My Bark Is Worse Than My Gigabyte
(I work in cell phone sales at a major department store. Although I work for a different company than the department store, we don’t have our own section; we’re stuck back in electronics. We are expected to help with electronics sales, despite not having keys for any of the locked cases. By the time this customer rolls around, my coworker is on hour two of his “fifteen minute break,” I’ve had two elderly ladies who believed in the “if I scream, I get discounts” policy, another guy who took it personally when he forgot his receipt, and almost no questions for cell phones. Finally, this customer comes up with a question I can answer.)
Customer: “Hi. I have 32 GB of space on my phone and it’s getting full. Do you know if my phone can take a memory card?”
Me: *genuinely upbeat at the polite tone he puts on* “Well, let’s take a look. May I see your phone?”
(He hands me his phone. I take off the case and start looking it over to see if the memory slot would be behind the back case or the slot where the SIM card goes, and he suddenly gets angry.)
Customer: “The slot is right here.” *points at the SIM card holder, almost knocking the phone out of my hand*
Me: “All right, one moment.”
(I go to pop out the little drawer and slide it out, seeing that there is indeed a space for a memory card. As I’m doing this, he tries to yank the phone out of my hands, screaming:)
Customer: “NO, IT’S HERE!” *he causes the tiny SIM card to go flying to the floor*
Me: “I’m so sorry! Let me get that…”
(As I’m rooting around for the card, I check a paper folder near where it fell and see it’s not there. The entire time I’m looking on the carpet he keeps screaming:)
Customer: “IT’S IN HERE! IT’S IN HERE!”
(He picks up the folder and tries to shove it in my face. I try explaining I looked there, then look again to appease him, but he is still screaming. Finally, I find it across the floor from where the folder was, nowhere near it.)
Me: “There we are. So, it does look like you have a slot for additional memory. Now, your phone only allows an extra [GB amount] of space, so—”
Customer: “I already knew there was a slot for it! I asked you how much space I could add!”
Me: “Well, you can go up to [GB amount] on this phone—”
Customer: “I knew that! I’m asking if I can transfer photos on there!”
Me: *at this point, I am no longer smiling, but my voice is still in customer service mode* “Why, yes, you can, and in fact, we can set it up so music and other media can be backed up on there as well—”
Customer: *now talking down to me like I’m the biggest idiot on the planet* “Just. Answer. My. Question. How much will this cost?”
Me: “Well, we can walk over to the storage devices and I can show you our selection—”
Customer: “That would be great. Where are they?”
Me: “Right this way.”
(I turn to walk two aisles down to the storage devices, make it all the way there, and realize he isn’t behind me. I wait a moment in case he went around the other way, then step back out of the aisle in case he didn’t see which one I went into, then I finally wander back in case he just left. Instead, he’s standing by the TVs, watching a kid’s toy promo. At this point, I’ve had it. I march right back up to him, and he turns to see me.)
Me: “You know, if you want to look at the storage devices, you have to actually walk the f*** over there yourself, right? This is a TV, not a memory card. So, are you going to f****** follow me, or can I get back to my job?”
(As soon as I said it, all my anger washed away and I was left in horror, but apparently it worked. He stood staring at me, completely silent, and then followed me over to the memory section. I showed him which ones he could use for his phone, he asked me about the prices, then declined getting one that day and left peacefully. He didn’t report me, I never got in trouble, and I felt much better after that.)
