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The customer is NOT always right!

Reasons Number One And Number Two Not To Work With People

, , , , , | Right | December 9, 2022

I’ve been working at a hotel for about two years. I learned to work all shifts, so there are nights that I work as an auditor (overnight shift). We’re also a hotel that receives distressed passengers from the local international airport, which is where some (not all by a long shot) of our most insane customers come from.

This happened to me on my audit shift, and I’m still wondering what is wrong with some people.

I sign in and run my reports. My shuttle driver is heading back with a few people who’ve been stranded due to the weather, so I set aside some rooms and wait.

Five people get off the shuttle. The first four are normal; they’re tired from waiting for a flight but for the most part pleasant and nice to deal with. The fifth is staggering back and forth and muttering to herself. Everyone in the lobby is trying to stay as far away from her as humanly possible, which is my clue that this last person is going to be… “fun.”

I check in the fourth guest and greet the fifth.

Me: “Hello, how may I help you?”

She stands there for about a minute with her mouth open and walks closer to the front desk, where I am barraged by the smell of alcohol. She stands there for another minute staring at me before she finally slurs out:

Guest: “I need a room. G**d***ed airport sent me here.”

Me: “Okay, ma’am, did they give you a letter for a discounted rate?”

A little FYI: unless it’s a mechanical failure or a staffing problem, the airlines will NEVER give out a hotel voucher; they’ll give you a distressed rate that’s approximately 20 to 30% cheaper than the regular rate.

Guest: *Still staring at me* “Yes.”

Me: “I need that letter, an ID, and a credit card for check-in.”

Guest: “What? Why d’you need that for?”

Me: “Well, this letter gives you a discounted rate, so I need your credit card for the cost of the room and your ID to prove that it is your credit card.”

Guest: “Fine!”

She starts rummaging through her ginormous purse, throwing all kinds of stuff all over the place.

She then stops mid-toss.

Guest: “I need to use the bathroom. Where’s the g**d***ed bathroom at?”

Me: “I can make you a key to use one of our bathrooms and give you directions to it.”

I make a key for it, point her down the hallway to where the two bathrooms are, and hand it to her.

Guest: “Gimme the key!”

The drunkard tries to swipe it out of my hand and misses twice before grabbing the key and staggering down the hall toward the bathroom.

While she’s out of the lobby, I pick up all of the crap that she pulled out of that cavernous bag of hers and pile it together so she can shove it back into her bag when she gets back. Five minutes pass before she comes back to the front office, and she’s swearing louder and louder as she’s walking toward me.

Guest: “There’s no g**d***ed bathroom down there! I gotta go, and there’s no bathroom down there, just two doors!”

Me: “Yes, ma’am, those doors are the entrance to the bathrooms. You use the key to open them.”

Guest: “I don’t have time for this! Gimme a room! I gotta go!”

Me: “Okay, I need your ID and credit card for check-in.”

Guest: “You’re not getting s*** until I go to the bathroom! Now gimme a room!”

Me: “Well then, ma’am, I suggest that you take the key that I made you and use one of the bathrooms down the hall because I can’t check you into a room without some sort of payment.”

Now, this is where it goes straight to crazy town.

She stands there for a couple of seconds, and then she unbuttons and takes down her pants and proceeds to evacuate both ends all over the lobby floor.

As she’s crouching there, I dial 911.

Thank whatever hotel deities are out there that the cops walk through that door as she is still relieving herself. They cuff her and walk her out the front door as she’s screaming.

Guest: “That stupid c*** has all my s***! She’s gonna steal my identity! She doesn’t even know where the f****** bathroom is!”

I called my maintenance guy to get the bio cleaners, filed a report with the police, and bagged the pile that I had put together.

The officer informed me that they did find her ID (which she was accusing me of stealing) and were going to put her in the drunk tank until she sobered up.

All I had to do then was help clean up the whole mess she had left. Fortunately, my maintenance guy helped, and I was able to run the audit without any more problems.

Behavior Like This Can Be Hard To Swallow

, , , , , | Right | December 9, 2022

I started work at a small bread outlet shop, and I just learned of the legend behind a very unusual sign hanging next to the hot dog buns.

A man somewhere in his early twenties entered, and he clearly had that “I’m acting like an idiot and that’s freaking hilarious” attitude from the get-go.

He kept asking inane, idiotic questions and badgering the staff until they answered him.

A few of note:

Young Man: “How do you know this is seven grain-bread? Did you count out exactly seven grains when you made it? If not, then it’s not seven-grain bread, it’s seven grains, plural. Your labels are wrong.”

Young Man: “Your donut holes obviously don’t fit in the donuts. This is false advertising!”

Young Man: “Is the price tag the actual price?”

Young Man: “All of these are near their date. Don’t you have anything fresher?”

Eventually, the manager was called on account of this jerk harassing everyone, demanding their attention, and refusing to stop and let them get on with work.

The young man sauntered up to the manager, grabbed a random bag of hot dog buns off the shelf, and shoved them in the manager’s face.

Young Man: “If I choke on this, can I sue you?”

Now the manager was, and still is, the kind of person who doesn’t put up with nonsense. He let the young man have it with both barrels.

Manager: “If you choke to death on a hot dog, I’m amazed you lived past the age of five and the planet doesn’t need anyone as stupid as you living on it. My employees have work to do, and it’s time for you to leave.”

Young Man: “Hey, I’m just asking questions! Customer service—”

Manager: *Cutting him off* “—does not extend to letting you be a moron in my store. Out. NO! OUT! RIGHT NOW!”

The manager basically chased the young man out of the building and told him that if he showed up and started harassing employees with his stupidity again, a broom would be applied where nobody wants a broom to be lodged.

Now, there’s a sign hanging next to our hot dog buns: “If you choke to death on a hot dog, that is a Darwin Award, and management is not responsible.”

He Wasn’t Banking On Them Being The Real Deal

, , , , , | Right | December 9, 2022

I work for a banking call center in the fraud department. Most of our calls are inbound, but on rare occasions, we have outbound calls, as well. These are the absolute worst, especially if the customer has to be authenticated to the account.

One day, I get that dreaded call. The automated line informs me that it’s an outbound call and that I must authenticate the customer. When I pull the information up, the phone number that was called was put on the account only days before, making this a “High Risk” call. If I don’t verify him to the account — What if the number was put in incorrectly and I’m calling the wrong person? — I can probably be fired.

Me: “Thank you for holding for [Bank] Debit Card Fraud Services. This call may be recorded or monitored for quality assurance purposes. My name is [My Name], and to begin, who have I reached today?”

Customer: “[Customer].”

This is the name on the account, but that’s just the first step. I have to ask one more question, and I’m frantically trying to find the most innocent thing I can.

Me: “Thank you, Mr. [Customer]. Now, before I can begin, I do have to verify that I have contacted the correct cardholder, and to do that, I’ll have to ask a quick security-related question. Would you consent to be authenticated to the account? If you don’t want to do so, please let me know, and then hang up and contact the number on the back of your debit card to be assured that you’re speaking to a [Bank] employee.”

Customer: “No, that’s fine.”

Me: “Very well, Mr. [Customer], thank you. Would you be able to confirm for me the date of the last deposit into your account?”

This is a very low-risk question, and unless the employee asks for that information, knowing it won’t get someone into your account, usually. All I want is either a number or a day of the week.

Customer: “Actually, let me ask you something. Is your mother proud of you, knowing you’re too r******d to suck c**k for a living? That you have to resort to stealing money from hard-working people?”

Me: “Sir, failure to authenticate at this stage will result in a block being placed on your card, and you’ll have to head into your nearest banking location to have it undone. Will you be able to authenticate to the account?”

Customer: “Here, why don’t you just suck my d**k sideways? Your mouth’s clearly big enough.”

Me: “Very well, sir. As you are refusing to authenticate, your card has a hold on it now. Please step into your nearest banking location and have the associate call us to have it removed. Thank you for banking with [Bank].”


About four hours later, an inbound call comes in. I pull up the information, and the first thing that pops up is a note on the account stating, “DO NOT SERVICE OVER PHONE. CUSTOMER BECAME VERBALLY ABUSIVE AND REFUSED TO AUTHENTICATE. SEND TO BANK.” I check the ID number that placed the hold and realize that it was MY number.

The same man has called in, and as luck would have it, I am the next available agent able to speak with him. I answer my phone with the biggest smile on my face and with my most chipper customer service voice.

Me: “Thank you for calling [Bank] Debit Card Fraud Services! This call may be recorded or monitored for quality assurance purposes! My name is [My Name], and who do I have the pleasure of speaking with today?”

There’s a brief silence on the other end of the phone.

Customer: “Oh… I, uh… I guess you are with the bank… aren’t you?”

Me: “You are correct, sir, I am a [Bank] Fraud Analyst. How may I assist you today?”

Customer: *Pauses* “You’re not going to unblock my card now, are you?”

Me: “Well, sir, according to the notes left on the account, it seems you became verbally combative with the previous associate and, as such, your card has been blocked for all transactions. To have this block removed, you’ll have to go to the nearest [Bank] location and have the associate there call us.”

Customer: “But… but I live in [State].”

Me: “Okay then, it looks like your nearest banking location will be in Tallahassee, Florida, sir. Thank you for choosing [Bank] and have a wonderful rest of your night.”

Worst. Game Show. Ever.

, , , | Right | December 9, 2022

I had the pleasure of speaking to a guy who would make an obnoxious buzzer noise every time I suggested anything he didn’t like, instead of saying so like a human being.

Me: “So, how about we make the background light blue?”

Client: “EEEEHH.”

Me: “Um, all right. You seemed to like green?”

Client: “EEEHHH.”

Me: “…”

Luckily, the project fell through.

With A Mom Like That, We’d Be Anxious, Too

, , | Right | CREDIT: throughalfanoir | December 9, 2022

I started my first retail job this week. I have worked other customer-facing jobs before, but this is the first one that’s explicitly retail. It took until my second shift to meet my first unreasonable customer — longer than I expected, to be honest.

I work at a clothing retailer, and I was manning the fitting rooms. We have a strict one-person-per-dressing-room policy (for loss prevention reasons), which we have clear signs about at the entrance.

A woman comes up with her teenage daughter. I greet them, ask how many items they have, grab a number, and lead them to the dressing room. The girl goes in and her mother attempts to follow.

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but only one person can be in the fitting rooms at a time. You can take a seat here while your daughter tries on her clothes.”

Woman: “But I want to go in.”

Me: *Pointing to the sign* “I’m sorry, but this is the store policy.”

Woman: “But my daughter has anxiety. It is documented.”

Me: “It is beyond my power to make exceptions to this. However, I can radio my manager, and you are welcome to talk to them about this issue.”

Woman: “This is discriminative against mentally ill people, and I hope you know that!”

I still can’t do much, so I just tell her the same about it not being in my power to do anything about something that’s store policy. The daughter has already closed the door and I have other customers waiting for me, so I leave it at that.

A few minutes later, they leave, the daughter puts the clothes on the rail, and the mother comes up to me.

Woman: “Just so you know, this is very discriminative against the mentally ill. I expected better from this store.”

Me: “As I said previously, it is the store policy. However, you are more than welcome to discuss this with a manager.”

Woman: *Stepping well into my personal space* “NO, I don’t want that. I want you to feel bad about this.”

Me: “All right, have a great day.”