Unfiltered Story #202124

, , | Unfiltered | August 1, 2020

I work behind the front desk at a certain paint and sip franchise.

Last week, I was sitting behind the desk, as usual, with my business partner sitting at the table across the room. A woman walks in, with one of our flyers in hand, and looks like she’s going to ask my partner some questions about how our classes work. So far, so good.

But as soon as she steps inside, she moans, gasping for air, and says: “PINE SOL? Does it always smell like… *wheezing* Pine Sol in here?”

We are about to respond, when she does an about face and limps out.

(We mop the floor several times a week to keep things sanitary)

Will Be Complaining For A Calendar Year

, , , | Right | April 30, 2020

I work in the admissions and gift shop in an art gallery. There is a university in the same city that has a restoration going on, and last year they were selling calendars to raise money for said project. Ours is one of the locations carrying them. I get a phone call:

Me: “[Gallery], how may I help you?”

Customer: “I saw on CBC that [University] is selling calendars to restore the building. Are you selling them?”

Me: “Yes, we are.”

Customer: “I live in [Other Province]. Would you be able to ship one to me?”

We have never done this before, and I have only been working there for a few months.

Me: “Um… I’ll have to check with my supervisor. May I have your name and number and I’ll call you back?”

Customer: “I don’t give out my phone number. How about you give me her number and I’ll call her?”

Me: “Okay, no problem!”

I give her the number, and after we hang up, I give my supervisor a heads-up about the call. Fast forward a few weeks; the following has taken place.

We do agree to send the calendar, but the payment has to be processed from my station upstairs. As we can’t call the customer to have her give us the credit card number in real time, she instead tells it to my supervisor, who writes it down, and then brings it up the next day to have it done. The card number is declined. We have no way of calling the customer, so we decide to wait it out. She eventually calls back.

Customer: “I ordered a [University] calendar some time ago. When should I be expecting it to arrive?”

Me: “Well, unfortunately, we couldn’t finish processing the payment as your card number was declined, and as we had no way of contacting you, we had no way of rectifying this.”

Customer: “You had my address! You could have sent me a letter!”

She is now clearly upset.

Customer: “This is the problem with [My Province]! You’re always dropping the ball when it comes to business! My family was from there and can be traced back!”

She went on for a bit about how it was all our fault and we should have sent her a letter, because, of course, WE were the ones dropping the ball. She was perfectly ready to give us her credit card number but not her phone number when nearly the whole world runs on phone lines and the Internet. But no, WE should have sent HER a letter.

I was eventually able to end the call with an apology and a “hope you have a nice day.” Once my supervisor came out of a meeting she was in, I told her what had happened, and both she and another office staffer agreed that the customer was probably trying to get a free calendar.

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Doesn’t Quite Get The Prints-iple

, , , , | Right | March 22, 2019

(I’m busy working on a painting in the back of my art gallery when an older woman comes in. My painting area is obvious, in full view of the front, so anyone coming in can see what’s going on between the two extremely wide aisles. The woman is somewhat shabbily dressed, but I have no judgments because I’ve previously sold pieces to people in all kinds of clothes, clean or dirty. She’s looking at the paintings on the walls and after giving her a while to look around, as is customary, I walk towards the front to ask if she has any questions or needs help with anything. The woman does not look at me once during the following conversation. Zero eye contact.)

Me: “Welcome to [Name] gallery. Is there anything I can help with?”

Customer: “Not really, but these are very nice prints.”

Me: “Well, actually they’re original paintings, not prints. I do have a couple of print bins at the end of the middle aisle if you are looking for a print.”

Customer: “Well, they look like prints to me. I should know.”

Me: “No, they’re original paintings, all done with brush and paint.”

Customer: “Right.” *smiles sweetly* “Well, you don’t really know. You’re just an employee, after all.”

Me: “Actually, ma’am, I know for a fact because I own the gallery and those are my paintings you’re looking at.”

Customer: “Well, how would I know if they’re not reproductions and you’re just trying to rip people off?”

Me: *trying to be patient and educate her* “For one thing, if you look closely, there are built-up areas of paint in different spots. As well, I can show you the back of the painting if you’d like, so you can see where the paint is on the sides of the canvas and some is actually on the back as well. I only sell prints on paper, not canvas. My originals are always in frames. I never frame the prints, they’re always in the bins so it’s easy to flip through them.”

Customer: “Oh, only originals are in the frames. Okay.”

Me: “That’s right, but if you’re looking for prints, the print bins are at the end, just down there.”

Customer: “Hmm, no, I don’t want any prints. I only buy originals.”

(I watch her for a couple of seconds more and then go back and keep working on the painting, but keep an eye on her. She never once goes to the bins to look at any of the prints or even glances my way while I’m obviously painting an original. As she’s leaving:)

Customer: “Well, thanks for the information. I really do like the prints you have up.”

Me: “… ”


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Art Always Gets A Pass

, , , , | Hopeless | September 4, 2017

(It is about seven pm and I have just walked into a museum in NYC that has my favorite painting in it. I did not know this previously, and found out after spending the day with my parents at another museum. We are tired, weary, and a tad short on funds. I approach the ticket desk to see how much it will be for one student and two seniors to enter.)

Employee: “Senior tickets are $17 each and students are $12.”

Me: *sullenly turns to my parents, who are sitting down*

Mom: “You go, we will sit here.”

Me: *turns to employee* “One student, please.”

Employee: *accepts my payment and looks thoughtful* “You know, I get free passes that I don’t use. Why don’t you all go?” *hands me three tickets*

Me: *tearfully and excitedly* “Thank you so much!”

(This was about five years ago, but I’ve never forgotten the act of kindness. I was able to see that painting with my family and take a photo with it. We really enjoyed the museum, all thanks to a kind employee!)


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Found It A-Moo-sing

| Friendly | March 17, 2016

(We decide to go on a family outing to an art gallery a four hour drive away because of an art exhibition that’ll only be showing for a couple more days. Unfortunately, this also means that all of us are extremely tired. My mother wants photos of all the artwork and is busy instructing me on which ones to take. The artwork all consists of fairly standard things like fields, trees… and cows.)

Mother: “Take a photo of that one, sweetheart… and all of those together! And oh… oh…”

(Suddenly, my mother points to another painting, which an old lady just so happens to be standing beside.)

Mother: “That cow, there!”

(The lady turned around, alarmed, realised what had just transpired, and shared a laugh with me. My mother, oblivious as ever, had moved on to another painting, none the wiser.)

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