A Bit Light On Being Polite

| Yonkers, NY, USA | Right | June 18, 2013

(I’m buying an item that offers certain customization options, and I’ve requested that mine have quite a bit of work done. I’ve made a few mistakes explaining what I want, and each one means the employee has to start from the very beginning.)

Employee: “Okay, I think it’s finally right. Can you take a look and confirm that all this is what you want?”

(The employee shows me the screen.)

Me: “Yeah, yeah, whoops. Sorry, this is wrong.”

Employee: “I’m sorry, my mistake. Let me see if I can void that one item—”

(The terminal goes black.)

Employee: “MOTHERF—whoops! Sorry, shouldn’t have said that.”

Me: “I’m sorry that my order is causing so much trouble.”

Employee: “Dude, you have no freaking idea. I don’t care if your order takes an hour, you’re actually being patient. I’m going to do what it takes to make sure you get everything the way you want it.”

Me: “I hope being minimally polite isn’t something that stands out so much from the—”

(There’s a crash from the next checkout counter.)

Other Employee: “But, sir, I ran the card four times, and it got rejected each time—”

Customer: *holding an item and smashing it into the counter* “RUN THE F****** CARD! IT’S MINE!”

Other Employee: “I never said it wasn’t yours!”

Employee: “What was that about being polite?”

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Insulting Jitsu, And Then It Hits You

| CO, USA | Right | June 18, 2013

(I work near a campus which is currently in finals-week, so quite a few students come in early to get a pick-me-up before their exams. Five customers are in line; four regulars, followed by an impatient customer at the end. )

Impatient Customer: “Gods! Why can’t this b**** work the cash register faster? I’ve got some important things to do!”

Regular #1: “Calm down, buddy. She’s doing just fine.”

Regular #3: “Yeah. Like what you have to do is important to any of us.”

Regular #4: “Seriously. We’re all in a hurry here.”

Impatient Customer: “Yeah? Well, he’s not!”

(The impatient customer points at Regular #2.)

Impatient Customer: “I’m getting in front of him!”

(Regular #2 is very young, and looks like a college student at first glance. He also always comes in looking like he’s asleep, but gets in and out with no problem.)

Impatient Customer: “This dumb-a** probably stayed up all night cramming for his test! Stop leaving s*** until the last second dumb-a**!”

(The impatient customer starts forcing his way forward. As soon as he touches Regular #2, there is a blur of motion, and the impatient customer is flying towards a display. Another blur of motion occurs, and Regular #2 is standing in front of the display and the impatient customer is on the floor near the door instead.)

Regulars #1, #3 And #4: “What just happened?!”

Regular #2: “I didn’t want him crashing into the display and causing more work for this little lady here.”

Me: “[Regular #2’s name] has practiced martial arts since he was eight. He helps out at [local dojo I go to].”

Regular #2: *to the impatient customer* “Also, aren’t you the lead for [name] with [company name]?”

Impatient Customer: “How’d you know that?”

Regular #2: “Because I’m the developer for the product you’ve requested from [other company name]. I’m going to be so glad to tell your boss this product isn’t viable, because his lead is impossible to work with. I do hope you enjoy your wait in line, because I’m going to personally make your workday miserable.”

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Banshee & Noble

| Right | June 17, 2013

wtf-customer-letter

Are You Satisfied?

| Right | June 17, 2013

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Bottle, Bottle, On The Wall, Who Is The Dumbest Of Them All

| Huddersfield, England, UK | Right | June 17, 2013

(A customer half staggers inside.)

Customer: “Excuse me mate, where are ya’ beers?”

(I indicate to the left of the till where our alcohol aisle is. I suspect that he might already be intoxicated. I tell him where the alcohol section is, but keep a close eye on him. The customer wanders slowly up the aisle, inspecting our cans and bottles of cheap alcohol. He makes it all the way to the end before stopping. There, he proceeds to stand, facing into the corner, as if he is taking a leak. I get out from behind the till and approach him.)

Me: “Are you alright?”

(The customer jumps, startled, and turns to face me. His eyes are bloodshot, yet he doesn’t smell of alcohol.)

Customer: “Oh yeah! I’m glad you’re here. You see, I want to get these beers here.”

(He points to some beers that he can see on the top shelf in the corner. He paws, like a cat at the glass separating him from the beers.)

Customer: “I can’t get to ’em. So, I was wondering if you could just go in the back, go around, and get ’em for me?”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir. You want me to get… those beers?”

Customer: “Yeah! That’s the ones. So, like, if you could just… go around and get them.”

(I stare at him blankly for a couple of seconds, then decide to release the customer of his misery.)

Me: “Mate… that’s a mirror.”

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