Well, Tough Sheet

| Cambridge, MN, USA | Right | January 18, 2016

(I am working at the customer service desk when I see an older couple walking in carrying a large trash bag. When they get up to my desk, the first thing the woman pulls out is a gallon-size ziplock bag filled with lint.)

Customer: “We bought these flannel sheets the other day and look at all the lint that collected in the lint trap when I washed them!” *motioning to the bag of lint*

Me: *trying to think fast, as I do not clean out the lint trap on my dryer as often as I should* “Okay, is there something wrong with the sheets?”

Customer: “They shed too much. For [price] I would expect better. I want a refund.”

Me: *not trying to sound too know it all, or trying to avoid the refund, I say…* “These sheets are actually known for giving off a lot of lint on the first wash, but are great sheets after that. I am happy to refund your money, but perhaps you would like to give them a try?”

Customer: “This amount of lint could start our house on fire! NO! I do not want to try them. I want my money back!”

(I processed their return, putting the money back onto their store credit card. I later noticed them purchasing at the registers the same exact set of sheets in a different color, and I wondered how long until they brought me a new bag of lint.)

Wish You Could Screen These Customers

| Australia | Right | January 18, 2016

(Our store has a large screen relaying live footage from the CCTV cameras. Every so often, customers who are easily entertained go crazy about ‘seeing themselves on TV’ and start dancing in front of it, or taking pictures, or whatever. We had just served this trio of guys when they noticed the screen and one started dancing. The next moment I looked at him he had his pants down to his knees and was doing what you could only describe as “windmilling,” while thrusting towards my horrified looking coworker.)

Me: “It’s not going to look any larger on the big screen…”

Scratch That

| Right | January 18, 2016

Never Forgets His Humanity

Wales, UK | Right | January 18, 2016

(I work in the environment office for a local government authority. We take calls from the public on all manner of things, from bin collections to highways maintenance. I get a call from an elderly gentleman.)

Me: “Bore da, good morning, [Council].”

Caller: “Good morning. Please can you tell me the clinical waste collection day?”

Me: “Certainly, sir. May I take your postcode?”

Caller: “I am frightfully sorry, but I’m ashamed to say I don’t know it.”

Me: “No problem, plenty don’t! Could I take your first line of your address?”

Caller: “I’m sorry, I don’t remember it. I know what it is. But I can’t remember how to tell you.”

Me: “All right then, how about your surname? If it’s uncommon I could look you up from that?”

Caller: “I’m ever so sorry. I appear to have forgotten my name. That’s quite absurd, isn’t it?”

Me: “Not to worry, I can see a phone number on my screen, would you mind if I traced it for you?”

Caller: “By all means go ahead. I am so glad you’re not cross.”

Me: *a bit watery eyed* “No, sir, I am not cross. You’re the politest person I’ve spoken to all day.”

(I trace his call and manage to tell him when his clinical waste gets collected, as well as let him know what day of the week today is – since he couldn’t recall that either. He calls us on a regular basis and the whole office knows his name just by his voice. We are of the opinion that he must have dementia, but he remains the most well-mannered and polite man despite his obvious confusion. Not a common trait I have found amongst dementia patients. I would have loved to have known him when he was still ‘all there.’)

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A-Salted By The Odd Request

| NY, USA | Right | January 16, 2016

(After getting his coffee and some food, a customer approaches the counter.)

Customer: “Do you have any salt?”

Me: *checking to see if I heard him correctly* “Salt?”

Customer: *enunciating every syllable like I’m an idiot* “Sodium chloride, do you have it?”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but we don’t.”

Customer: “F***ing h***!”

(He then proceeds to ask two of my coworkers the same question, receiving the same response and swearing at them as well. Fortunately he didn’t start anything but I informed the manager we need to buy some, if only to spread it outside the door and keep him away.)

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