He Got Chewed Out Way More Than The Dog-Bed

While working the checkout, I spot and recognize a customer we call “Yelling Guy” behind a couple of other customers in line. He has a big pillow-thing in his hands. When I get to him, I gave him my usual cheery greeting.

Me: “Did you find everything okay?” 

His response is to violently throw what turns out to be a dog bed onto the counter. 

Yelling Guy: “I want a refund on this f****** piece of s***!”

I’m a little taken aback, but I nod. He doesn’t have a receipt, but it’s our store’s policy to either allow an exchange of the same item without a receipt or offer store credit. I notice that the inside of the dog bed is completely ripped to shreds.

Me: “What happened?”

Yelling Guy: “It’s supposed to be made out of f****** chew-resistant material, but my dogs still chewed it up! This is bad advertising! How the h*** are you supposed to make people believe that this s*** is tough like the label says?!”

I notice that, while the sides are made of reinforced, canvas-like material, it’s the center of the bed — the soft, pillow-y part that’s supposed to be comfortable — that has been chewed to shreds.

Me: “Well, as you can see, the edges are chew-resistant. The middle part isn’t, though. It isn’t indestructible.”

Yelling Guy: “I don’t care! If it’s advertised as tough, my dogs shouldn’t be able to chew it to s***!”

Me: “I’m sorry, but since there was nothing wrong with the bed before your dogs chewed it up, I can’t refund it.”

He opens his gaping maw and howls about how horrible the customer service in this store is, which is enough to bring my manager running.

Manager: “What seems to be the problem here?”

Me: “He wants a refund on this bed.”

Manager: “What was wrong with it?”

Me: “His dogs chewed it up.”

Yelling Guy: “It’s supposed to be chew-resistant! Does this look chew-resistant to you?!”

Manager: “Sir, you have two choices: store credit or a straight exchange. And since you’ve been abusing my staff, this will only happen this one time. If you come back with the bed destroyed a second time, you will be turned away.”

Yelling Guy: “I’m a f****** customer!”

Manager: “At this point, you’re a hair’s breadth from getting banned. Accept what you’re getting or the police will be involved.”

Since my manager is busy with other hectic, demanding customers, he has to go off to put out another fire — something about a lady shrieking just as loudly but at the other end of the store. Today is a day for yelling, it seems.

Me: “Very well, we can give you store credit.”

Yelling Guy: “I don’t want store credit. I want the cold hard cash I spent on this d*** bed!”

Me: “Since you don’t have a receipt, I can’t give you a cash refund.”

Yelling Guy: “This is the worst f****** customer service I’ve ever received!”

By now, he has scared away all the little old ladies — a huge part of our primary demographic — in line behind him. They’ve probably run to cower in the canned cat food aisle, the aisle furthest away from the registers. I’m trying my best to be civil.

Me: “Look, if it were my decision, you wouldn’t be getting anything at all, so I suggest that you take your store credit before they decide to kick you out.”

Yelling Guy: “I don’t want anything in this store! I want my f****** cash back!”

Me: “And as the manager just told you, you can either have store credit or a straight exchange. Those are your only choices.”

He can tell he isn’t going to get anywhere, so the miserable jerk takes his shredded bed and stalks away to the back of the store. After a few of the sweet little old ladies return to have their birdseed and cat treats rung up, he returns to the end of the line with a brand-new version of the exact same bed in tow. By the time he gets to the front of the line, my sanity has partially returned.

Me: “All right, you want an exchange, then.”

He says nothing, just stands there looking like a child who threw a temper tantrum but didn’t end up getting the candy he wanted. After I exchange the bed and hand him the receipt, I remind him:

Me: “This is a one-time exchange. If your dogs chew this one to shreds, we will not be exchanging it or offering you store credit. It’s chew-resistant, not indestructible.”

He looked at me creepily and says:

Yelling Guy: “We’ll see about that.”

The manager had a meeting a few days later with the rest of the supervisors and managerial crew. The next time “Yelling Guy” showed up, he got the surprise of his life when a pair of uniformed cops showed up during his bellowing tirade and politely asked him to come outside for a little talk. I don’t know what was said, but he hasn’t shown up at our store since.