One Size Fits All

, , | Right | February 20, 2013

(A man comes to the counter and places two dresses on the counter: one sized XS and one sized XXL.)

Me: “Are these dresses both for the same woman?”

Customer: “Yes.”

Me: “Oh, okay. These are both very different sizes, so they are not likely to fit the same person. What size does she usually take?”

Customer: “Um… I’m not sure.”

Manager: “Well, does she look more like me or more like her?”

(Note: my manager is quite small, and I am quite big.)

Customer: “Um… uh… I’m sure these will be fine.”

Me: “Sir, because the price is marked down on these dresses they will be Final Sale, so you will not be able to return them if they are not the right size. Are you sure we can’t help you?”

(The customer looks around furtively, then leans in close so that only my manager and I can hear what he is saying.)

Customer: “These dresses are for me, actually.”

(My manager looks at me, and I at her, and then she turns to the customer and speaks a very matter of fact voice.)

Manager: “Why don’t you go try them on, then?”

Customer: “Really? Would that be okay with you?”

Manager: “Of course! Let me get you started with a fitting room.”

(I spent the next hour bringing this man dresses to try on and he had a lovely time! He introduced himself to me and thanked us profusely for being so understanding and helpful. He left with four dresses, all of which fit him to a T, and he came back regularly after that.)

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Give The Beneficent The Benefit Of The Doubt

, , , , | Right | February 19, 2013

(It’s a few days before Valentine’s Day, so there are a lot of rush orders for flowers. One of our usual customers, Ben, is an elderly man who isn’t mentally healthy, but he’s a sweet man who doesn’t bother anyone. He’s decided to buy 100 roses and stand outside to hand them out to women, young and old alike.)

Female Customer #1: “I want your manager.”

Me: “Yes, ma’am…”

(I call for my manager, who arrives shortly.)

Manager: “What seems to be the problem, ma’am?”

Female Customer #1: “There’s a drunk outside accosting women. I want to know what kind of store lets drunkards stand around like that to bother ladies. He’s standing out there slurring and making sexual comments to everyone.”

(As she explains this, another female customer with her daughter has been standing nearby. After she finishes, the second female customer interjects.)

Female Customer #2: “I hope you don’t mean Ben.”

Female Customer #1: “Who the f*** asked you?”

Female Customer #2: *to my manager* “Ben isn’t doing anything at all. This lady here asked for two flowers and started hitting him with her purse when he only gave her one.”

Female Customer #1: “You f***ing liar! You’re just some godless w****!”

Manager: “Lady, if getting a d*** flower for Valentine’s Day pisses you off this much, I feel sorry for the poor b*****d who gets in a relationship with you. Get out of my store and don’t come back.”

(The manager brought Ben in, who was in tears and confused. However, he cheered up when he received some very nice comments from other customers as well as a free meal from my manager.)

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Holding The Line Against Bad Customers

, , , , | Right | February 18, 2013

(There are usually four to six employees behind the counter at the cell phone store, but today there is only one. She appears to be new and flustered, but is doing very well getting to everyone. I have been waiting for about 20 minutes before a woman in her late 20s and dressed in aerobics gear comes in. She immediately turns to a phone sales rep.)

Aerobics Woman: “Do I really needed to wait in the line?”

Employee: “I only really sell new phones, so I am afraid you will have to.”

Aerobics Woman: “OH. MY. GOD.”

(Five minutes go by, and the next customer is up. I’m about fourth in line now, and [Aerobics Woman] is sixth. She is grumbling and muttering things under her breath.)

Aerobics Woman: *shouting* “What is taking so long?! I don’t understand why I have to wait in this line.”

(Finally, it’s my turn. I’m up at the counter, and give the poor overwhelmed employee a warm smile.)

Me: “I’m so sorry you have to put up with this.”

(Relieved, the employee lets out a big sigh and her shoulders relax.)

Employee: “No, I’m sorry that it has been taking so long.”

Me: “No, it’s okay. I understa—”

Aerobics Woman: “Why does it have to take so long!”

(I decide I’ve been patient enough with [Aerobics Woman] and snap back.)

Me: “Are you five f***ing years old?!”

(As soon as I say this, everything in the store grinds to a halt. [Aerobics Woman] is looking at me wide-eyed, as I in turn am now giving her the ugliest glare I’ve ever managed.)

Me: “Are you seriously under the impression that your constant moaning is going to make anything you’re trying to do happen any faster? Do you have any idea how f***ing ridiculous you look right now? What the h*** is so d*** important that you feel that you have to b**** every five minutes for all to hear?”

Aerobics Woman: “I was on the phone to customer service, and they told me that in order to change my account password I needed to come into a store and show proof of ID!I got a new phone because I dropped the old one, and they told me I couldn’t switch it without my password, and I forgot it!”

Me: “Well, of course you’d have to bloody come in! I bet you have credit card info, address info, social security info, and all the rest on your bloody account. What if I called Customer Service, put on a lovely voice, and said I was you? What if I stole your phone, called the phone company, and said to them, ‘could you tell me what social security number you have for me, I want to make sure it’s the right one’? You should be thanking this poor woman here, all alone, having to put up with your childish whining, and trying to keep you from getting robbed. Now, shut up, and just wait your turn.”

(I turn back to the employee, and wink. On the way out of the store, another employee intercepts me on the way out.)

Other Employee: “I was wondering if I could talk to you. Customer Service is our number one priority here, and policy prevents us from being able to defend ourselves in a situation like that. On behalf of everyone here, I wanted to see if I could have your name, and give you next month’s service for free.”

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Suited To The Role

, , , , , , , , | Right | February 18, 2013

(I work the floor at an independently-owned menswear store. The owner, my boss, spends a lot of time at the shop, and tries to keep prices as low as possible to help our city’s large homeless population get good job interview clothes. A clearly homeless man is wandering around the store. The other patrons are giving him looks.)

Customer: “Excuse me, sir?”

Me: “Yes, ma’am?”

Customer: “I think you may want to call security. That… bum over there, he keeps feeling the suits and muttering to himself. I’m just sure he’s planning to steal one.”

Me: “Well, ma’am, I think that’s quite unlikely.”

Customer: “Oh, come on, you know how they are! I mean, I’d keep an eye on him even if he wasn’t homeless!”

(The homeless man in question happens to be Hispanic.)

Me: “We don’t discriminate here, ma’am.”

Customer: “Well, I’m sure the owner would want to hear about this!”

(I give in and call him over. The customer explains her concerns. As a black man, my boss isn’t happy with her racism, but agrees to talk to the homeless man.)

Owner: “Excuse me, sir, are you finding what you need?”

Homeless Man: “Well, not really. I’m hoping for something versatile in a dark or navy wool, but most of the options in my size are cut American style instead of European, which fits me a little better. Not to mention they’re all pinstriped, which I really don’t have the build for, you know?”

Owner: “I… yes, I understand. I think we may have some options over here, if you’ll follow me. How did you know all that?”

Homeless Man: “Back before I lost my job, I used to be really into this stuff. I’m not looking for anything fancy, just something I can use to look good for a job interview later today.”

(My boss helps him find something he likes, and comes to the counter with him. The suit is priced at $87.)

Homeless Man: *digging in his pockets* “Hang on, I think I’ve got enough.”

Owner: *to me* “Take my card. I’m buying it for him.” *to the homeless man* “Here. The suit’s yours, on one condition. After your interview today, you come back and apply for a job here, too. Got it?”

Homeless Man: “I… oh, my God, thank you. Thank you so much.”

(Two years later, that formerly-homeless man is my manager, and has a little girl with his new wife — the owner’s sister.)

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Praise Cheeses

, , , , , , | Right | February 12, 2013

(Most delis have two slicer machines: one for meat and one for cheese. My coworker is cutting meat for an elderly woman who has placed a very large order, because she’s hosting a book club meeting at her house this afternoon. We’re chatting with her when a 40-something customer approaches the counter.)

Me: “Good morning. Can I help you, ma’am?”

Customer: “Hi. Could I get a half-pound of [brand] roast beef, please?”

Me: “Certainly. I’m afraid [coworker] here is using the meat slicer to fill this lady’s order at the moment. Could I get you any cheese in the meantime?”

Customer: “No, I don’t want any cheese.”

Me: “Okay, then. If you want to do some more shopping and come back in a few minutes I should have your order ready by then.”

Customer: “No, I don’t have any more shopping to do. This is the last thing I’m buying.”

Me: “I see. Then I’m afraid there will be a little wait while my coworker finishes cutting meat for her order.”

Customer: “What do you mean I have to wait? That slicer’s not being used, just use that one!”

(She gestures toward the cheese slicer.)

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am. That’s our cheese slicer. I’m afraid I can’t cut meat with that one.”

Customer: “Why the h*** not?!”

Me: “It’s a possible health hazard. They call it cross-contamination, and that’s what happens if I use equipment to prepare food for you that was just touching something you’re allergic to. Say, if you came to get cheese but were allergic to some kind of meat, the meat juice could get on the cheese you order and make you sick.”

Customer: “Well, I’m not allergic to any kind of meat or cheese. Just use the stupid slicer already!”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am. I can’t do that. Even though you might not have any allergies, some of our other customers might. On top of that, our management has a zero-tolerance policy for that. I could get fired for doing it.”

Customer: “Well, that’s an idiotic policy! I’m not other customers; I’m me! I don’t care what happens to your other customers! If they’re allergic to meat it’s just proof that God wants to get rid of them so they won’t inconvenience people like me!”

Me: “Well, I do care about our other customers, ma’am. And I’m going to ask you to please lower your voice and not tell them that God wants them to die, or I’ll have to call my manager over.”

Customer: “Go ahead and call him, smart guy! You think you know what God wants better than I do? I’ve gone to [Church] for 10 years!”

Me: “No, ma’am. I don’t think I know what God wants. Actually, I don’t believe in God.”

Customer:You’re an atheist! No wonder you won’t just cut my f***ing meat! You were sent here by Satan himself to stop me! You’re just like Hitler or Saddam Hussein! Call your manager over here right now, so I can tell him there are demons casting spells over his meat!”

(Fed up, the elderly woman my coworker is serving slaps her own forehead and turns to the raving customer.)

Elderly Woman: “Miss, you need to hush your fat mouth up and let these folks do their job. They don’t need you hooting and carrying on. And I’ll have you know I’ve been attending [Church] for 40 years, and I know that over there they teach you to have some respect and decency! No wonder you don’t have any, because you can’t hear anything over the sound of yourself screeching! And whatever that young man believes about God is between God and himself, but God loves him no matter what.”

(The customer is silent, and then stammers angrily for a few seconds.)

Customer: “Well, he, uh… he should have just cut my d*** meat!”

(She storms out of the store.)

Elderly Woman: “Some people have no tact.”

Me: “Would you like to try a free sample of our [most expensive cheese], ma’am?”

Elderly Woman: “I’d love to, young man. God bless you.”

Me: “He already does, ma’am.”


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