I’ve been staying with a friend in Cardiff and have just arrived at the station to catch my train home. An international rugby match has recently finished, and the traffic caused by this meant it took longer than anticipated to get to the station, and I’m in real danger of missing my train. As such, I am sprinting full pelt through the concourse, carrying my overnight bag over my shoulder.

As I run, I approach a group of rugby fans walking in the opposite direction. One of them, evidently thinking they’re about to pull the prank of the century, jumps out in front of me, yelling, “Boo!”

There’s absolutely no way I can stop in time, and I barrel straight into the hapless moron, sending him flying. I lose my balance, too, but somehow maintain my forward momentum, turn my stumble into a roll, get back to my feet, and continue on my way.

Behind me, I hear my wannabe roadblock protesting that I’ve hurt him, but one of his friends, laughing, tells him off for being a d**k and says that it was his own d*** fault.

A woman tries to pay for her bill — £40 worth of cocktails — with a pharmacy chain’s loyalty card.

Me: “I’m sorry, madam, this isn’t possible.”

Customer: “I’m going to get the money out.”

I follow her and see her trying to get into a taxi. I challenge her.

Me: “Madam! I need the £40!”

She runs at me, belly first, and screams:

Customer: “I’M PREGNANT!”

She then proceeded to wet herself, claiming her water had broken.

We’re holding a late-night Christmas shopping event with a free glass of champagne for customers upon entry and sparkling juice for non-drinkers and children. There’s a sign up stating one per customer, and so far everyone has accepted this.

I’m a supervisor, and one of the only staff members over the age of eighteen, so I am the only one handling the alcohol. A man comes in to browse and takes a glass of champagne. About five minutes later, he comes back to me. 

Customer: “I need another glass of this.”

Me: “Oh, sorry. We’re only allowed to give out one glass per customer. You could have a glass of sparkling juice if you’d like?”

Customer: “But I don’t want juice. There are glasses on the table and no queue, so I’m having another.”

Me: “We can’t give out more than one per customer; otherwise, we would have to charge the minimum unit price, and we’re not licensed to sell alcohol.”

The customer huffs and walks away to keep browsing.

Two minutes pass, and I notice he’s talking to an underage member of staff who joined two weeks ago. He walks back over.

Customer: *Triumphantly* “She says I can have another glass!”

Me: “Sir, I’m sorry but you can’t. I’ve already told you why. We only have a limited amount and it’s not fair on other customers.”

Customer: “But she said I could, so you have to! I’ve just bought £120 of pyjamas, too!”

Me: “I’m her supervisor, and she’s under eighteen so she can’t serve alcohol. So no, you can’t.”

He turns around and storms to the counter and returns the pyjamas. 

He storms back towards the front of the store to leave, and as he walks out, he turns over his shoulder. 

Customer: *Sarcastically* “Merry Christmas!”

The bottles of champagne were literally the cheapest available. He could have bought one from the shop right next to us for under £5 and drunk the whole bottle!

Related:
Forgetting The Juicy Details

It’s only my first week of working in customer service, around 2013, and reading this website made me skeptical that people really were as stupid as they are in some of the stories. I’ve just started my shift, and I take my first call.

Me: “Good evening, [Company], [My Name] speaking; how can I help you?”

Customer: “Hi there. I’m looking for an iPod Touch Fourth Generation for my daughter’s birthday. Could I place an order with you?”

Me: “Absolutely, sir. Do you have the catalogue number for that item?”

Customer: *Shouting* “No! But it only took me two minutes to find it, so it shouldn’t take you thirty seconds!”

It takes me about fifteen minutes of in-depth searching, through all available methods, before I figure out the item’s actually discontinued, and he’s looking in a physical catalogue from a year ago.

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but the fourth generation of iPods have now been discontinued. We aren’t going to receive any further stock of this item.”

Customer: *Suddenly calm again* “Oh, okay, sorry for bothering you. Bye!”

I then continue taking calls. After about thirty minutes, I overhear a coworker’s call…

Coworker: “I apologise, sir, but I can’t find any iPod Touch Fourth generations on my system.”

Glancing over, I notice it’s the same customer I had earlier. My coworker manages to come to the same conclusion as I did, and the customer seems satisfied that it’s truly discontinued. Fast forward to ten minutes before I finish.

Me: “Good evening, [Company], [My Name] speaking; how can I help you?”

Customer: “Yes, hi. I’m looking for an iPod Touch Fourth Generation for my daughter’s birthday tomorrow.”

I used to work at a casino. It was a small inner-city place that had just been acquired by a new chain — literally, a chain that was until recently a single venue but then bought four new locations.

Despite expanding, they didn’t really update their methods of running the place. In the age of the iPad, everything still had to be written on paper by the inspectors and then handed to the supervisor hourly for them to put it into the computer, which was nowhere near the actual tables. The company also had a major “do it our way” thing going on — better dealers on paper always went on bigger games even if they weren’t feeling great or were underperforming for whatever reason.

This might not seem important, casino games being games of chance and all, but a dealer that is doing well, going fast and accurately, and getting more individual hands or spins in effectively speeds up the house edge. In short: more games = more money for the house. So, if a dealer who is experienced but also is having a bad day is dealing a big game, they might not be as fast as a less experienced dealer who is doing fine. This didn’t matter to the owners, though; they went only by experience.

We got a new pit boss in; he came from another casino in town as an inspector but then got promoted to fill a vacancy. He did not believe the owners were on the right track with this method, so he fairly openly took care of the dealers. We all loved him; breaks came regularly, he could put us on quieter tables if we weren’t feeling great, and he’d give us big games if we were up to it. Unfortunately, he did this fairly brazenly, so management caught wind. He was put on two-month probation, in which he was supervised directly so he had to do everything by the book.

His results — how much money we made on his shifts — promptly collapsed. He had been doing better than most of the other pit bosses, but over those two months, he fell to the back of the pack.

At the end of this period, management went over the results with him. Armed with evidence that his method was better, he asked if they really thought he should stick to doing things their way.

Management’s answer was still a yes.

He learned to keep his methods a little more under wraps after that.