Don’t Try To Reason With The Losers

, , , , | Right | June 26, 2018

(I work as a customer service rep for a pretty popular dry cleaning company. I get a lot of wealthier customers at my store, and they tend to come in waves. We have a drive-thru with a sliding glass door, and a walk-in counter. I am, luckily, with my manager and her lead, which means three of our store’s four employees are there. This day, a lady has driven in and is trying to pick up clothes she never actually dropped off. All three of us are looking for any clothes that could be hers mixed in with other orders. There’s a line forming behind her, but no one’s walked in yet. An older, snobby lady behind her speaks up.)

Lady #2: *rolls her window down* “EXCUSE ME!”

Me: *runs out our front door to help her* “Hi! I—”

Lady #2: “What the h*** is taking so d*** long?!”

Me: “I’m so sorry, ma’am; we’re just having a few snags with this customer. I can he—”

Lady #2: “MY NAME IS [LADY #2], AND I DEMAND THAT YOU SERVE ME NOW!”

Me: *managing not to flinch* “Of course! Just a pickup, then?”

Lady #2: “Yes! Four pairs of pants!”

Me: “Right away!” *runs in and rings her up, coming out with her total*

Lady #2: “I’m giving you exact change so you don’t waste my time trying to figure it out!” *takes three minutes trying to count it out, shoving it roughly into my hands, grumbling loudly*

Me: “Thank you!” *runs back into the store and gets her pants, hanging them up*

Lady #2: “Doesn’t this b**** realize she’s holding me up?!”

Me: *does the bad thing and tries to reason with her* “Well, we do end to get backed up with the window; that’s why we have the walk-in counter. It’s also a lot cooler than sitting in a hot car!” *smile*

Lady #2: “EXCUSE ME?! THAT IS WHAT THIS WINDOW IS FOR: PEOPLE IN A HURRY!”

Me: “I’m very sorry, ma’am, I hope your day is better.”

Lady #2: “Yeah? I HOPE YOURS ISN’T! IT’S CALLED CUSTOMER SERVICE! I AM REPORTING YOU TO YOUR BOSS!” *begins to speed away, nearly running over my foot* “THEY SHOULDN’T HAVE HIRED YOU, ANYWAY, YOU FAT, B****Y [LESBIAN SLUR]!”

(My hair is very short, and my mother has yelled at me for getting it cut “like a butch,” and I’m overweight. Normally, I’m very thick-skinned, but this is just getting to me.)

Next Customer: *pulls up* “Well, that was bracing! You okay, sweetheart?”

Me: *nods shakily*

Next Customer: “Well, I think you’re doing great! You’ve always been so nice to me and my wife! That lady was an idiot not to see how beautiful you are, too!”

Me: *trying so hard to keep the tears back* “Thank you, sir. How can I help you?”

Next Customer: “Just dropping off, and don’t worry about the wait. If I was in a hurry, I’d have walked in! Take care now!” *drives off much more carefully*

(Luckily, I had finished my shift. I clocked out and went to my car, and cried for a solid five minutes. The lady never reported me, and when she returned a week later, she apparently didn’t even recognize me, though she complained a bit about “that fat lesbian” that treated her poorly on her last visit. I informed her that it was me, and she got really pale and sped away.)

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