Forgetting The Juicy Details, Part 2

, , , , , , , | Right | December 24, 2020

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

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He Is Never Going To Touch This Touch

, , , , | Right | August 24, 2020

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.”

 

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Relegating That Pit Boss To The Pit

, , , , , , | Working | July 16, 2020

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.

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A Pretty Woman Moment To Remember

, , , , , , | Working | November 13, 2019

A group of friends and I are into the alternative fashion style — big boots, Gothic dresses, lace, and corsets. We go into a popular high street store as I am getting married and we need some classy, normal-style dresses for bridesmaid dresses.

As soon as we walk into the shop, we are watched by a member of the staff who stands glaring at us from the counter. Whenever we pick up a dress to look at it, she moves closer to us, glaring. Keep in mind that there are six in the group in different sizes all looking to get the same style of dress. She doesn’t offer to help, stops other staff from helping us, and just stands there glaring.

We find dresses in the same style that can fit all six and go and ask to try them on. She snatches the dresses from our hands says, “These won’t suit you or even fit, and I doubt you can afford them, either.” These dresses cost £75 each and there are six of us. I am paying for them all and in cash. I was prepared to pay out over £500 for all of the dresses, so I have this cash on me.

I pulled the cash out, show the staff member, and say, “You mean this money?” Her whole attitude changes and she becomes very helpful. We all exchange a look. I say, “Because of your poor customer service we have changed our mind,” and we just walk out, leaving her to put away six dresses. If she had been nicer and less suspicious of us, she would have made a big sale.

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Welcome To Apocalypse-Mart, Part 2

, , , , , | Right | August 29, 2019

(I work in a large call center for an international grocery store. It’s my first week, and I’ve just finished helping an old lady with her query.)

Customer: “Thank you so much, young man! I have to ask though, young man, do you believe in our Lord Jesus Christ?”

(I remember back to my training, where I was told to avoid all religious discussion.)

Me: “I don’t think that’s relevant to me helping you today, ma’am. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

Customer: “Now, young man! I need to know if I was helped by a Christian or by a heathen!”

(I look over to my supervisor, who’s been listening in to the whole conversation. He gives me a thumbs up and a wink.)

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I am an atheist.”

Customer:Heathen! You will burn in Hell if you do not accept the Lord as your savior! I demand to speak to your supervisor at once!

Me: “I’ll be glad to do that for you, ma’am. Give me a moment.”

(From this point on, I can only hear my supervisor speaking…)

Supervisor: “Yes, ma’am, I hear you have a complaint about one of my employees?” *pause* “I see.” *pause* “That’s terrible.” *pause* “I apologise, ma’am, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to terminate the call. I’ve just been told it is time for our hourly sacrifice to Satan.”

(The woman’s response is loud enough for me to hear over his headset.)

Customer: “HEATHENS!” *click*

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