Not Quite The Uniform Response

, , | Right | March 23, 2018

(In my community, a majority of the schools have uniforms with monograms. My company does monograms in-house. A man walks in with a bag.)

Me: “Good afternoon. How may I help you, sir?”

Customer: “Well, I got this shirt a little bit ago, and we washed it once and now there is a hole. Can I get a replacement?”

(I verify with my manager that it will be okay to go ahead and get another before checking the pre-monogrammed ones. There is one in the right size; however, it looks as if it has been returned and isn’t a super bright white. Using my judgement, I take a fresh white polo out of the package and go back to monogramming.)

Me: “Sir, it will be about 15 minutes. If you would like to have a seat, I’ll bring it out to you as soon as it’s finished.”

Customer: “Okay.”

(I am folding clothes about five minutes later when he comes up to me with the dingy-looking, pre-monogrammed one in his hands.)

Customer: “Can I just take this one?”

Me: “You could. I just figured I’d get you a brand new one, since you said you could wait.”

Customer: “Well, is there anything wrong with it?”

(I think for a moment.)

Me: “No, sir, you’d be good to go.”

Customer: *shoves it in his bag and rushes out*

(Normally, we probably would have sold it at 50% off, but if he wanted to pay full price, I was going to let him.)

Unfiltered Story #106354

, | Unfiltered | February 26, 2018

Many years ago, as a Canadian visiting family in Alabama, I was at a mall, with my Aunt, but we had separated for a bit for some personal shopping time. I was in line to pay, in a KMart or something, behind a white haired white woman, who was behind a younger African-American woman.
I was kinda in my own world until I noticed how hunched the African-American woman’s shoulders were as she steadfastly kept her back to us as she unloaded her cart. Then I noticed what the white woman in front of me was saying. It was awhile ago, so I can’t tell you exactly what it was, but hoo boy it was racist.
I plunked my shopping basket down where I was standing and stormed around to that white woman’s face and went off. I didn’t say anything specially coherent, just a string of abuse, punctuated with demands for her to leave. She tried to respond but I grew to a level, screaming pitch.
Security came up to break it up, but I didn’t stop. A manager appeared, but I didn’t stop. I wouldn’t stop until the horrible woman dropped her basket and stormed out of the store.
Security: Ma’am, you have to leave.
Me: One sec.
I turned to the African-American woman who was standing there tears down her face.
Me: (To the cashier) How much will her stuff cost?
Cashier: *Silence*
Security: Ma’am! You have to leave.
I could see that the total was about $20 and about half her stuff had been input.
Me: (to the Cashier) What do you think? Like fifty bucks?
Cashier: *Still Silence*
Security: Ma’am!
I pulled a $50 out of my bag (as a tourist, I had quite a bit of cash on me) and put it on the last of her items on the counter. Turning to the African-American woman I said: “The whole world isn’t like her.” and allowed myself to be escorted from the store.
When I found my Aunt, she angrily reminded me that there was a real chance I could have been shot for that – Canadians don’t think of that – and she made us leave the mall.

The Most Grinding Customer

, , , , | Right | February 19, 2018

(I work as a barista at a well-known coffee shop in the area. We sell not only specialty drinks but merchandise, as well, which is displayed in the cafe area for customers to pick up. One day an elderly Caucasian women walks into the store and comes up to the register. She seems like a very sweet lady.)

Me: “Hey, how can I help you today?”

Elderly Customer: “I would like to get [Product], please.”

(With all the noise of the machines behind me I misheard her. I thought she wanted a cup of brewed coffee.)

Me: “I am sorry, ma’am. We don’t have that roast available today. Would you like [Coffee]?”

Elderly Customer: “Oh, no. I don’t want a drink. I would like a pound of [Product].”

Me: *finally hearing what she said this time* “Oh, okay. The [Product] is behind you on the shelves.”

(The elderly woman turns around and looks at it and then stares at me for about 20 seconds. She then goes from staring at me to glaring at me.)

Me: “Is everything okay?”

Elderly Customer: “Well… Do you expect me to get it myself?”

Me: *a look of shock comes over my face* “Well, yes, ma’am. That is why the [Product] is displayed out in the lobby.”

(The woman furiously turns around and grabs the [Product] that she wants and slams it on the counter. By this point five people have showed up and are waiting in line.)

Me: “Would you like me to grind this [Product] for you?” *trying to keep a smile on my face*

Elderly Customer: *sarcastically* “No! I’m just going to stick the whole [Product] in my coffee maker and see what comes out! Of course I want you to grind it!” *under her breather* “Idiot.”

Me: “Now, there is no need for that, ma’am.”

(I grab the [Product] and scan it into the register and she swipes her card and takes her receipt.)

Me: “Now, what kind of filter do you use at home?”

Elderly Customer: “What? What does that have to do with anything?”

Me: “Well, in order for you to make your [Product] at home and not get the grounds in your cup, it needs to be ground to a certain coarseness. What kind of coffee filter do you use?”

Elderly Customer: “Why can’t you just grind the coffee and shut up?!”

(I am now fed up with this old b****, so I get my coworker from the back, making her aware of the situation.)

Coworker: “Ma’am, what kind of filter do you use? I would hate for you to take home a bad [Product].”

Elderly Customer: “Fine! I use a metal filter.”

(My coworker and I look at each other, as we have never dealt with grinding for a metal filter. Also, our [Product] grinder has settings on it, but half of them are faded beyond recognition. I try to look at them but can only make out a few.)

Coworker: “Do you know if that is similar to a coarse grind or a fine grind?”

Elderly Customer: “I don’t know! It’s just a standard [Coffee Maker] metal filter.”

(Having already been fed up with this customer, I open the bag and throw the [Product] in the grinder.)

Me: “Well, we have never had to grind for that before. Do you know if it is on the coarser side?”

Elderly Customer: “Why are you asking me these stupid questions?! This is your job. You are suppose to know this! Or are you two just dumb buffoons who forgot everything that they trained you on?!”

(Now I am mad, so I set the grind to the coarsest it can be and turn it on.)

Coworker: “Excuse me, ma’am, but that is not acceptable. We are trying to help you out here.”

Elderly Customer: *shouts* “How dare you speak to me that way?! I am leaving and going to the [Competitor] coffee shop. You can forget about getting my service again!”

Coworker: *sarcastically* “Aww, you will be sorely missed! Please don’t come back!”

(The elderly lady grabs her purse and starts walking towards the door.)

Coworker: *leans over counter and shouts* “Oh, and ma’am?”

(The elderly lady turns around. I think that my coworker is going to tell her to grab the [Product] that I have just ground, but she says this instead.)

Coworker: “Please, don’t let the door hit you on the way out. I really don’t want to clean your a** print off of it.”

(Everyone in the shop, having witnessed this scene, starts to laugh. The elderly lady turns back around and slams the door.)

Me: “Okay, I can take the next guest at the register.”

Other Customer: “Hey, I am sorry you had to had to deal with that.”

Me: “Thank you.” *I turn around and grab the $15 bag of [Product] and put it on the register* “Would you like a free bag of ground coffee? That lady just left it here. I don’t think she will be coming back for it and I would hate for it to go to waste.”

What A Diabeetus, Part 4

, , , , | Healthy | January 26, 2018

(I am sitting at my desk behind the nurses’ station when one of our new patients approaches me.)

Patient: “Can you do me a favor and check my lab work for me?”

Me: “I sure can, sir. Let me get you pulled up, here. What did you want me to look over?”

Patient: “Can you check to see if there’s any diabetes in my blood?”

Me: “I’m sorry?”

Patient: “Diabetes. In my blood.”

Me: “Did you mean your glucose level, sir?”

Patient: *clearly exasperated* “No, I mean if the doctor found any diabetes in my blood.”

Me: “Sir, that’s… that’s not how diabetes works.”

What A Diabeetus, Part 3
What A Diabeetus, Part 2
What A Diabeetus

It’s A Red Christmas

, , , , | Working | December 25, 2017

(This happens a little before Christmas. Upon opening that day, we have three back-to-back returns all within the first hour of being open, one of which is a large amount. Since all returns have a receipt and are well within the return period, we have to take them. A few minutes after finishing the third return, our store phone rings and my manager answers.)

Manager: “Thank you for calling [Store]; this is [Manager]. How may I help you?” *listens to the caller* “Yes, [District Manager]. I am aware that we are starting in the red. We had three returns back-to-back. Were we supposed to just say no? Yes, [District Manager]. Have a good day.” *hangs up*

Me: “She does know the returns aren’t our fault, right?”

Manager: “Like she gives a rat’s a** whose fault it is.”

Page 1/41234
Next »