I worked in a personnel office, inputting timecards for the working week, which ran from Monday to Sunday. This info would go up to the payroll department for processing.

We got two new employees who worked the night shift, from midnight to 8:00 am, five days a week, but those days varied. We could never get the supervisor to understand that if the employee started work at midnight Sunday, that was actually the start of the next week; i.e. a Monday shift. So, we had these employees getting four days of work one week, then six days the next week, one of which was overtime. The employees were unhappy that their pay wasn’t steady week-to-week, even though they were getting more money overall, and the company was unhappy that they were paying unnecessary overtime.

I started inputting their hours starting at 11:59 pm on Sunday evening and ending 7:59 am Monday, which solved the problem. Everyone happy, right?

No. I got written up for falsifying timecards.

(My husband retired from the military with twenty years of service in the military version of customer service for various functions last year. He currently is an operations manager for the contractor that provides housekeeping and food service for the local hospital. All told, he has over forty direct reports. He is shopping at a major general store type retailer before work one day. The store manager is the only one on duty and she refuses to check him out before she does anything else. My husband walks up to the counter and no one is there for several minutes.)

Husband: “Can I get some help here?”

Store Manager: “Just a minute!”

([Husband] patiently waits. Five minutes pass by and no one has come to the counter. He asks again, a little more forcefully.)

Store Manager: “Can’t you wait?!”

Husband: “No! I am going to be late for work!”

(The store manager then proceeds to come to the front of the store and goes into an office to count tills instead of servicing my husband.)

Husband: “This is poor customer service! What could be more important than servicing a paying customer?”

Store Manager: “What is wrong with you? Don’t you know how customer service works?!”

Husband: “Uh… yeah, I do! I spent twenty years in the military doing customer service for shipping and receiving, and I would never treat a customer the way you did to me!”

Store Manager: “But you didn’t supervise anyone!”

Husband: “I was a Master Sergeant in the Air Force. I sure as heck supervised people! At one time I had over sixty people under me. I am now the manager of over forty people who provide services at [Local Hospital]! If any of my employees treated someone the way you have done to me, I would fire them as soon as possible!”

Store Manager: *checks my husband out* “Why don’t you call corporate, then?”

Husband: “I’m not dealing with your attitude! Don’t expect any more business from my wife and me. I am also telling [Local Veterans Group] not to shop here because you are so disrespectful.”

Related:
Doing A Disservice To Customer Service, Part 4
Doing A Disservice To Customer Service, Part 3
Doing A Disservice To Customer Service, Part 2

(My dad works late, and on his way home from work he decides to pull into a fast food drive-thru and order a meal. He orders a fish sandwich, a small coffee, fries, and an apple pie. After paying, he pulls up to the second window, the server gives him his food, and then he realizes that he hasn’t gotten his pie or his sandwich. He explains this to the employee, and they go to get him a new one. The manager, a tall, shaggy-looking man who looks like he’d rather be anywhere else, sticks his head out the window.)

Manager: “Why have you not driven off yet?“

Dad: “Well, they forgot my pie and my sandwich, and they were just going to go get them for me.”

Manager: “SO? You should drive off because you’re holding up the line!”

(My dad looks over his shoulder to see no line, no cars in the parking lot, no one in the restaurant, and no one on the road. He doesn’t want to start anything, so he just parks in the lot. Eventually, the server comes out with a bag and then goes back into the store. My dad finds out that they’ve given him the wrong sandwich, and it’s probably two dollars more, so he walks into the store to pay the rest of the cost. As soon as he walks in, he notices napkins everywhere, cups strewn on the floor, and only half the lights on, despite the fact that this is a 24-hour establishment and customers could come in at any time. He walks up to the counter and waits quietly until another server starts working with him. The manager comes back.)

Manager: “You again?! What do you want?“

Dad: “I’ve got the wrong food, but I was just going to pay for it.”

Manager: “You can’t do that.”

Dad: “Well, what am I going to do?”

Manager: “Just give us back the food and leave!”

Server: “Sir, we aren’t allowed to take back messed up food; that’s company policy!”

(The manager is fuming and yelling at my dad and the server, until another man comes in, also holding a bag of food. He turns to them.)

Manager: “What do you need?”

Man: “I just went the drive-thru, and I got a fish sandwich; I ordered a [sandwich that my dad had gotten].”

Dad: “Hey! I got one, and I ordered a fish sandwich; how about we trade?”

Manager: “No! You’re not allowed to do that!”

Server: “Why not? They paid for them, and the food is theirs now. We can’t take it back.”

(Before the manager can respond, one of the few workers — many of them have stopped to watch — blurts out:)

Worker: “Hey, [Manager], aren’t those the meals that you put together that we told you that’d you mixed up?”

(The man and my dad started laughing and leaving. The workers began to laugh, too, as the manager stormed into the bathroom.)

I work for a national bank, and as the most senior member of our team, I’m sometimes asked to train our newer employees. I’ll often provide materials to hand out so people can make notes and add them to their files.

One time, I had trained our entire staff on a new process, and afterward, my boss sent me an email saying I needed to be more careful when using actual client names and account numbers in my training materials. I asked my manager to look at the materials again.

“Account name: John Doe. Account number: 12345.”

(There’s a certain restaurant that I always frequent when I want Chinese food, be it for sitting in or taking out. On this particular takeout, among my order is their signature chicken dish, which is served in a sauce and normally comes with, among other things, mushrooms. I can’t stand mushrooms, however, so I always get it without since the sauce makes it hard to tell what’s on my fork. In this particular instance, the order is almost entirely sauce and mushrooms — not one piece of chicken or any of the vegetables to be found, and I dump the whole order onto a plate to check. So, I call up to complain, and by chance, the person who answers is the current owner’s wife, who, for a few reasons, I’m on a first-name basis with. It’s also worth noting that her father was the original owner of the restaurant, and he gave it to her husband when he wanted to retire.)

Wife: “[Restaurant], how can I help you?”

Me: “Hey there, [Wife], it’s [My Name].”

Wife: “[My Name]? Didn’t you just pick up an order?”

Me: “I did. And I hate to be that customer, but I have to let you know about a problem with my [Chicken Dish].”

Wife: “They gave you mushrooms, didn’t they?”

Me: “They did. I wouldn’t have minded so much if there had been some chicken or vegetables in it, though.”

Wife: “You got nothing but mushrooms?”

Me: “Maybe one cashew, but otherwise just mushrooms and sauce.”

Wife: “I’m so sorry. That’s completely unacceptable. Bring it back in, and I’ll make you a fresh one myself.”

(I box it back up and drive down. As it’s rush hour, what’s normally a ten-minute drive instead takes about twenty minutes. In this time, [Wife] disappears somewhere, and instead, greeting me at the counter is her husband. Also of note is that the restaurant is fairly populated, but clearly not in a rush.)

Owner: “How can I help you?”

Me: “I called early to complain about this [Chicken Dish] you prepared for me. Your wife, [Wife], asked me to bring it in.”

Owner: “That’s not our food.”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Owner: “That’s! Not! Our! Food! Get out of here! You’re not getting a free meal here!”

(By the time he’s finished, the whole restaurant has turned to look at us. One waitress, his daughter, emerges from the kitchen with a takeout order in hand just in time to hear most of that. She looks like she is about to die of embarrassment.)

Daughter: *hushed* “Dad? What are you doing?”

(I take this opportunity to grab my phone.)

Owner: “I’m putting this scammer in his place!”

Daughter: *puts the bag in my hand* “This is [My Full Name]! His family’s been coming here since before he was born! They’re some of our best customers! He and his dad even know the entire staff by name!”

Me: “I also went to high school with [Daughter] and graduated the same year.” *holds up my phone* “Here’s a photo of us on graduation day posted to Facebook. It was her profile image for a few months after graduation. And when I finally got my black belt from the martial arts school up the road, I had my celebration dinner here. There used to be pictures of that day up on the wall here, along with many stills of the other events this restaurant used to schedule. So, believe me: if I wanted free food, I have a much easier means than faking a screwed-up order.”

Owner: “But that doesn’t look like our food!”

Me: “Y’know, I’ve been saying that for years! Ever since you took over from [Original Owner], you’ve used lower-quality food stuff, the portion sizes have gotten smaller, you’ve fired almost every cook and waitress, and yet you still jacked the prices. I kept coming here out of loyalty to [Wife], [Daughter], and [Original Owner]. And this is how you treat your loyal customers in front of a crowd? [Daughter], thank your mom for this remake, but let her know her husband doesn’t want my business anymore.”

(I held true to those words. I found a new restaurant and I now get my Chinese food there. I work at that martial arts school now, so I drive past this restaurant every day. Business has been going down considerably. I also found out from [Daughter] that a huge part of the problem was that her father lost a ton of money playing the stock market. He even had to sell their house, and they now live on the top floor of the apartment building he also owns.)

Related:
There Is Mushroom For Improvement, Part 4
There Is Mushroom For Improvement, Part 3
There Is Mushroom For Improvement, Part 2
There Is Mushroom For Improvement