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How To Calm Upset Customers

| Right | October 18, 2013

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Ticket To Italy

| Right | October 18, 2013

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Coffee Cookie Kindness

| Right | October 18, 2013

She Got Trumped

| UK | Right | October 18, 2013

(We have a regular couple of customers: a mother and her young son. They come in predominantly to buy trading cards based on a popular hand-held game. The young boy is very polite and sometimes comes alone. The mother is loathed by most members of staff because of her critical attitude towards her son’s hobby and our stock.)

Mother: “This store is just ridiculous. Why do you stock such crap? Children wasting their money! Parents wasting their money!”

Me: “Well, if he’s saved his money up, it’s all his choice to buy these trading cards, isn’t it?”

Mother: “Yes, but it’s just rubbish! Stupid drivel for STUPID people!”

(My manager, who is nearby, and I are both irritated by this. This woman tends to bully her son every time they are here together. Her son is completely silent other than asking for what packs of cards he wants. As the receipt prints, my manager speaks up.)

Manager: “You know, my colleague here plays trading card games.”

Mother: “What? Why?!”

(Note: I’m 23.)

Manager: “So, by that connection, you’d be calling her stupid, for playing stupid games.”

Mother: “Well, yes!”

Me: “Stupid games that teach things like mathematical and tactical skills.”

Mother: “Well—”

Me: “And that you are, effectively, calling your money-managing, polite, patient young son stupid.”

Mother: “Well—”

Me: “Just remember that.”

(The mother goes white and apologizes profusely, before leaving the store. The son ends up talking to me about some of the card games, and now still does every time he comes back. The mother might still make disparaging remarks about our other stock, but she’s never called anything or anyone ‘stupid’ since.)

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No ID, No Idea, Part 14

| Baltimore, MD, USA | Right | October 18, 2013

(I am a volunteer bartender at a big music festival. We are required to check everyone’s ID upon ordering a drink. It’s now late into the festival, and customers are already pretty drunk.)

Customer: “Can I get a beer?”

Me: “Yes, can I see some ID?”

Customer: *as he’s pulling out his ID* “Okay, but it’s fake!”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Customer: “Yeah, it’s fake. Will you still serve me?”

Me: “Absolutely not!”

Customer: *shoves ID in my face* “Does it look fake!?”

Me: “You just told me your ID is fake. I cannot serve you.”

Customer: “Fine! I’ll go over here!” *moves a foot over to the next bartender’s line*

Me: “I will tell them not to serve you.”

Customer: “Seriously!? WHAT THE H***! I JUST WANT SOME ALCOHOL!”

(At this point the bar manager has witnessed what has transpired.)

Manager: *to customer* “GET THE F*** OUT OF HERE AND DON’T COME BACK, OR I’LL CALL THE COPS!”

 

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