Not About To Have An Opening

, , , | Right | October 17, 2017

(Our building used to be located opposite the town library, but separated by a busy two-lane road. We have just moved to a new purpose-built building on the other side of town, when I get a call.)

Me: “Good morning! This is [College]. How can I help?”

Caller: “Yeah, get me the number for the library!”

Me: “Sure, I’ll just put you through to the campus library.”

Caller:No! I don’t want no crappy campus library! I mean the real library opposite you. I want you to go look at the opening times.”

Me: *speechless* “You want me to walk to the other side of town to the main library just to get their opening times?”

Caller: “I don’t see how it’s hard; just look out your window!”

Me: “We have moved buildings to the other side of town, so even if I wanted to, I couldn’t do that. You can either call them or go online to find out that information.”

Caller: “WHAT F****** GOOD ARE YOU?!” *hangs up*

Your Service Is Of Grave Concern

, , , , , | Working | October 16, 2017

(A relative in another state has passed away. My part of the family can’t make the funeral, but an elderly relative asks me to help him order flowers. I call a national florist chain five days before the funeral. I get a wonderful, helpful rep who helps me pick out the flowers my relative wants, and I even pay extra to have the flowers delivered on a Sunday, the morning of the funeral. One hour before the funeral, I get an automated call saying there was a problem with the order and it will not be delivered. I call the number but get no answer, just a recorded message asking me to leave a message at the beep. I get a call back THAT EVENING, hours after the funeral ends. The rep calling apologizes and comes up with some story that they didn’t have the flowers I ordered to even make the basket. He offers to deliver flowers on the next day to the gravesite, instead. I tell him no thanks; I wanted flowers for the funeral. I demand my money back. I am told I have to call customer service on Monday. I do.)

Customer Service: “Yes, ma’am. I am sorry, but we do not deliver on Sunday so—”

Me: “They why did your rep not only promise me he would, but also charged me extra for Sunday delivery?”

Customer Service: “Yeah, I don’t know. But I can have flowers delivered to the gravesite.”

Me: “No. The funeral was yesterday. I wanted them for the funeral. I paid you for a service, and you failed to provide the service. The reason is irrelevant. So, I want my money back.”

Customer Service: “Well now, instead, I can give you a discount on your next order and we will send a nice fruit bouquet to a family member. How about—”

Me: “No, I do not want fruit. I paid you extra to have flowers delivered to a funeral on a Sunday. You have failed to do so; therefore, I want my money back.”

(He starts trying to pass off a partial refund, trying to tell me that he still had to pay for the flowers and the employees. I tell him that’s not my problem and that his employee has already admitted that they didn’t even have the flowers. I keep repeating that I paid for a product, I did not get it, and I want my money back. After more BS, I tell him to forget it; I will call my bank and report this as fraud. He is not happy at all, and tries to cop an attitude with me. I hang up and call the bank. It turns out this national company has A LOT of complaints just like mine; they pull this all the time. I call to file a complaint with the Better Business Bureau, and am told that the company has been thrown out due to the large number of complaints. They have a 98% negative rating on most online sites. They sell huge arrangements, like for funerals and weddings, don’t deliver, and then try to pass on cheap fruit arrangements to the customers. I am afraid to tell my elderly relative what happened.)

Relative: *sighs* “Well, it serves me right.”

Me: “What ever do you mean?”

Relative: “I should have sent a donation to his favorite charity instead. That’s what he would have wanted. Not stupid flowers.”

(We did end up sending double the amount we would have paid for the flowers to a worthy charity. I think it ended as it should.)

Don’t Want Him As A Member Anyway

, , | Right | October 15, 2017

(I work in a store where our weekly sale flyer features specials only available to people who are store members. This is a free membership that you can sign up for at any time for to get the deals, and the form takes less than two minutes.)

Me: “Hi, can I get your store card or phone number?”

Customer: “No, I don’t want to be harassed after you sell my number.”

Me: “I promise we don’t sell your number, and we don’t need a phone number on the account, anyway, just your name and signature. Most of your items are on special this week and you’d save almost twenty dollars.”

Customer: “No. These are sale items. They’re in your flyer. I’m not signing up.”

Me: “I can’t give the member prices without the card. It will take one minute. If you look at the flyer, anything with the symbol beside it is for members only.”

Customer: “I AM NOT SIGNING UP FOR YOUR SCAM ARTIST CLUB. THIS IS FALSE ADVERTISING. I WILL CALL MY LAWYER AND I CAN AND WILL BRING THIS COMPANY TO COURT BECAUSE YOU ARE ADVERTISING A PRICE AND REFUSING TO GIVE IT TO ME. NOWHERE DOES IT SAY YOU HAVE TO BE A MEMBER TO GET THESE PRICES!”

Customer #2: *rolls eyes and points to banner on flyer* “It says right here you have to be a member to get these prices.”

Customer #1: “WELL, IT’S STILL RIDICULOUS!” *storms out of the store, leaving everything on the counter*

Taking The Plunge To Customer Service

, , , , , | Right | October 13, 2017

(I work front desk at a hotel. We are very short-staffed and don’t have maintenance or housekeeping 24 hours a day, just one front desk during each shift. This week we have a quite a few softball teams staying with us, and we have already had problems with one of the mothers giving us a hard time. It’s late at night, and I’m the only one working when one of the parents calls down to the front desk.)

Me: “Front desk.”

Mom: “Yes, do you have housekeeping here 24 hours a day?”

Me: “No, I’m very sorry, ma’am, but we don’t.”

Mom: “Oh?! I’ve never heard of that before! At every other hotel we have stayed at, they have 24 hour housekeeping!”

Me: “I’m very sorry about this, ma’am.”

Mom: “Oh, it’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” *hangs up*

(About 10 or 20 minutes pass before the same room calls back down.)

Daughter: “We need a plunger.”

Me: “Okay, I just need someone to come down here and get it.”

(Our policy is that we aren’t allowed to leave the front desk unless it’s somewhere close by, like the pool area. Sometimes if we are slower, then we can run up to the room and drop stuff off, but since we are right around capacity, we have to stay by the desk to help guests.)

Daughter: “Okay.” *hangs up*

(The same room calls down not even five minutes later.)

Mom: *angrily* “What do you mean that we have to come down and get the plunger?! You already don’t have housekeeping 24 hours, and now you don’t have anyone in maintenance to come plunge our toilet?! This is ridiculous!”

Me: “I’m very sorry about this, ma’am, but I am the only one here, and I’m not allowed to leave the front desk.”

Mom: *sighs angrily* “Fine! I’ll send my husband down!” *click*

(I hope that is the last of it, but the phone rings again less than a minute later, and it’s still the same room.)

Dad: “What do you mean, I have to plunge my own toilet?! There is no way that is going to happen! You are going to come up here and plunge the toilet for me!”

Me: “I am very sorry, sir, but as I said before, I am unable to leave the desk.”

Dad: “This is ridiculous!” *click*

(I call up the GM of the hotel and tell him he has to get here because I am having issues with some guests, and as I am talking to him, the mom from the room comes up to me.)

Me: *moves the phone aside* “How can I help you?”

Mom: “I want to talk to your manager!”

Me: “I am on the phone with him right now, ma’am.”

Mom: “Give me the phone; I want to talk to him.”

(I tell my manager that the mom wants to talk to him, and he tells me to hand her the phone. As I stand there, I can hear the two of them arguing back and forth.)

Mom: *hands me the phone* “You talk. I can’t understand him at all!”

Me: *into the phone* “[Manager], it’s me. She said she can’t understand you.”

Manager: “I will be right there.” *click*

Me: *to the mom* “My manager says he will be right here.”

Mom: “Good, and I’m so sorry about this. I didn’t know it was you that I was talking to on the phone! You have been so nice to us since we’ve been here!”

(Note that I have been working since 3:00 pm and it’s about 10:00 pm right now.)

Me: *almost in tears* “It’s okay, ma’am. I understand.”

Mom: “Oh, no! Don’t cry! It’s not your fault! Here; give me the plunger and we can do it ourselves!”

(I go to the back to get the plunger, while still trying to hold back tears, then hand it to her.)

Mom: “I will be right back with it.”

(She leaves to go plunge her toilet. She and her husband come back down and the husband is pissed.)

Mom: “Give her the plunger back, dear.”

Dad: “No! I want this man to see what he expects us to do!” *raises the plunger like a bat and looks like he is going to swing at someone*

Manager: *rushes into the front desk area, going to get a plunger*

Me: “[Manager], they already did it. They are standing at the front desk wanting to talk to you.”

Manager: “Okay.” *walks to the front desk* “What seems to be the problem?”

Mom: “What’s the problem? You expect us to plunge our own toilet! When we come to a hotel, we expect to be completely taken care of and not have to worry about stuff like that!”

Manager: “Ma’am, you are renting a room from us. If you need a toilet plunged, we have it down here. You just have to come get it.”

Dad: “That’s not right!”

(At this point they were sitting there, arguing about how the manager should have more people on staff. It got so bad that when our security guard came in for the night, the husband got pissed off at him, too! The mom had to force her husband to go upstairs so he didn’t get arrested! That’s what you get for yelling at the front desk for no reason, you jerk!)

Don’t Mess With Family (Business)

, , , , , , , | Working | October 13, 2017

(My wife and I have owned a café a few blocks from our house for over a year. I suck at cooking, so 90% of the time I’m a stay-at-home dad to our two-year-old, while my wife is at the café nigh on constantly. I do help out from time to time, and I’ve met most of the employees. I decide to bring our daughter in for lunch one day, since she’s been begging for mummy since she woke up.)

Me: *talking to new employee I’d never seen before* “Hi, is [Wife] in? I’d like to speak to her.”

New Employee: *rolls eyes and sighs* “I don’t know.”

Me: “Could you please find out?”

New Employee: *sighs again* “I can get the boss for you, but I don’t know who [Wife] is.”

Me: “[Wife] is the boss.”

New Employee: *snorts* “No, she isn’t. You’ve been lied to, mate.”

Me: *getting pretty angry at this point about how rude this girl is* “Just get the boss, then.”

New Employee: “Fine, if you’re going to be rude about it!”

(She stalks off. My daughter climbs up onto one of the chairs and sits at the table, pretending to read the menu and excitedly telling anyone who walks past, “SEE MY MUMMY!”)

New Employee: *stalks back over* “He’s coming. Could you control your kid, please? She’s bothering the other customers.”

Me: “She’s not hurting anyone.”

New Employee: “Ugh, whatever.”

(She flounces off to serve someone. A very frazzled looking [Brother-In-Law] comes out of the office and sees me.)

Brother-In-Law: “Oh, it’s just you! I thought it was another bloody complaint about her. [Wife] will be back in a bit; she just ran to get the milk order. Hey there, [Daughter]!”

(My daughter grins and giggles at the sight of her uncle, and in her excitement, knocks over her sippy cup she’d brought with her. It’s spill-proof, so it just falls to the floor and rolls under the table.)

Daughter: “Uh-oh! Sorry, Daddy!”

Me: “That’s fine, sweetie.”

(Before I can get over there, the new employee storms over, picks up the sippy cup, and SLAMS it onto the table, narrowly missing my daughter’s hand. The sudden noise and the girl’s angry face scares my daughter, who begins to cry.)

Brother-In-Law: “Hey! What the h***?!”

New Employee: “She’s been running around wrecking the place since he walked in, demanding to see some lady. He can’t control his kid, and he’s obviously picked up with some woman who lied about being the boss here to seem important.”

Me: “I asked to see [Wife] and she has been nothing but rude. Should I tell her or should you?”

(My brother-in-law has picked up my daughter and is cuddling her, trying to stop her from crying.)

Brother-In-Law: “[New Employee], [Wife] is the boss.”

New Employee: “No, she isn’t. [Supervisor who happens to be my sister-in-law] said some married couple owned the place. She’s not married; she doesn’t wear a ring.”

Me: “She doesn’t wear a ring because when she cooks it tears the gloves. It’s on a necklace instead.”

New Employee: “Ugh, whatever. Could you just stay out of this?”

Me: “Here, take a look at my license.”

(I hand her my wallet, and she flips it open and looks at my license. I’ve never seen someone go so pale so quickly as this employee when she looks at my surname — the name of the d*** café.)

Me: *to [Brother-In-Law]* “Has she had her warnings?”

Brother-In-Law: *grins* “Two, in writing. [Wife] wanted to give her one last chance.”

Me: “I’d say she’s used that.” *to her* “You’re fired.”

New Employee: *stammering* “You can’t do that! You’re not the boss! I’m sorry! I won’t do it again!”

Wife: *who has apparently been standing quietly in the office doorway for a few minutes and has heard enough* “I am definitely the boss, and you are definitely fired.”

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