Compliments With Unexpected Bite

, , , | | Right | July 22, 2019

(I’m working behind the front counter in a popular fast food restaurant when I see a customer come in. I smile at him as he’s getting ready to order.)

Old Man: “You have a nice smile.”

Me: *not expecting a compliment* “Um, thanks?”

Old Man: “You have big teeth.”

Using Some Scottish Tender Language

, , , , | | Right | July 21, 2019

(The customer is over six feet tall, Glaswegian, in his mid-50s, and looks ex-military. I am a fifteen-year-old girl, only 5’2”, working as a volunteer at a charity shop.)

Me: “That’ll be £24, please.”

Customer: *hands over a £50 Scottish note*

(I know exactly what’s coming.)

Me: “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I can’t accept that.”

(At this point, I’d like to reiterate that I’m a volunteer shop assistant. I’m not being paid.)

Customer: “I beg your pardon?”

Me: “I said I’m really sorry, but I’m not allowed to accept that.”

Customer: “What d’you mean you’re—“ *he puts on an insulting Cockney, “little girl” voice, as if he’s imitating me* “—’not allowed to f****** accept that’?”

Me: *calmly* “I mean that I can’t accept that note. I’m really sorry, but my manag—“

Customer: “Oh, your manager says so?! You’re f****** kidding me! This is f****** legal currency! I cannae believe you English f***s will not let me pay for my own f****** clothes! This is a f****** disgrace!”

(He’s essentially shouting, and I’m in that space between being really angry and being close to tears.)

Me: “Sir, I’m really sor—“

Customer: “’SIR’?! Oh, you’re calling me ‘SIR’, now? How f****** dare you?! You think tryna plaster f****** manners over this is going to make it okay?! Take it!”

(He slams the money on the counter.)

Me: “Let me just get my manager…”

(I grab the phone behind me to call my manager down. My manager is a sweet, lady in her late 50s who loves the world but does not take attitude. She can hear that I’m upset, so when she comes downstairs she’s already fuming.)

Manager: “What’s the problem here?”

Customer: “I’ll tell you the f****** problem. This little b**** won’t let me pay for my f****** clothes.”

Manager: *visibly balks at the insult and turns to me* “Why not, love?”

Me: *terrified, points to the note on the counter*

Manager: *passes it back to him* “We accept neither £50 notes nor Scottish tender; this is both. You can pay by card if you don’t have other money.”

Customer: “This is f****** unacceptable!”

Manager: “You can pay by card or you can leave.”

Customer: “I’m going to be ringing your head office; this is a f****** disgrace!”

Manager: “And I will be ringing the police if you don’t leave right now. You’re harassing my staff. Get out.”

(The customer pushed the clothes off the counter, called me a b**** one last time, and stomped out. My manager bought me a strong cup of tea and a plate of biscuits, and gave me a hug.)

A Different Kind Of Gum Disease

, , , , , | | Right | July 21, 2019

(The store I work at has a suggestive-selling program. The item changes every month, but it’s usually certain candy bars or gum. Whenever we are selling gum, the following exchange takes place at least once a day, per cashier:)

Customer: “Can I get three packs of [cigarettes]?”

Cashier: “Sure! Would you like to add a pack of [gum] for 99 cents?”

Customer: “No! Gum is so bad for you!”

Where No Blue Potato Has Gone Before…

, , , , , , , | | Right | July 21, 2019

(I am telling a few of my coworkers that the customers do not listen to us until after they are done speaking. I tell them we could say the most ludicrous things, and they would not even bat an eye.)

Me: “I could tell them my name was Blue Potato, and it would not matter.”

Coworker: “No way! You can’t do that!”

(My phone rings just then, and I smile and look my coworker in the eye.)

Me: “Thank you for calling [Location]. My name is Blue Potato. How can I help you?”

Customer: “Well, I need to—“ *call proceeds normally and I smirk at my coworker*

(After the call:)

Coworker: “I can’t believe you did that! That was a one-time thing, though.”

(To prove my point, I introduce myself as characters from various fandoms — everything from Star Trek, Firefly, and various cartoons. I’m having such fun with it that I start keeping a notebook page of it. No one, and I repeat no one is batting an eye at all the strange names. Not even Princess Leia or Princess Peach, even though I am a man with a fairly deep voice. I’m having fun with it and decide to do the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Again, no reactions. I get another call, and with gusto, I introduce myself.)

Me: “Thank you for calling [Location]. My name is Shredder. How can I help you today?”

(A very sweet-sounding, grandma-type voice responds.)

Customer: “Well, Shredder, I have a problem I was hoping you could help with.”

(I got a laugh out of it with my coworkers afterward, not only about how long I was able to keep going with the joke, but the fact that the one who did catch me was not caught off guard at all by my name. We nicknamed her “Cool Granny.”)

More Than 3.6 Roentgens On The Crazometer

, , , , , | | Right | July 20, 2019

(A customer approaches me as I work the customer service desk.)

Customer: “Do you carry any more [Store Brand] yogurt in the package of twelve little cups?”

Me: “I don’t believe so, but we do have tubs of [Store Brand] yogurt, and plenty of other brands have yogurt in the little cups, as well.”

Customer: “No, I read the labels. That’s all sugar candy. But have you heard about Chernobyl?”

(The question is so out of left field it takes me a moment to realize he actually said it.)

Me: “Yes?”

Customer: “And you know that it was a huge nuclear meltdown in Russia?”

Me: “Yeah…”

Customer: “Well, while the US government was spreading propaganda about them killing their citizens, the Russian government did a top-secret study to find ways to reverse radiation sickness.”

(I’m screaming internally, trying to figure out what this guy’s game is.)

Me: “Okay…”

Customer: “And they found a probiotic bacteria in Bulgaria and they called it bulgaricus. Now, when they gave this to the people who were exposed, it was like the divine hand of God coming down from the heavens and healing them. Do you understand?”

Me: “Sure.”

Customer: “And bulgaricus is only found in certain brands of yogurt, and [Store Brand] was the only one I’ve found!”

(I’m still very much thrown by this customer’s passion about the healing powers of yogurt, but I’m thankful that the conversation has turned back towards relevance.)

Me: “Well, as I mentioned before, we do still carry [Store Brand] yogurt in the large tubs. Really the only difference is the serving size. There’s also [Other Large Brand], which is pretty famous for being probiotic yogurt.”

Customer: “No, I already checked them, and they just have acidolphus! Everything has acidolphus, but it’s not bulgaricus! And they’re all sugar-candy! It was just your brand in the small cups!”

(He’s starting to get agitated, and people in the line that’s formed behind him appear just as concerned as I am, so now I’m just trying to end this.)

Me: “Okay. Well, I can’t promise anything, but when I get a chance today I’ll ask my manager if any of our other locations still carry our yogurt in the smaller size. And if it’s still in our system, we might be able to order some in for you special.”

Customer: “All right, but if it’s not bulgaricus then it’s just sugar-candy and I won’t have it!”

(The customer left after that. I relayed the story to my manager afterward, who responded with an expression of confusion and fear to match my own. Still, we called the other locations and found a store that still carried that size, so hopefully, we’ll be able to make him their problem. But what’s been bugging ever since is whether this guy thought he would need to be able to cure radiation sickness in the near future, or if he needed to cure it right now?)

Page 2/5,03612345...Last