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Chlorine Wishes And Door Knob Dreams

, , , , , | Right | December 30, 2008

Customer: “Hi, what kinds of doorknobs do you carry?”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but we don’t have any doorknobs.”

Customer: “What?! WHY NOT?”

Me: “Um… because this is a pool supply store.”

Customer: “This is totally unacceptable! I came here to get a new set of doorknobs for my garage, and you’re telling me that you won’t sell me any?”

Me: “Yeah, pretty much.”

Customer: “You are so rude! I demand to know the name of the manager! I’m going to complain about this; I hope you liked your job!”

Me: “I do like my job, as a matter of fact. Here you go.”

(I hand her my business card, which states that I am the store manager.)

Me: “Just call this number and I’m sure you’ll be taken care of.”

(The customer grumbles and walks out. She gets into her car and proceeds to call the number on the business card I just handed her.)

Me: “Thank you for calling [Store], this is [My Name], how may I help you?”

Customer: “Yes, I was just in one of your stores, and the employee was incredibly rude to me. He refused to sell me a set of doorknobs.”

Me: “I’m sorry you feel that way, ma’am, but as I just told you when you were in the store, we do not sell doorknobs.”

Customer: “I WANT TO SPEAK TO THE MANAGER! NOW!”

Me: “You are, ma’am. I am the store manager.”

(The customer screams and hangs up, then speeds away in her car. In the process, she cuts off a police officer, who promptly pulls her over.)


This story is part of the Awesome Manager roundup!

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Man Cannot Live By Water Alone

, , , | Right | December 22, 2008

Me: “Hello, ma’am. Can I get you anything to drink?”

Customer #1: “Yes, please. I would like a glass of water.”

Me: “Coming right up.”

Me: *delivering the water* “There you are, ma’am. Have you decided what you want to order?”

Customer #1: *downing the water* “Wow, this water is great. Do you happen to have any more, sweetie?”

Me: “Er… yeah we do. Do you want another glass?”

Customer #1: “I would appreciate it.”

(I go to get her another glass of water, and as soon as I come back, she begins to speak up about the menu.)

Customer #1: “Oh, Lord! Don’t you have any vegetarian stuff here?”

Me: “I’m sorry miss, but this is a bar and grill. We have salads, but they all come with chicken or beef.”

Customer #1: “That’s inhumane! Don’t you know what you’re doing to the animals?”

Me: “I think you should go to a vegan restaurant. What did you expect from a bar and grill?”

Customer #1: “Don’t give me your sass! I just want some non-animal food! Don’t you have any of that?”

Me: “Well… we have grilled cheese, and–”

Customer #1: *cutting me off* “WHAT?! CHEESE COMES FROM MILK, WHICH COMES FROM COWS! I’M NOT EATING THAT!”

Me: “I’m sorry then, ma’am, there’s really nothing for you here. Please quiet down; you’re disturbing the other customers.”

Customer #2: *from across the room* “Listen to what he tells you, you stupid b****!”

Customer #1: “Goodness! You god-d*** animal murderers deserve to go to Hell! *pause* “Er, sonny, may I get another glass of that water?”

Me: “OUT!”

Customer #2: *from across the room* “Mmm… murder.”

I Hear Santa Has The Same Issue

, , , | Right | December 16, 2008

(I work in a call center where we take reservations for a Christmas event.)

Me: “Thank you for calling [Call Center]; how may I help you?”

Customer: “My wife has a severe phobia of m*dgets. Will the elves be actual little people?”

Me: “The people dressed as elves are normal-sized, but I can’t guarantee any of the patrons won’t be little people.”

One Annoyed Paranoid

, , , | Right | November 19, 2008

(I work at the photo department and am checking out a customer with a “Happy Birthday, Grandson!” birthday card.)

Customer: “Hello… I only have this one birthday card.”

Me: “Okay, that’ll be $3.15. I just need your signature on the line, please.”

(The customer begins to sign her receipt, then pauses. She looks closely at the slip, then looks up at me, angry.)

Customer: “Now how does this know who I am?!”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Customer: “It has my name on it! Right here, below the line! I have never shopped here before. Where did you get my information?”

Me: “Ma’am, the information comes from your credit card.”

Customer: “Well!”

(She signs the slip and gives it to me. I put the slip in the register drawer.)

Customer: “And what are you doing with that? It has my information on it. You can’t just keep it!”

Me: “Umm, we have to keep it. That’s how you pay for things…” *register prompts for a zip code* “… and may I get your zip code, please?”

Customer: “Why do you need my address?!”

Me: “Well, American Express needs it. It’s a security measure, and it doesn’t need your whole address, just the zip code.”

Customer: “This is identity theft! Give me back my signature!”

Me: “Um, I promise you, I am not. I can’t open the drawer mid-transaction, but I can call a manager to cancel your transaction.”

Customer: “You aren’t a cashier! How do I even know you work here?!””

Me: “Well, here’s my name tag. And my picture is on the wall.”

Customer: “If you work in the photo department, that could be Photoshopped! You do not work here! I want a manager!”

Me: “Umm, okay…” *calls the manager*

Manager: “What can I help you with today?”

Customer: “This thief is stealing my personal identity!”

Manager: “Excuse me?”

Customer: “I want my signature back! She is asking too many questions!”

Manager: “Okay, I will take it from here. So what is your zip code?”

(My manager takes care of the rest of the transaction. The receipt then prints out…)

Manager: “Here you go! Tell your grandson to have a happy birthday!”

Customer: “AND HOW DO YOU KNOW MY GRANDSON!? YOU PEOPLE STOP AT NOTHING! I AM REPORTING YOU! THIS IS ILLEGAL!” *continues yelling all the way out the door*


This story is part of our Identity Theft roundup!

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A Bozo By Any Other Name

, , , , | Right | November 19, 2008

Me: “Hello, how may I help you?”

(The client looks at name on desk; my name’s Hattie.)

Client: “Your name is so stupid.”

Me: “Sorry, sir. I can’t help that. It’s not so bad. ”

Client: “Your parents must really hate you.”

Me: “No, I’m sure they don’t. How can I help?”

Client: “I want to check my registration. Name’s Horace Gumptin.”

Me: *stifles giggle*

Client: “Are you laughing at me? Your name rhymes with fattie!”