(The store I work for has just started going through liquidation after the entire business has announced their closure. The company in charge of the liquidation has decided to hire some temps to help us move stock out to the floor and other odd jobs around the store. One of the temps seems a little shady, and my coworkers say he smells of alcohol. One day, while I’m on break, I can hear the one of the supervisors ask for one of the temps through my radio. No one has seen him, and I don’t think much of it. A little over an hour after my break has ended, the supervisor comes up to me.)

Supervisor: “Has [Temp #1] left the restroom yet?”

Me: “No. Is that where he’s been?”

Supervisor: “Someone saw him go in there two hours ago, and he hasn’t come out yet.”

Me: “I’ll keep an eye out.”

(No one ever sees the temp leave the restrooms. I even go in and call his name but get no response. I get pulled away by a customer so I can’t pay attention to him coming out. About ten minutes later, I hear this over my radio.)

Coworker: “Hey, [Manager], can you come to the restrooms real quick?”

Manager: “I’m with a customer right now; I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

Coworker: “It’s an emergency. You need to get here now.”

(It turns out the temp was in one of the stalls the whole two hours we couldn’t find him. My coworker forced open the door and found the temp unresponsive. The manager called an ambulance to come get him. The next day I asked one of the other temps if they knew what happened to him.)

Me: “Hey, [Temp #2], do you know what happened to [Temp #1] yesterday?”

Temp #2: “The hospital said he was dehydrated.”

Me: “Really? That doesn’t sound right.”

(We talked a bit with him, implying that [Temp #1] had too much to drink on his break. [Temp #1] showed up the next day but was sent home. Management told him he needed a doctor’s note if he wanted to continue working with us, which we all knew he wasn’t going to get. The odd part was when we couldn’t find him, some of us were saying that he probably passed out on drugs in the bathroom. We didn’t know we were sort of correct.)

(My manager and I are in the break room when another associate comes in. She looks irritated.)

Me: “Hey, [Associate], what’s up?”

Associate: “I just need a minute.”

Manager: “Are you ill?”

Associate: “No, just… people.”

Me: “What happened?”

Associate: “A lady just went off on customer service for refusing her exchange.”

Me: “What was she trying to exchange?”

Associate: “Spoiled milk.”

Manager: *sits forward, concerned* “Spoiled? I’ll contact the dairy department and have—”

Associate: “She left it in the car for two weeks. Apparently, it was pretty swollen when she found it.”

Manager: “Oh. Yeah, sorry… No.”

(We hear an announcement on the headset:)

Announcer: “Clean-up to the grocery entrance with a mop and bucket. A customer said some lady drove by and threw… milk? …out the window of her car, and it exploded.”

(I am looking after the pub while the manager is away on holiday. It’s lunchtime, and the whole place is very busy. One woman has ordered food for herself and her family — three others. As we are very busy, I am on the bar serving food and drinks as required, and also walking the floor tidying and doing standard “check-backs.”)

Me: “Sorry to interrupt, but could I just check that everything is okay with your food here?”

Whole Table: “Yes, thank you, very good.”

Me: “Excellent. If I can get you anything else, just give me a shout.”

(I then leave the table and go back to the bar to continue serving the many other customers. About ten minutes later…)

Woman: “Excuse me. I have a complaint about our food and would like a refund.”

Me: “Okay, bear with me for just one moment. I will finish serving this customer and be with you straight away.”

(I walk over to the table to discuss what the issue is.)

Me: “I’m very sorry; what is the problem with the food?”

Woman: “It wasn’t cooked very well, and wasn’t very tasty.”

(I notice that all four plates are virtually empty; in fact, two are totally clean.)

Me: “I am very sorry you feel that way, but I notice that you have eaten almost all your meals, and when I checked on you part way through the meal you seemed very content and did not raise any issues to me at any other time.”

Woman: *getting a little bit aggressive* “I don’t care; I am making a complaint now and would like a refund.”

Me: *remaining very calm* “I do apologise, but unfortunately we do have a policy that if the customer does not raise a concern until after they have eaten all the food, then a refund cannot be given for the food. I would be happy to provide your party with an extra drink by way of a goodwill gesture.”

Woman: *shouting very loudly* “That is not good enough! I want a full refund! Where is the manager?! I want to speak to the manager!”

(At this stage all my experience and ability to remain calm are wearing very thin.)

Me: “Okay, bear with me. I will just see if the manager is available.”

(I remove the plates from the table and head through the doors to the kitchen where I wait for a few moments, before heading back over to the table.)

Me: “Hello, madam, I understand you have an issue with the service and the food. Is there anything I can do for you?”

(With this, half the pub, who are very much aware of who I am and what I am doing, start laughing.)

Woman: “Is this some sort of joke?!”

Me: “No, madam. I am the manager and I have explained to you very clearly what our policy is; I have even gone above and beyond to try to appease you, despite the fact that you very obviously were trying to scam free food. If I could ask you to leave now, please, as I have instructed my staff not to serve you any longer, that would be most appreciated. Thank you.”

(When I got back behind the bar, I was bought four separate drinks from customers, as I had made their days. I never did see the family in the pub again.)

(I’m in a local pizza parlor. I have just stopped at the grocery store next door for some things, so rather than get delivery, I am just going to bring the pizza home. While waiting for it to be finished, another customer comes storming in.)

Customer: “Where’s my d*** pizzas?!”

(The girl at the register looks startled, but I half-hear the guys in the back say something like, “Not again.”)

Worker: “I’m sorry, what name was it ordered under?”

Customer: “The same name I always order it under, and you always take too d*** long!”

Worker: “I really am sorry that it took too long, but we’re very busy, and we’ve been telling everyone orders will be at least forty-five minutes to an hour.”

Customer: “Yeah, I know, and that’s too long! I’ve been waiting at least that much! Where’s my order for [several pizzas]?!”

(One of the guys making the pizzas pipes up.)

Cook: “Probably at your front door; the driver left with it about three minutes ago.”

Customer: “Bull! I know you lazy b*****ds are just standing around and—”

(Right on cue, his cell phone goes off. He answers angrily and stomps around the eating area while yelling back and forth. While he is doing so, the owner of the business comes out of the back.)

Customer: “I demand to be compensated for this!”

Owner: “No. Every two weeks you pull this nonsense, and every two weeks we tell you the same thing; you’re not getting free pizza because you think you’re special and we’ll magically make five pizzas in half the time it takes to make one! Especially in the middle of the football playoffs!”

Customer: “That’s what these are for; we’re trying to watch it at my house!”

Me: “These guys make some of the best pizza I’ve ever had; are you actually surprised that they get busy, especially at a time like this?! If you know it’s going to take an hour to get to you, then order an hour sooner! Stop making those of us that want to order look bad, and use your d*** head!”

(The customer didn’t get his free pizza, had to wait for the driver to get back, and took it home himself. I got a fist-bump from one of the cooks, and the owner handed me a bottle of soda; apparently being a regular that helps out is a better way to get stuff than being a jacka**!)

(I am running my department on the far side of our store. A lady with a sour expression on her face comes up to the counter. I recognize her as a regular difficult customer. I die a little inside but smile and immediately start walking toward her. She frowns and clears her throat loudly like she is trying to get my attention, even though I am already walking toward her. She is also drumming her fingers on the counter so loudly that you can hear the thump of each one.)

Me: “Hi! What brings you in today?”

Sour Lady: “Huh! Yes, I don’t know if you have the knowledge I require, but I bought 30 heavy duty binders a few weeks ago online from home, and they have not held up at all! They are terrible quality, even though they are your store brand!“

(She peers at me disapprovingly and waits, so I try to ask her how I can help her with her problem.)

Me: “Oh, that’s too bad—”

Sour Lady: *cuts me off* “My question is, can I return them and get my hard-earned money back?!”

Me: *trying to be helpful, and to get this resolved and her out of the store ASAP* “Absolutely! If it is a defective product of our brand, we can certainly return them for you, although if you ordered online at home, we usually have you call the corporate phone number so they can do the return for you. But we can always do the return in store, as well.”

Sour Lady: “Hmph! Fine. I would hope you would since it is your company’s product that is terrible!“

(She walks away and I forget about it. Two days later, I see the same lady, sour face in full force, walk toward me with a cart full of perfectly-good-looking binders and a handful of paperwork.)

Sour Lady: “You! I hope your information was correct before, because I have come to do my return!” *looks at me like I am a worm*

Me: “Of course. Did you bring your order paperwork?

(The sour lady throws a stack of papers on the counter and smirks. I look through her papers, and thankfully she has her invoice so I can process the return. I notice she bought the binders over SIX MONTHS AGO, but don’t say anything since we can still technically return them and I just want her out. I am thinking she used the binders for a project and then when it was done decided to return them. I have to enter what amount she is getting back manually since she ordered online from home. She paid $68.00.)

Me: “Okay, if you want to give me the card you paid with, I can put the $68 on it for you.”

Sour Lady: “WHAT?! No, you must not have learned math in school! See, I used a $30 coupon, so I should be getting $98 back! I have the coupon right here!”

(She glares at me and is just radiating bad attitude.)

Me: *still calm and smiling* “Yes, I see, but this coupon expired the day of your original purchase, over six months ago. And you only paid $68.00 for the binders, so we can only give you what you paid. We cannot just give you 30 dollars for free. Does that make sense?”

Sour Lady: “No! You are robbing me of $30! That is outrageous! You are clearly incompetent!”

Me: “No, ma’am, you paid $68, and are getting $68 back.”

Sour Lady: “Get me your manager, now!“

(I sigh and page for the manager. He comes up and I explain; all the while Sour Lady is glaring and smirking at the same time if that is possible.)

Manager: “My associate is correct, ma’am; we cannot give you $30 over what you paid.”

(The Sour Lady starts arguing and treating us like dirt for ten minutes. My manager has had enough and wants her out of the store, so he gives in and types the $98 into the register to go back on the card.)

Sour Lady: “I want cash! That way I have it, and you won’t cheat me!”

(My manager frowns but gives her cash.)

Sour Lady: *smirks nastily and says* “Well, you learn something new every day don’t you?”

(The manager, who isn’t very patient, sort of snaps.)

Manager: “Yes, ma’am, you do. I have learned today that you like to make a fuss to get free money and abuse our return system. I did it for you this once, but all of my employees will know from here on out that we will not bend rules for you, or do returns outside of the policy, or refund expired coupons. If this is not to your liking, you can go to another store and rip them off in future!”

(My mouth is hanging open at this point and I am sure I am smiling, too.)

Sour Lady: *starts screaming* “How rude! You are a bunch of idiots! I want your boss’s number! I will have you all fired! I am a loyal customer!“

(My manager gives her the corporate number immediately.)

Manager: “Please do call them, so they can tell you to give us $30 back. And if you were a loyal customer, you wouldn’t always be returning things and ripping people off!”

(The sour lady is speechless, and waddles out in a huff!)

Me: “That was amazing! What happened to you?”

Manager: “Sometimes retail just crushes your soul too much, and you need to stand up to jerks to inflate it back up!”

(That is still my favorite memory of that manager. Sour Face did call corporate, but our district manager said we were right and made a note about that nasty lady in case she tries to do that again!)