Behaving Like A Rugrat

, , , , , , , | Right | January 18, 2019

(I am a cashier, checking out a woman who has random bits and bobs, including a rug. She is on her phone the whole time, speaking French — we are in England. When I pick up the rug I am shocked to see a competitor name on the rug tag. I have to leave the till a moment and show my manager that a competitor rug has shown up in our stock.)

Manager: “We can’t sell it to her; it’s not our stock.”

Me: “Can I just scan another rug and sell it to her at that price, one the same size or something? They’re not going to get this rug back and we can’t keep it.”

Manager: “No, we can’t sell it. Just tell her what has happened and get another rug for her that looks the same.”

(I sigh, knowing he is right but it would just be easier for everyone, and go to explain to the customer what has happened.)

Customer: “Why can’t I have this rug?”

Me: “Because it is from a competitor’s store, and I can’t even begin to explain how it got here.”

(I unroll the rug and show her the tag; it clearly says the other store’s name on it. All the while, she is holding her phone to her chest as I speak to her. I set the rug aside and finish scanning all her items and put them in the trolley for her. She then goes to remove the rug and place it in the trolley.)

Me: “I’m sorry, I can’t sell you that rug.”

(I pick it up and place it behind the till where she can’t get it; she gives me a dirty look.)

Customer: “Why can’t I have that rug?”

Me: “Because it is from a competitor’s store and I have no idea how it got here, but it is not our rug to sell. I’m sorry, but my manager told me not to sell it. I can I get you another one, maybe?”

Customer: “Yeah, whatever.”

(She then goes back to speaking in French on the phone, and I wonder if she is talking about me to the person on the other end. I go and check the rug aisle but find there is nothing matching the rug in colour or size, so I go back and explain to her the situation. She pulls the phone away from her ear.)

Customer: “Now listen to me. I need that rug. Now, just pick it up and sell it to me.”

Me: “I’m sorry, it’s out of my hands. Can I get you anything else?”

Customer: “Yeah, help me with my stuff to my car.”

(I do, and I find her trying to get a huge mirror and everything else in a two-door coupe with the roof down. She doesn’t help me unload the trolley, and doesn’t thank me at all or acknowledge me, so I sling the last bag onto her seat and set off with the trolley back into my store. I’m sorry, guys, but she was just a horribly rude person. After I return to my till and serve a few more customers, she reappears.)

Customer: “Where the h*** is my rug?”

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