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 is Christmas time and our lines are packed. I have just finished ringing up this somewhat old woman and I tell her the total:

Customer: “Okay, that’s on credit.”

Me: “All right, swipe your card there, ma’am.”

Customer: “No.”

Me: “Would you like for me to enter the numbers here, ma’am?”

Customer: “No, I don’t. That’s how the government tracks you. I don’t want them to know where I shop or what I buy.”

Me: “Well, then, this purchase will be unable to be made through credit.”

Customer: “This is discrimination. How dare you not take my credit card just because it’s an inconvenience?! Get me a manager. Someone that knows how to do this job.”

I call the manager on duty and she explains the situation to him.

Manager: “I’m terribly sorry, but if we don’t have your permission to swipe or enter the card information, then this cannot be purchased through credit.”

Customer: “Why, I can’t believe service these days! Don’t want my money, fine. I’ll shop at [Rival Store]; they actually care about us!”

I’m one of the groomsmen in my buddy’s wedding this weekend, and today I went to pick up my tuxedo from the rental store. There were no issues, everything fit perfectly, and I had already paid in full during the initial fitting a month ago. I’ve got a somewhat unusual body shape; I’m six feet tall, but most of my height is my torso. During the fitting, I had the same pant length as one of the other groomsmen, who is significantly shorter than me.

A half-hour later, the best man texts me to remind me to pick up my tux. I tell him that I already did, and he says that he is at the store and was told I haven’t been in to pick it up yet. Confused, I call the store.

Employee: “Hello, this is [Rental Store]; how can I help you?”

Me: “Hey, I was just in and picked up my tux. It was under [My Name]. But my buddy [Best Man] was told I haven’t picked it up yet, and I just wanted to make sure everything was kosher.”

Employee: “Someone else got your tuxedo?”

Me: “No, I got my tuxedo, but I guess someone told him I hadn’t?”

Employee: “So you got someone else’s tuxedo?”

Me: “No, it’s mine. It fits fine, and the colors are right. I doubt it’d fit anyone else, anyway.”

Employee: “So… what did you want me to do?”

Me: *Pause* “I’ve just realized how pointless this call is.”

The employee had a good laugh, I apologized profusely, and now I can never rent a suit from that store again without feeling profoundly embarrassed.

I don’t actually work in this clothing store, but I work in the facility immediately next to it and get along very well with their staff. We sometimes have customers for the clothing store come to us for assistance, since we are in the same building.

The clothing shop is very small, with rarely more than two people ever working there at once. Therefore, if the staff take their lunch or ever have to go back into the shelves where they cannot see the front counter, they place a sign either stating when they will be back from lunch or inviting customers to use the phone near the front counter to dial the extension for the back of the shop to request help. These signs are large and centrally placed.

I frequently have customers like these.

Customer #1: “Excuse me, is [Clothing Store] open? There’s no one at the counter.”

Me: “Yes, they are. Did you see a sign at the front counter?”

Customer #1: “Yes. It said I should call a number for help.”

Me: “And did you see the phone at the counter?”

Customer #1: “Yes… Can you call them?”

Me: “No… I don’t work in [Clothing Store]. You’re more than welcome to use the phone at their counter. That’s why it’s there.”

Or:

Customer #2: “Excuse me! [Clothing Store] says that they’re closed for lunch!”

Me: “Yes, the sign should say what time they’ll be back.”

Customer #2: “Yes, it does, but I need help now! Can’t you help me?”

Me: “No… I don’t work for [Clothing Store]. Sorry. You’re more than welcome to wait. They usually are back a little early from lunch when they’re closed like this.”

Customer #2: “But I need help now!”

Me: “I’m very sorry, but there’s nothing I can do. You’re more than welcome to wait, or come back later. But I don’t work in [Clothing Store]. I work here.”

Or:

Customer #3: “Is [Clothing Store] closed?”

Me: “I don’t think so. Is there a sign on the front counter?”

Customer #3: “I don’t know.”

Me: *Stepping away from my counter* “Let’s see…”

I point out the painfully-hard-to-miss sign.

Me: “Oh, look. They just stepped away for a minute. If you give them a call, someone will be up to help you.”

Customer #3: “Oh.”

Related:
It’s A Very Bad Signs

This happened to my wife in her first job. She was sixteen at the time.

In this clothes store, all kinds of people came because they had a large collection and lots of stuff to complement the clothes. Also, all ages and sizes could buy stuff here.

One slow day, my wife is on the floor with a colleague. Two customers come in: one very pregnant woman, looking hot and miserable, and a regular customer that often spends a lot of money there.

In the store, everybody works on commission, so the employees are always happy to see this customer, and she often asks specifically for my wife to help her.

My wife’s colleague jumps and runs to be sure to be able to help the regular customer and my wife gets stuck with the mother-to-be.

Not a nice move by the colleague, but what can you do? Well, this.

My wife approaches the pregnant woman.

Wife: “Would you like to take a seat and have a glass of water?”

She is very happy to accept and visibly relieved to get off her feet. Then, my wife asks about the pregnancy, expected delivery, sex of the baby, and stuff like that.

Pregnant Customer: “I’m actually here to shop for the baby; I have almost nothing bought yet!”

Wife: “Can I make some suggestions?”

Then, my wife went around the store and gathered lots of clothes and baby stuff. The woman could take her pick, could use the bathroom, and could keep sitting and be comfortable all afternoon. She ended up buying almost all of the stuff for the baby she needed — some toys, cute stuff for the nursery, etc. — and gave a big tip to my wife for all the help.

And the regular? She bought a skirt and left quickly.

My wife’s colleague was curious and went to their supervisor, claiming that my wife stole her customer. But too bad for her, the supervisor had seen what happened and told her off. My wife was complimented for treating a customer so well and making such a good sale.

My wife and her colleague were never really friends after that, but my wife soon found a better job.