My coworker is doing curbsides and passes by a woman in our vinyl section.

Coworker: “Hi.”

Customer: “Hi.”

My coworker continues with her duties for a bit.

Customer: “Well?! Aren’t you going to offer some help?!”

Coworker: *Taken aback* “Do you need something?”

Customer: “Forget it. I don’t want your help! This customer service is terrible!” *Storms off*

Coworker: “O… kay?”

Later, I have to deal with this customer, as she comes to my line and finally tells us what she wants.

Me: “Hi, how are you doing?”

Customer: “I want to know if you have a similar item in another store.” *Gives me a vinyl*

Me: “This same item?”

Customer: “No, a similar one with green lines on it. You’re out of stock.”

Me: “Got it. I can look it up, but it’s going to have a different barcode than this item. Let me go to the vinyl section and see if I can get the code.”

She follows me to the vinyl, but on the way, another customer stops me.

Other Customer: “Excuse me, I need help with something—”

Customer: “UGH! FORGET IT! THE CUSTOMER SERVICE HERE IS TERRIBLE!” *Storms off again*

Me: “So you… don’t want my help, then?”

Befuddled, I try to help this other customer who didn’t blow up at me. In the process of helping her with her curbside, the first customer comes up to me.

Customer: “Well?! Aren’t you going to help me?”

Me: “You want my help now?”

Customer: “YES! I was first; you help me now!”

Me: “All right, but we’re just really busy today. I can only help one person at a time—”

Customer: “And my time is just as valuable as anyone else’s! You don’t know if I’m in a hurry! And I hear you mumbling behind that mask; that’s not helping you!”

I tend to mumble sometimes, and I hum when I think. This usually isn’t an issue, but it’s hard not to have a knee-jerk reaction when you’re trying to help someone and they’re being as rude as possible.

I try to find the barcode — easier said than done. Like she said, the item’s out of stock and I can only try to find an empty peg and hope that the correct barcode is there for me to scan. Her daughter tries to speak to me.

Customer: “Don’t bother, dear. She’s just going to ignore you!”

Me: “I am literally trying to help you right now.”

Customer: “That’s it! Where’s your manager?!”

I call my manager, who can thankfully spot an entitled jerk from a mile away. The customer proceeds to complain about my coworker and me, claiming that we ignored her and that I was “mouthing off” to her.

Customer: “I don’t pay you money for people like this!”

I finally had enough and left her to my manager to deal with. Thankfully, I wasn’t in trouble, just told not to mumble so much.

This is an email correspondence that draws over several weeks.

Customer: “I would like to return this kids’ mattress. It was advertised as organic, but when I opened it, it had a label that said it was highly flammable!”

Me: “Oh, that sounds strange. Can you please send us a photograph of this label so that we can take it up with the manufacturer? This is supposed to be one of the safest mattresses on the market!”

We email the manufacturer, asking them if they have any idea what the customer is referring to.

Customer: “I threw the label away.”

Me: “The manufacturer says that there is no such label on the mattress.”

Customer: “Yes, there was; both my partner and I saw it, and we are highly-educated people so I think we know how to read!”

We get the manufacturer to send us all the labels and instruction manuals that come with the mattress.

Me: “Are you referring to this label that says, ‘This mattress is made from flame-retardant materials without additives.’?”

Customer: “You marketed this as an organic mattress, and if it is flammable it is not organic!”

Me: *Flabbergasted* “As stated earlier, it is not a flammable mattress. Of course, it will eventually catch fire if you put it on a flame, but this will take longer to catch fire than other mattresses. Furthermore, it is organic and certified as such, as stated in the description.”

Customer: “A product that contains chemicals can’t be organic! You are lying to me and I want to return this mattress!”

I really wanted to ask her if she would like an organic hay mattress, instead, but you know, that WOULD be highly flammable.

I’m in charge of the cashiers. I call a lady forward and she’s a little quiet, but otherwise fine, until I pick up a pair of white pants.

Customer: “Those had… something on them. But I still want them.”

Me: “Oh? Okay, where is the stain? I may even be able to discount them!”

It’s one of the few powers I have, and I don’t mind helping out where I can. But this is where things take a turn. There is blood on the crotch of the pants, and a little down one of the legs. Horrified, I am stunned into silence for several moments.

Me: “I… I don’t think I can sell these. It’s a hazard to health.”

She stays silent and stares at me.

Me: “Is that… is that okay?”

At this point, I am completely at a loss.

Customer: “Yes, that’s fine.”

After she left, it took very little digging to realize she had been the one to bleed on them. I was horrified and revolted that she had let me touch the pants with my bare hands, and I wrapped them in two bags before washing my hands for five minutes straight.

I am rearranging stock when a man approaches me. I am a visiting merchandiser so do not know the exact locations of stock nor am I supposed to leave my work to find what the customers are after; usually, I direct them to a staff member.  

Customer: “Where is the maple syrup?”

Me: “That’s not in this aisle; it’s in the aisle with the dessert toppings. Sorry, but I can’t show you; I don’t actually work here. A staff member could help you better.”

Customer: *Getting crankier each time he talks* “Hmph! I was told it was in this aisle. I need it for tomorrow.”

It’s the day before ANZAC Day when we honour our armed forces and their sacrifices; there’s a traditional biscuit that is often baked for that day.

Me: “Are you making ANZAC Biscuits?”

Customer: “Yes.”

Me: “Oh, then you are after golden syrup. The shelves for golden syrup are just down from where we are, but unfortunately, it’s completely sold out.”

Customer: “How do you know that?”

Me: *Pointing to the empty shelves* “This is where it should be.”

Customer: “Why didn’t you tell me that in the first place?”

Me: “I thought you asked for maple syrup?”

Customer: *Raising his voice* “I DID!”

Me: *Stunned* “Well, I suggest you find a staff member, then. I can’t help you.”

He stared at me before stomping off, grumbling to himself.

The shop I work at offers online shipping via two popular online shop websites. All of the online stuff goes through our storage facility in the next town over; I’ve never even been there since I only work at the store. Unfortunately, the phone number for customers rings the store, so I get many online customers asking for things I cannot help them with, mostly because they’re supposed to write emails.

This customer is being polite but is very worked up and basically screeching in my ear with her very shrill voice. 

Customer: “Good morning! I ordered [product #1] online and I got [product #2]!”

Me: “Good morning, I’m sorry for the inconvenience. Have you ordered via [Online Retailer #1] or [Online Retailer #2]?”

Customer: “[Online Retailer #2].”

Me: “Okay. On the website, you should see a button labeled ‘contact seller through [Online Retailer #2].’ Please use that to write an email with your contact information and issue.”

Customer: “I already did that.”

I’m surprised because usually everyone gets an answer within a day or two.

Me: “When?”

Customer: “Maybe an hour ago? Little less?”

Seriously, an hour? Our shop doesn’t have an automated “We’ll get back to you within twenty-four hours” email, but can people please use some common sense?