours before closing time, and see a customer down the aisle.)

    Me: “Can I help you find anything, sir? ”

    Customer: “Uh… uh… ”

    (I then notice that he’s peeing on some of our boxwoods.)

    Me: “What–”

    Customer: “I AM THE TERROR THAT FLAPS IN THE NIGHT!” ¬†*zips up and runs out*

    Coworker: “Did that guy just quote Darkwing Duck at you?!”

    Me: *drops watering hose* “I’m taking a break.”

    Related:
    Welcome To Retail, Part 2
    Welcome To Retail

    Think Unpoopy Thoughts

    | Cleveland, OH, USA |

    Me: “Hi, can I help you?”

    Customer: “We’re looking at the toilets. What does the ‘flush rating’ on the box mean?”

    Me: “That indicates the amount of flush power.”

    Customer: “But what is it measuring?”

    Me: “It’s just a general rating to give you an idea of the power of the flush on this model.”

    Customer: “And the picture of the basket of golf balls on the box?”

    Me: “This is just an illustration claiming this toilet can flush a full bucket of golf balls without clogging.”

    Customer: “I worked in an old building once, and whenever I would use the toilet there it would clog up.”

    (I smile blandly and pray she doesn’t continue.)

    Customer: “Maybe the golf ball toilet would be good then. I mean, if it can handle a whole basket of balls… right?

    (My smile wanes, and I hope she doesn’t start describing shape, color, consistency.)

    Customer: “Well, food for thought I guess. Oh, dear, I shouldn’t say ‘food’ when it comes to toilets!”

    Yes, It’s For My Longmower

    , | Chesapeake, VA, USA |

    Me: “Lawn and Garden, this is Karen.”

    (The customer, a very nice lady, explains that she needs a part number for a belt on her riding lawn mower, but she can’t find the manual and doesn’t know the model number of the mower. I have her describe the mower for me so I can narrow it down.)

    Customer: “Well, it’s last year’s Cub Cadet model with the 48 inch dick.”

    Me: “…”

    Customer: “I mean DECK!!”

    (It took me a good minute or two to stop laughing.)

    Related:
    Of All The Moments For Freud To Slip

    There Are No Stupid Questions, Just Stupid People, Part 2

    , | Toronto, ON, Canada |

    (I overheard a coworker trying to help someone choose a plant.)

    Coworker: “Hi, how can I help you today?”

    Customer: “I’m looking for a nice plant for the front of my house.”

    Coworker: “Alright, we have a number of excellent options to choose from. What kind of sun exposure does the spot get?”

    Customer: “Well… it’s light all day, then dark at night.”

    Me: *losing hope*

    Related:
    There Are No Stupid Questions, Just Stupid People

    On Pennies, Principles, and Pissiness

    | Edmonton, AB, Canada |

    (This is when I was working at a certain home improvement store in a rural area of Edmonton.)

    (A lady walks up carrying a bag of manure.)

    Lady: “Can you tell me the price of this item, please?”

    Me: “Sure thing. It comes up to $6.50, ma’am.”

    Lady: “$6.50? Hmm…I don’t suppose you can call [competitor store] and see how much they sell it for, can you?”

    Me: “Sure thing, ma’am.”

    (I call up our competitor, and it turns out they sell the same product for $6.49.)

    Me: “They have it on sale for $6.49, ma’am.”

    Lady: “$6.49! Would you be able to make a price match?”

    Me: “Uh….you want me to lower the price from $6.50 to $6.49?”

    Lady: “Yes, that’s right. Is that a problem?”

    Me: “Well, uh…”

    (She wants it lowered by a CENT? The store policy doesn’t let me lower it unless it’s a dollar difference, or by special request of the currently absent manager.)

    Me: “Erm…well, policy is that we can’t lower the price unless the difference is at least a dollar.”

    Lady: “What!? That’s crazy! I demand you lower the price for me, or I’m taking this straight to management!”

    Me: “Ma’am, there’s really no need to do that. It’s company policy, there’s nothing really I can do.”

    Lady: “FINE!” *throws down the bag* “I’m leaving and going to [competitor store]!”

    Me: “…Have a nice day.”

    (I’d like to point out that the nearest competitor store is about twenty minutes away. She’d have paid more in gas getting there than she would have if she just bought it here.)

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