Service With Room To Improve

| USA | Right | September 22, 2015

(I work at a hotel in an affluent city. Property around here goes for millions of dollars.)

Me: “Can I help you?”

Customer: “Yeah, I want a room.”

Me: “Okay, the rate is [rate].”

Customer: *eyes bug out* “What?! How do you justify that?!”

Me: “Um… I don’t know. The sales department sets the prices, not me.”

Customer: “They must be on crack! It’s four walls! And a bed!”

Me: “Right… So, do you want to rent the room?”

Customer: *starts cursing and swearing* “No, I don’t want the room! I just want to know how you can charge that price!”

Me: “Well, the room comes with free internet, and free breakfast… and free gym.”

Customer: *sneeringly* “F*** the breakfast! Take that room and shove it up your a**! And tell that to the ‘sales’ department, too!” *struts off*

Coworker: “Man, what an idiot. He needs some anger management classes.”

Me: *to Coworker* “He’s going to check the hotel next door and across from us, and be back in fifteen minutes.”

Coworker: “No way!”

(I was right!)

“Talk To My Manager”

| Right | September 22, 2015

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The Cone Of Despair

| Savannah, GA, USA | Right | September 22, 2015

(One of the pumps are blocked off by two orange cones.)

Customer: “Is pump five working?”

Me: “No, sir, it has two cones on it.”

Customer: “Yes, I know but is it working.”

Me: “No, sir. It is out of order hence the cones.”

Customer: “Oh, well, I wasn’t sure because there wasn’t a sign.”

Faker Moaning About Faking

| Devon, England, UK | Right | September 22, 2015

(I use a wheelchair. The shop has customer wheelchairs marked very clearly with the name of the centre the shop is in. I’m supposed to be working on tills, but due to being short staffed, I’m helping out with stacking the shelves.)

Customer: “Excuse me?”

Me: “Yes?”

Customer: “I was wondering if I could use that wheelchair?”

(I assume she meant a wheelchair, rather than the one I’m currently sitting in.)

Me: “Of course. If you head over to the door, the security guy there can get one for you.”

Customer: “You want me to walk over?”

Me: “I’ll go and ask him. Feel free to take a seat, if it’s more comfortable for you.”

Customer: “No, it’s fine, thanks. I guess I’ll go ask myself. I mean, if I have to use one of those ugly things.”

Me: “Yeah, they’re not the best are they? But it’s really no trouble for me to go over there, if you want me to.”

(The customer shakes her head, and sits on one of the stacking stools, Maybe ten minutes later, she’s still sitting there, and all I’ve got left to shelve are things that are usually way above my head. Since I’m having a pretty good day, I figure what the hell, and start standing for short periods of time so shelve the lighter stuff, something I’m more than capable of doing.)

Customer: “How dare you!”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Customer: “How dare you sit around in that chair all day, and then start standing up with boxes just like anyone else? People like you make my life so much harder, you know that?”

Me: “I’m sorry, I don’t understand what—”

Customer: “I have an invisible disability. People like you who go around faking for sympathy and making everyone think I’m a faker too.”

Me: “I have an invisible disability. Hence the chair.”

Customer: “Well, then you shouldn’t be standing up, should you?”

Me: “I’m sorry, but… you walked into the shop.”

Customer: “I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”

Me: “You don’t?”

Customer: “I want to speak to your manager.”

(I radioed my manager over. She took a while to get there, so I carried on shelving. While I’m standing up, and my back is turned, the customer took my wheelchair and vanished off into the shop. At a loss for what to do, I took the stool she vacated and waited for my manager to show up, while the security guy at the door – visible from my aisle – took off after the woman. I sat there for almost an hour until security finally tracked the woman down in another shop in the centre. They tried for a while to get her to give my chair back, all while she accused them of discrimination, saying they think she’s an idiot who can’t tell the difference between a centre chair and mine because she’s disabled. Eventually, once security had radioed police, she gave it back. She was still sitting on the floor, yelling about fakers ruining her life, when the police arrived.)

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Flea To The Devil

| SC, USA | Right | September 22, 2015

(I am an assistant manager of an extremely popular supermarket. A middle-aged woman stops me as I pass the pet department.)

Customer: “Hey! You! I need some help.”

Me: “Sure thing, ma’am. I’m off the clock right now but I’ll see what I can do.”

Customer: “Tell me if this will work on puppies.” *thrusts box of flea medicine at my chest*

Me: “Well, it depends on the weight and age of the puppies. What breed are they?”

Customer: “Oh, my god! I don’t know! Some mutt my daughter found! I made her put it in the shed and it had puppies!”

Me: “Okay, not a problem. How old are they?”

Customer: “Three days.”

Me: “Wait, come again?”

Customer: “Are you deaf?! I said three days!”

Me: “Ma’am, you can’t put flea medicine, especially medicine for a dog ten pounds or heavier, on a puppy that’s three days old.”

Customer: “And why the h*** not!? I don’t want them getting fleas. Then they’d be all over my shed!”

Me: “Wait, they don’t even have fleas?”

Customer: “NO! You’re such an idiot!” *grabs the box back from him* “They’re at my house and I’ll put whatever I want on them!”

Me: *somewhat frantically* “Ma’am, they’ll die.”

Customer: “GOOD! I want those f****** ugly dogs dead! Those mutt, mix-breed dogs are a sin and will go to hell! I have a purebred Yorkshire Terrier and can’t risk having fleas in MY shed! I’m calling corporate about you trying to tell me what to do!”

(She then grabbed a second box and stormed out of the aisle, shouting about “mix-breeds are the devil’s work.”)

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