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Impolite With Or Without The Discount

, , , , | Right | June 15, 2017

(This guest has stayed with our hotel several times, always finding something wrong in order to take advantage of our 100% money-back guarantee if she’s not “satisfied.” She has the highest tier rewards points in the hotel chain as well. She’s also EXTREMELY unpleasant and we all dread dealing with her. She comes to check out, wanting to pay cash. She’s used a “points + money” rate of $40.)

Me: “Okay, your total is [amount]. How was your stay?”

Unpleasant Guest: “I’m not paying that. You need to take my corporate discount off.”

Me: “Ma’am, you didn’t book on a corporate rate. You booked with your reward points. I can’t take more of a discount off.”

Unpleasant Guest: “Yes, you CAN! I do this all the time.” *she doesn’t; never at this location, anyway* “Call whoever you have to call. Get my discount, NOW.”

Me: *smiling through teeth* “Of course.”

(I go to the back and call my manager, who confirms that no, we can’t take a discount off the rate. She’s only paying $40 a night anyway, and we’d be losing money if we gave her more of a discount. I return to tell Unpleasant Guest this fact.)

Unpleasant Guest: “I can’t believe this! You’re giving TERRIBLE customer service.” *makes a huge display of writing my name on her folio, the date, and the customer service phone number* “I can’t stay here and argue about it any longer. YOU need to learn better customer service.”

Me: *while taking her cash and giving her change* “I’m sorry you feel that way, ma’am. Have a great day.”

Unpleasant Guest: *as she storms away* “I’m sorry you LOOK that way.”

(I’ve never been so insulted by a guest in my life. My manager backed me up and sent her an email telling her to choose another hotel to stay on her next visit.)

Airports Always Bring Out The Goodbyes

, , , , | Right | June 14, 2017

(My mum is the bad customer in this story. This takes place back in ‘80s before I was born. My mum is saying goodbye to a then-boyfriend at an airport, in a very inappropriate public display of affection. They are passionately kissing with my mum straddled across his lap; they can barely take their hands off each other, groping, grabbing, etc. Eventually they pull themselves apart and she goes to the check in. In her defence, mum has always had a wicked sense of humour.)

Air Hostess: *while at boarding gate* “So, saying goodbye to a loved one?”

Mum: “Yeah, that was my brother.”

Air Hostess: *literally jumps and stares at my mum in horror*

(Mum said she hoped one day the hostess realised she was joking.)

The Phone Is On But Nobody’s Home

, , , , , | Right | June 12, 2017

(A customer comes up to my till, places her items on the counter, and immediately takes out her phone.)

Me: “Who was helping you pick your items out today?”

(I work at a boutique that gives employees bonuses based on the sales they make. Thus, I need to know who was helping each customer so I can enter it into the register.)

Customer: *doesn’t react*

Me: *a little louder* “Was anyone helping you pick out your items today?”

Customer: “Huh? Oh, no, I didn’t even try them on. I’m in a big hurry.”

Me: “Okay, no problem.”

(I’m relatively new to the job, and still trying to get the hang of the cashiering process, but hearing that she’s in a hurry, I do my best to get her checked out quickly. However:)

Me: “May I have your phone number so you can get your membership discount?”

Customer: *no reaction, still looking at her phone*

Me: “Ma’am, what’s your phone number?”

Customer: “Hm? Oh, it’s [Number]”

(This continued for the entire rest of the transaction. She’d immediately go back to her phone after answering my questions, and she was so absorbed in whatever she was doing that I’d have to ask twice. Every. Single. Time. This effectively doubled the time she spent at the register. Pro tip: if you’re in a “big hurry,” maybe pay enough attention to the transaction that I can actually get you out quickly?)

Cut From The Mouth Of Babes

, , , | Right | June 12, 2017

(I’m quite short and petite, so many customers mistake me for a teenager and patronise me even though I’m actually 20. This isn’t helped by the fact that it’s currently school holidays.)

Customer: “I need three metres of this fabric. But I need you to cut it straight.”

Me: “Of course, ma’am. We make an effort to ensure that every cut has been measured currently and is straight.”

(I measure out the fabric and take normal precautions to ensure it is properly lined up with the ruler so the cut will be straight. The customer apparently doesn’t think I’ve done this correctly, and moves the fabric. I firmly move it back and begin to cut. She starts to move the fabric while I’m cutting.)

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but it’s impossible for me to cut the fabric straight if you keep moving it.”

Customer: “But it’s not straight!”

(She keeps moving the fabric.)

Me: “I’d really appreciate it if you’d leave the measuring and cutting to me. I’ve been working here for over two years and I can assure you that you will receive three metres of correctly cut fabric. After I’ve finished cutting you’re welcome to measure the piece for yourself. If it’s incorrect I’ll happily cut you a new one.”

(She went red and kept quiet after that. To add icing to the cake, my colleague in her mid-40s approached me while I was processing the transaction and asked me how to place a complicated order. Never assume that someone who looks young is inexperienced.)

Making A Ballsy First Impression

, , , , , , | Friendly | May 19, 2017

I’ve recently joined a niche community that collects ABJDS (Asian ball-jointed dolls) and have gotten my very first doll as a wedding gift from my husband. Excited, I decide to arrange something called a “Doll Meet” where local people in the community get together, talk shop, trade, and just generally have a fun time together, playing and dressing up our dolls. I put out an open invite and get a few responses from people I’ve met previously who are happy to come over, including one friend who, while not in the hobby, is always happy to meet new people. I’ve known her for years and we constantly mess with each other.

Most everyone has arrived, except for my long time friend and, when the doorbell rings, I assume it’s her. I open the door, shout, “Go away!”, and slam the door shut, as I often do with her.

Only, as the door’s falling shut, I realize it’s not my friend, but a girl I hadn’t yet met who’d asked to join the party.

Horrified, I yank the door open, apologizing profusely. She’s confused, but luckily has a good sense of humor and was able to laugh it off and we’ve been friends ever since.

My friend who likes to mess with me thought it was hysterical.


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