No Returns, Period

| UK | At The Checkout, Health & Body

(Our store has a policy that if an item of lingerie has tags and a receipt, and is in resaleable condition, we will refund it if it is not reduced by 50% or more.)

Customer: “Can I have a refund on this, please?” *puts bag on counter*

Me: “Okay, is it lingerie?”

Customer: *snorts* “Of course it is.”

(I tip out the bag. It contains a single pair of briefs that match a bra we also sell.)

Me: “So, you want to return these briefs? Do you have the receipt?”

Customer: *digs through her purse* “I have it in here somewhere.”

Me: “Um, there’s a… mark… on the inside of these briefs. I don’t think I can return them even with a receipt.”

(Note: There is a large, very obvious blood stain on the inside of the briefs. I cannot return an item in this condition unless it is seriously faulty. I am already feeling concerned that I have handled the item before knowing about the blood stain.)

Customer: “Why not?! They don’t fit! When I bought them, the girl said I could return them with the tags and receipt!”

Me: “I’m sorry, we can only return items in a resaleable condition and these aren’t so.”

Customer: “She said I could return them with tags and a receipt! I have both, so you have to give me a refund!”

Me: “I’m sorry, but there’s a blood stain on these. We can only return items that are faulty or in a resaleable condition. I’m familiar with all our products and I know these aren’t faulty. Because of the stain, we can’t resell them so I can’t process a return either. I’m really sorry.”

Customer: “But she said I could return them with a receipt and tags! I want to speak to a manager!”

Me: “I will get a manager, but it won’t change anything.”

(I go to get our department manager.)

Manager: “I’m sorry, but you can only return items in a resaleable condition. Even if you wanted an exchange, which you don’t, these have a blood stain so I can’t allow you to return them.”

Customer: “BUT THE GIRL SAID I COULD RETURN THEM WITH TAGS AND A RECEIPT, WHICH I HAVE!”

Manager: “If you wanted to return them, you should have tried them on over another pair of pants so they wouldn’t become stained with blood. You have put my staff at risk by trying to return them in this condition, and I am not prepared to even offer you an exchange given the condition you have presented this item in. In the future, please try on briefs when you are not at ‘that time of the month’ and there won’t be a problem.”

Customer: *gives manager a mortified look and scuttles out*

Me: *to my manager* “Thank you!”

Manager: “Go wash your hands. I’m sorry you had to deal with that!”

(I washed my hands about ten times until I felt like I’d taken a full layer of skin off!)

A Good Ol’ Fashioned A** Whoopin’, Part 2

| Turin, Italy | Awesome Customers, Top, Wild & Unruly

(I’m a customer at a local restaurant. It’s 7:30 pm, so most of the customers haven’t arrived yet and the place is pretty quiet. All of a sudden, a middle-aged customer starts shouting randomly and making obscene gestures to people. A waitress tries to calm him down, but he just doesn’t listen. This goes on for a while, until the same waitress approaches an elderly couple with their dinner.)

Elderly Wife: “Thank you, dear. Is there any way to make that horrible man stop yelling?”

Waitress: “I am sorry, ma’am. He keeps ignoring us.”

Elderly Husband: “He’s just a little kid hoping for attention. Kick him out.”

Waitress: “I am terribly sorry, but it is our policy not to kick customers unless they are posing a threat to someone. We can not even touch him.”

Elderly Husband: “Well, that doesn’t apply to me, does it?”

(With that, the elderly husband stands up, reaches the middle-aged customer and grabs him by an ear. He then drags him on the floor and out of the restaurant, eventually kicking him in the butt. When he comes back to his table, he hands the waitress 40 euros.)

Elderly Husband: “For the glass he broke on his way out. Bad kids always need a good kick in the butt!”

Related:
A Good Ol’ Fashioned A** Whoopin’

Just Plain Nuts

| Panama City Beach, FL, USA | Food & Drink, Health & Body, Top

Customer: “So, does the Rocky Road have peanuts in it? I’m allergic to peanuts.”

Me: “I’m afraid it does, sir. I’d recommend the Cookie Dough; it’s very good.”

Customer: “No, no, I’ve had that before. Thanks for telling me about the Rocky Road though. Allergies, you know?”

Me: “Yes, sir, my friend is very allergic to peanuts, too.”

Customer: “You’re such a nice girl. All right, I think I’ll have vanilla with the peanut butter candy on top.”

Me: “Sir? Um… the candy has p—”

Customer: “Look, kiddo, you were a big help but gimme my darn ice cream, okay? I’m in a bit of a hurry!”

Me: “Sir, you just told me you had a peanut allergy. I can’t in good conscience give you that topping.”

Customer: “You’re a teenager. You don’t have a conscience! You’re probably waiting for your boyfriend to show up so you can have sex and do drugs!”

Me: *dumbstruck*

Other Customer: “Hey, jerkface, she’s trying to tell you that the candy has peanuts in it! For not having a conscience, she’s being pretty nice about keeping you out of the hospital!”

Customer: *leaves in a huff*

Other Customer: “I’m not allergic to peanuts or delusional. One Rocky Road!”

Retail Can Leave You Bor-g-ed Stiff

| Michigan, USA | Bizarre

(It’s towards the end of my work day, and I grab at the first item in a customer’s order right as she swipes her card.)

Me: “I’m sorry, your card did not read as I hadn’t scanned the first item yet.”

Customer: “NOOO!”

Me: *surprised* “Huh?”

Customer: “You have ROBOT-ITIS!”

Me: “Huh?”

Customer: “You said that like you say it a million times a day! Put more feeling into it, Miss Robot!”

Your Bigotry Is Kilting Me

| Portland, OR, USA | Bigotry, Top

(I’m working at the entrance of a local heritage fair when a white pickup truck pulls up. The driver, a large middle-aged man, gets out and stomps towards my desk.)

Customer: *slams his hands on the table* “What the f*** do you Mexicans think you’re doing?”

Me: *confused* “Sir, we—”

Customer: “Look, I don’t want you d*** w******* here in the first place. I want you all back over the border where you belong!”

Me: “Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. You’re being very offensive, and this is—”

Customer: “But if you’re going to come to my godd*** country, you’re going to act like real Americans and not fly those f***ing Mexican flags and speak that s***-eating language, and you aren’t gonna celebrate being a bunch of f***ing foreigners!”

Me: “Security to entrance!”

Customer: *jumps back into his car and starts driving off* “Go back to Mexico!”

(The racist driver never returned. The heritage event in question, by the way, was the Scottish Highland Games.)

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