Having A Grande Old Time

, , , , | Right | September 11, 2017

Me: “Thank you for choosing your local [coffee shop]. What can I get started for you?”

Customer: *yelling* A grande vanilla latte!”

Me: “Okay, a grande van—”

Customer: *angrily* “I’m not done! I want that absolutely no foam, and with whipped cream!”

Me: “All righty, a gran—”

Customer: “I am not done! It has to have three honeys in it, with cinnamon and nutmeg!”

Me: “Would you like that sprinkled on top, or steamed into the milk?”

Customer: “On top! Steamed in is disgusting!”

Me: “You got it. A grande vanilla latte, with three honeys—”

Customer: *condescendingly* “I said, NO FOAM!”

Me: “Ma’am, I am repeating your entire drink order back to you to ensure that it is correct, and I was not finished. You have ordered a grande vanilla latte, with three honeys, no foam, with whipped cream, and cinnamon and nutmeg on top. Is that correct?”

Customer: “Yes!”

Me: “Perfect. Is there anything else I can get you?”

Customer: “A venti peach citrus infusion with no ice!”

Me: “Did you want—”

Customer: “Make sure there’s no ice! I’m not drinking it now!”

Me: “Did you want that sweet, or unsweet?”

Customer: “Sweet! It’s not worth drinking if it isn’t!”

Me: “Absolutely. Is there anything else I can get for you tonight?”

Customer: “No!”

Me: “Fantastic, we’ll see you at the window with your total.”

Customer: “Repeat my drinks again!” *haughtily* “I don’t think you got them right!”

Me: “It’ll be [total], around the corner!”

(She keeps demanding her drinks repeated, but my baristas and I ignore her. Finally, she pulls up to the window.)

Customer: “You need to remake my drinks! You wouldn’t repeat them, and you have them wrong!”

Me: “I have a grande vanilla latte, three honeys, absolutely no foam, with whip, cinnamon and nutmeg sprinkled on top, and a venti peach citrus infusion, sweetened, but with no ice, because you aren’t drinking it now. Are these the correct drinks?”

Customer: “That’s what I ordered, isn’t it?”

Me: “Then it will be [total].”

(She grumbles, pays, and receives her drinks.)

Customer: “This can’t be mine! There are no stickers!”

Me: “I made them as you ordered them, ma’am, before the stickers were printed. I hope you enjoy your drinks, and have a lovely evening.”

Customer: “I want to speak to your manager! You have been rude, and you made my drinks wrong!”

Me: *smiling sweetly, as my patience has finally paid off* “Ma’am, I AM the manager.”

(She goes completely white, and speeds away. Five minutes later, I get handed the phone by one of my baristas.)

Me: “This is [Name], how may I help you?”

Familiar Voice: “You’re the manager?”

Me: “Yes, ma’am?”

Customer: “You have a horrific barista in your drive through, claiming to be you! She was so rude! She kept interrupting, and she made my drinks wrong, and I want a refund and an apology!”

Me: “Did you have the grande vanilla latte, with three honeys, absolutely no foam, with whipped cream, cinnamon and nutmeg on top, with a venti peach citrus, sweetened, with no ice, because you aren’t drinking it now?”

Customer: *somehow still oblivious* “Yes! So, she told you about me! I want her fired for gossiping about customers!”

Me: “Actually, ma’am, that was me in the drive through, and I am the one who made your drinks to your exact specifications.”

Customer: “I asked for the manager, not the rude b**** in the drive through!”

Me: “Ma’am, that ‘rude b****’ is still me, and I am still the manager. Given that you have now escalated to verbal abuse, I will be putting in a report to corporate, and I am terminating this call.”

Customer: *starts screaming unintelligibly*

Me: *click*

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Screen Out The Customers Offended By Screens

, , | Right | September 11, 2017

(I am standing behind the desk, inputting stock data into the computer inventory, when a customer approaches the desk. I enter the last number on the stock item – less than one second – and look up.)

Me: “Hi, how can I help?”

Customer: “You can start by dragging your eyes away from that screen you seem so glued to.”

Me: “I’m sorry? I—”

Customer: “It’s extremely rude to keep playing your computer games when there’s someone waiting to be served. I don’t appreciate being ignored.”

Me: “Ma’am, I’m very sorry you felt ignored. It wasn’t intentional and I apologise. It won’t happen again. Now, what can I do for you?”

Customer: *huffs and puffs and heaves a big sigh* “I’m looking for [Book] by [Author]. I can’t seem to find it on the shelves. Do you have it in stock?”

Me: *turning to the computer monitor* “Let me look it up for you.”

Customer: “You’re doing it AGAIN!”

Will Leave You Handshaken

, , , , , | Right | September 10, 2017

(The clock has just hit five pm, and a lot of our out-of-uniform stock workers are turning up. To customers, these workers appear as random other customers, as they are simply wearing casual clothes. I am working behind the counter of our printing section, in uniform. A good friend and coworker of mine comes through the counter, out of uniform. There are no customers in line, so my friend and I do a stupid handshake. Thirty seconds later, out of nowhere, a line of about five customers forms. A senior lady who has a medical face mask on approaches me.)

Lady: “That was a cool handshake!”

Me: *realizing she must have seen it, trying to be friendly* “Yeah, I guess you could say that!”

Lady: “Is that how you normally greet your customers? I want one!”

Me: “No, he’s actually a worker here—”

Lady: *cuts me off* “No, no, no… I WANT one. I want that greeting!” *she holds out her fist for a fist-bump while moving closer towards me*

Me: *I can feel the eyes of the customers in line staring, observing this bizarre interaction, so I try play it off politely.* “Ah, sorry, I reserve those greetings for friends.”

(She’s still edging ever-so-slightly forward with her fist out.)

Lady: *by this point, she’s behind the printing counter with me* “Is this how you guys did it?”

Me: *I’m trying to think how to get this lady away from me quickly and quietly, so I decide to give her a fist bump in the hopes she will move along…* “Uh, yes, here you … go?” *fist bump*

(Customers are all watching, like a small crowd.)

Lady: *laughs maniacally* “Ah, that was wonderful, I feel so young!”

Me: *Thinking that that’s enough, and this lady is completely insane.* “Is there something else I can help you with?”

Lady: “No, that will suffice for the day.” *stares into my soul via my eyes*

Me: *hoping she’ll move on out from behind the counter* “Okay, then!”

(I wait for her to move along, but she doesn’t. She moves further into my department.)

Me: “Excuse me, ma’am? You can’t go that way. You’ll need to move out from this area, I’m afraid.”

Lady: “Oh.” *mumbles something I can’t comprehend*

(She finally moves away and I turn to face the line of customers and ask, “Who was next please?” as I try act like nothing strange has happened.)

Next Customer: “What the h*** was that all about…”

Dress Down For Lunch Or You’ll Get A Good Dressing

, , , , , , | Right | September 8, 2017

(I’m on a 30-minute lunch break at the grocery store where I work. I’m still in my apron, I am standing in a checkout line holding food and a drink to buy, and I am on my phone. A customer approaches me.)

Customer: “Excuse me, do you work here?”

Me: “Yes, I do, sir.”

Customer: “Do you know where salad dressing is?”

Me: “Of course, it’ll be to your left on aisle one.”

Customer: “Come show me!”

(I decide not to tell him that I’m on a lunch break, and decide that it’ll be easier to just lead him to the aisle. I show him to the correct spot, and am about to leave and go get in line again when he says:)

Customer: “I need you to pick some salad dressings out for me.”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Customer: “I’m on a fast and can’t have eggs, cheese, or dairy. I need you to pick some out for me and read me the ingredients.”

(By this point I’m a bit alarmed and confused, but I decide to help him further. I pick him out a lovely balsamic vinaigrette and read the ingredients.)

Me: “This one doesn’t have any eggs, milk, or dairy in it.”

Customer: “Really? No eggs?”

Me: “No.”

Customer: “No milk?”

Me: “No.”

Customer: “No dairy?”

Me: “Nope.”

Customer: “Okay, pick me out another one.”

(I do, and after reading the ingredients again, I hand the bottle to the customer and make sure that the back of it with the ingredients list is facing him. He briefly looks over it.)

Customer: “Okay, I’ll get this one.”

Me: “Great choice, sir. Have a wonderful day.”

(Needless to say, I practically inhaled my lunch when I got up to the break room. That’s the last time I’ll ever wear my apron/name tag on a lunch break again.)

Getting Shirty About The Dress

, , , , | Right | September 8, 2017

(I’m 16 years old and have been working at my first job, a popular teen clothing store, for a couple months. A woman approaches me asking for help locating an item.)

Customer: “I was just in here a couple days ago, and my daughter saw this shirt she wanted, so I came back to buy it for her birthday, but I can’t find it.”

Me: “Great! Can you describe it for me?”

Customer: “It was blue.”

Me: “What shade of blue? We have all kinds of blue shirts, from pastel to navy.”

Customer: “I don’t know. Maybe it wasn’t blue… maybe it was white?”

Me: “Hmm, all right. We’ve got a few light blue shirts over here.”

(I take her around the store, showing her a few options.)

Customer: “No, it isn’t any of these.”

Me: “No problem, we’ve got a bunch of blue or white shirts all over the store. Do you remember if it had any patterns or designs on it?”

Customer: “Yeah, I think so. Maybe.”

Me: “…Okay, what colors were in the pattern or design?”

Customer: “I don’t know.”

Me: “All right, how about this. What style was the shirt? Was it form-fitting or loose, with long sleeves or short sleeves?”

Customer: “I have no idea. It may have been a dress.”

(Trying very hard not to show my frustration, I decide to let her browse, since she has no idea what she’s looking for.)

Me: “The majority of our dresses are on this rack here, and the shirts are spread out all over the store. I’d also check the clearance racks to see if you find something that looks familiar. I’m not really sure what shirt or dress you’re looking for, so please feel free to look around and let me know if there is anything else I can do for you, or if you remember any details.”

Customer: “You just had a it a few days ago! How can you not know where it is?”

Me: “It’s possible that I do know where the item is, but your description matches nearly half the store. It could be anywhere. If you can’t give me more details about it, I have to just let you shop so I can help other customers.”

(The customer walks off in a huff, and I see her at the register about 15 minutes later, purchasing several pairs of jeans and a red blouse with no designs on it. She notices me and holds up the shirt.)

Customer: “Hey, look! I found it! It was on the same rack as before!”

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