Several years ago, I was with my mother and children at a home improvement chain. I was driving around looking for a close parking space for my mother.

I noticed an elderly couple trying to get the tailgate open on their truck, and I could see that they were really struggling, so I parked in a spot and told my family to sit tight and I’d be right back.

Me: *To the couple* “Do you two need some help?”

Man: “The tailgate is not in great shape.”

I tried to get it down, but I couldn’t do it, either. Instead, I just grabbed the boxes of tiles they had purchased and gently set them down in the truck bed.

Man: “Those are heavy! Be careful not to hurt yourself.”

They were about fifty pounds each, and I was pretty small — 5’2” and 110 pounds.

Woman: “I’m sure she’s used to it since she works here.”

Me: *Smiling* “Oh, I don’t work here. I just saw that you needed help.”

She had this incredibly bewildered look on her face. She was speechless and just stared at me. Her husband thanked me, and I told them to have a great day and I went back to my car.

It is back in the 1980s, and I am a fresh graduate doing some accounting for a small home renovation company. They have a brick mason on the payroll who is currently building a chimney for a client. The client is being invoiced weekly during the project, but he hasn’t paid the last two, so I am calling him.

Me: “Hello, sir, this is [My Name] from [Renovation Company]. I’d like to—”

Client: “Yeah, yeah, I’ll pay you guys soon. You’re all so needy! Money this, money that.”

Me: “I understand, sir, but as your account is behind by two invoices, we do need to—” 

Client: “I said I’ll pay when I can! Stop being needy!” *Click*

Well, he was a complete delight. I give him forty-eight hours, and when no invoice has been paid and the third is due soon, I call again.

Me: “Sir, our brick mason has almost finished your job, and you’re behind on payments. You’re at risk of him not finishing if you don’t settle—”

Client: “He’s done a crap job! I’m not satisfied at all! I think you should give me a discount because of this shoddy workmanship!”

Me: “Sir, our brick mason has over twenty years of experience in his field, and based on site inspections, there are no reported issues with the quality of your chimney. We will not be offering any discounts without evidence of—”

Client: “I won’t be paying more than I’ve already paid! I should be asking for a refund because of the low quality of the job, so you’re lucky I’m feeling nice!” *Click*

I relay what the client said to my manager, just as the brick mason himself is walking into the office.

Manager: “Oh, well, that happens sometimes, and honestly, this client was giving us some red flags from the start. I’m not that worried, though. Are you, [Brick Mason]?”

Brick Mason: “Nah. I did the thing, so if he doesn’t pay, he’s not getting a working chimney.”

Me: “What’s ‘the thing’?”

Manager: “Well, when [Brick Mason] is doing chimneys, every several courses of bricks, he puts in some plastic across the opening. When the job is done and we’re fully paid, he cuts out the plastic. 

Me: “And if we don’t get paid?

Brick Mason: “We just don’t say a word, and we wait for the call from them saying the house is full of smoke.”

Me: “Isn’t that… kind of… dangerous?”

Brick Mason: “Not as dangerous as not paying your contractor.”

I was young, and I didn’t know how I felt about their “solution”, but it seemed to work! The client called saying our chimney wasn’t working, and they said they would go out to fix it if the client paid up in full.

I was very young, and it was a different time, so I don’t think I would let it fly today, but back then, it did seem oddly satisfactory.

I’m a twenty-four-year-old girl working at a large home improvement retailer as a contractor sales associate. I’m lucky enough to have my parents pay for law school, and I work in retail to pay for other expenses. I’m well trained, and customers enjoy seeing me at the desk since I’m easier to work with than some of the guys and their egos.

Customers tend to just leave carts with lumber and large merchandise laying around. I’ve made it a habit to leave sticky notes with times on the carts so I can keep track of how long they’ve been there so I can put the merchandise back.

I am working on a busy Saturday in the summer, and I tag a cart of lumber at the start of my shift. When I get back from lunch three hours later, the cart is still there with the original sticky tag and merchandise. Assuming it’s abandoned, I put the merchandise back.

An hour later, a customer approaches me, ranting.

Customer: “Someone’s put my cart back!”

Me: “I apologize, sir! It had been left for so long that I thought it was abandoned.”

The response that follows is beyond rude. The customer proceeds to swear, degrade, and rant about how terrible I am. Rattled, I call my manager and ask him to come down. The customer calls me every rude name under the sun and leaves when some of the guys on the floor come over to see what’s going on. I am in tears when my manager comes over

I work the next Sunday morning, and lo and behold, the same customer is my first of the day. I immediately call management, and they come over to cash him through while I get a look at his truck, which advertises a small window company.

I tell my parents immediately, and they assure me it’ll be okay. My parents ask me when I m working next, and we don’t mention the incident for a week or two.

About three weeks after the incident, I pull into my driveway and am shocked to see the same van that the customer drives. I walk inside my house and see my parents sitting at the table with that customer. He has brochures and a quote set up to replace the windows in our large, old home.

My mom calls for me to come into the living room, and the man looks up at me, not recognizing me at first. My mom turns to the man and says in her sweetest voice:

Mom: “This is my daughter, but I believe you’ve already met her.”

Customer: *Confused* “Sorry, I don’t recognize you.”

Dad: *Smiling* “She works at [My Store].”

The look on the man’s face, when he realizes who I am, cannot be described as anything less than perfect.

Mom: “Thank you for coming and for the quote, but we aren’t going to go ahead with your company.”

He apologized profusely as he left my house, minus a huge sale. I think that he may have learned a valuable lesson about Karma and treating other people, including retail workers, with respect.

Related:
The More You Read, The Worse It Gets, Part 8
The More You Read, The Worse It Gets, Part 7
The More You Read, The Worse It Gets, Part 6
The More You Read, The Worse It Gets, Part 5
The More You Read, The Worse It Gets, Part 4

I work for a flooring company that deals with many private contractors. We have a regular contractor who is always a jerk to us, but today, he is being particularly awful and abusive.

Contractor: “I’m here for my order.”

Me: “For which client?”

Contractor: “I don’t know. Just look me up.”

Me: “I can’t do that. I need to know your client’s name, contact information, or order number.”

Contractor: “You see me here all the time. Just look me up! Jesus Christ!”

Me: “Without that information, I can’t help you.”

I happily move on to the next customer. [Contractor] stands around glaring at me for a minute before he gets the hint that I’m not going to help him and storms off.

He comes back a little later with some snide look as he pulls his cell phone out of his pocket and makes a call. He gets on the phone.

Contractor: “Hey, it’s [Contractor]. I’m at [Floor Store]. Yeah, they lost your order.”

Then, he looks at me and tells me the client wants to speak to me. Normally, I refuse to speak to someone on a phone that isn’t mine or a company phone, but this time, I’m done. I oblige and take the phone from him and bring it to my ear. Before the customer can say anything, I say:

Me: “Hello, this is [My Name] from [Floor Store Warehouse]. I’m here with your contractor. He doesn’t know what your name is and didn’t have any of your contact information when he came in earlier. If you could give that to me, I’d be happy to find your order for him and load him up once I verify he’s authorized to receive it.”

His smug smile is replaced by a blank stare of horror. The customer responds.

Customer: “I see. My name is [Customer].”

I shuffle through my files and find his order.

Me: “I’ve found the order. Is [Contractor] your contractor?”

Customer: “Not anymore. Please hand the phone back to him. I’ll arrange a pickup at a later date. Thanks for your help.”

 I never saw [Contractor] again after that.

I work at a home improvement store. The assistant flooring manager moved up, meaning we needed a person to fill the space. The only person who applied was an older lady with MANY health issues, which have caused my department to have some issues.

My name is a six-syllable name and many people ask if I have a nickname. No. I went all through school going by the shortened version of my name, and I’m done with trying to make it easy on people.

New Assistant: “Your name is too hard! Don’t you have a nickname or something? Like [First Half of my name] or [Second Half]?”

Either half could be a girl’s name.

Me: “No. My name is [My Name]. Not [First Half], not [Second Half]. Just [My Name].”

New Assistant: “But that’s too haaaarrrdddd! Too many syllables! What if I call you [My First Initial]?”

Me: “Mm… absolutely not. It’s [My Name].”

New Assistant: “ [My First Initial]?”

Me: “[My Name].”

New Assistant: “ [My First Initial]?”

Me: “You can try calling me that, but I will only ever respond to [My Name].”

And I walked away before I punched this fifty-year-old lady in the face. My name is my name. Don’t try to shorten it.