Belting Out All The Excuses

, , , | Right | May 1, 2018

(I’m one of the main employees in our men’s department, and before that I was a cashier. Our youngest, newest cashier calls me over to help with an older woman’s exchange. There are three belts on the counter, two tagged and one untagged.)

Cashier: “We’re trying to do a non-receipted return to exchange this belt for that belt, but there isn’t a tag.”

Customer: “I bought them for my husband, but he got sick and he lost a lot of weight, so now these don’t fit him. He didn’t even get a chance to wear them, see?”

(She shuffles around the belts while saying this, making it hard to tell which is the one she bought and which is the new one.)

Me: “Okay, ma’am, do you have the receipt?”

Customer: “No, I can’t find it. But I found this belt—” *holds up one of them* “—so can’t we just exchange it?”

Me: “Sorry, these are separate belts, so the computer recognizes them as different and we have to ring them up.” *looks at the back of the belt* “Wait, this still has the manufacturer’s tag. Try scanning that; they usually work for belts.”

(The cashier scans the belt, and it comes up at $0.01, which means it’s marked out of stock and we can’t return it.)

Me: “Sorry, ma’am, this came up out of stock; we can’t return it for you.”

Customer: “But it hasn’t been used!” *she repeats her whole story* “Can’t you just exchange it for this belt?”

Me: “I’m sorry, but these are clearly different belts by separate brands.” *I point out how the belt buckles differ* “And our store policy states that we can’t return anything that’s been marked out of stock without a receipt.”

Customer: “Wait, wait, let me take a look.” *she takes out her wallet, goes through a pouch that’s neatly filled with various receipts, and pulls one out after maybe five seconds of searching* “Is that the right receipt?”

Me: “It is!” *looks at date* “Ma’am, this receipt is over two years old.”

Customer: “So? I have the receipt!”

Me: “Ma’am, our return policy only lasts 60 days. It’s written on the receipt. After 60 days, we can only return for store credit at the current selling price, and we can’t return merchandise that’s been marked out of stock, at all.”

Customer: “But I have a receipt!”

Me: “I’m sorry. Sometimes the managers will stretch things if it’s a few days past the date, but this is more than two years past when you should have returned it. Even if we could, you’d only get a penny.”

Customer: “But it’s a [Brand] belt! You still have them back there; I just looked!”

Me: “We may still have the brand, but we don’t have that particular belt. I just finished organizing them all by type the other day; we don’t have any like that. That’s what ‘marked out of stock’ means.”

(The customer begins yelling about how she found it in her closet that morning and her husband hadn’t even taken it out of the bag, and repeating the story that he’s been sick. She’s holding up the line, and the poor cashier looks like she might cry.)

Me: “Do you want me to call a manager for you?”

Customer: “Yes! This is a disgrace!”

(I call a manager over. She listens to the story, looks at the receipt and the register, and proceeds to repeat everything I just said about our return policy.)

Customer: “Now what am I supposed to do?”

Manager: “We usually recommend that customers donate items we can’t return.”

(The customer leaves in a huff.)

Me: “Well, I’m glad that at least her husband’s feeling better!”

In A Pickle Pickle

, , , | Right | May 1, 2018

(While I am working the cash register, a woman comes in and orders a portion of chips and two pickled onions, which are taken out of a jar beside the till. Upon receiving her order, she leaves, only to return several moments later. There are four customers waiting for their orders standing at the back of the shop.)

Customer: “Yeah, I have a complaint.”

Me: “Oh, what seems to be the problem?”

(The customer opens their chip box.)

Customer: “Why is one of my pickles smaller than the other?”

Me: *trying to contain laughter* “I’m sorry, what?”

Customer: “My pickles. One is smaller than the other; I want different pickles”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but the onions are selected at random.” *pointing to the jar and then to the queue forming behind her* “I’m afraid I don’t have time to rifle through the jar to find similar-sized onions, and I cannot take those back.”

(The customer glares at me before storming out. The customers who are waiting, my boss, my coworker, and I burst into laughter as the customer behind her steps forward.)

Customer #2: “How petty can some people be? Really, complaining about the size of her onions?”

The New Jurassic Park Is Now In Indianapolis

, , , , | Right | April 30, 2018

(I work in a zoo. We offer free dolphin show tickets for the guests, and many times we run out. On this day, a customer comes up to my ticket booth.)

Guest: “Are there any more dolphin show tickets left?”

Me: “Unfortunately, no.”

Guest: “Oh, that’s okay. What about the raptor show?”

Me: “Um, I don’t think we have those shows anymore.”

(Considering raptors have been extinct for quite some time…)

Maybe Give Them Some Sleeping Pills

, , , , , , | Right | April 29, 2018

(While working the night shift, around 2:00 am, our store gets a call directed from the “customer service” selection of the menu. As I’m the cashier, I have to answer it.)

Me: “Thank you for calling [Pharmacy Store]. How may I help you?”

Customer: “I need to ask about my mother’s medication.”

Me: “One moment while I connect you with the pharmacist.”

Customer: *angrily* “NO! I do not want to talk to the pharmacist!”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but customer service and the cashier at the front of the store do not have access to medical information.” *gets cut off*

Customer: *clearly annoyed* ” “I have never had customer service like this at [Pharmacy Store] before! Maybe we started out on the wrong foot. Maybe we are just not understanding each other. Maybe we just can’t understand what the other guy wants!”

Me: *still keeping a cool, even tone* “Well, sir, what do you want?”

Customer: *almost yelling* “I want to talk to the pharmacy. I have to ask about my mother’s prescriptions!”

(He specifically said he did not want to talk to the pharmacist earlier in the call.)

Me: “All right, sir. Please stay on the line while I transfer your call.”

(I transfer the call to the pharmacist. Some time later…)

Me: “Did you get that call from the customer?”

Pharmacist: “Oh, yeah. Thanks.”

(I relate how the customer specifically and emphatically pointed out that he did not WANT to talk to the pharmacist, and the exact words he used while complaining about the level of customer service.)

Pharmacist: “Wait. He said that?! As soon as I got on the line with him, he asked me, ‘Don’t you have technicians in your pharmacy?’ I told him, ‘No. Not in the middle of the night, sir.'”

Never Really Getting To The Meat Of The Issue

, , , , , , , | Right | April 27, 2018

(I work in a deli. I can’t go a day without needing to point out to customers that we don’t have pepperoni in the counter. One day, this old man takes it to a whole new level.)

Me: “Hi, what can I get you?”

Customer: *looks at the precut meats in the counter* “I want sliced pepperoni.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but we don’t have any in the counter. We do have some pre-packaged—”

Customer: *cuts me off before I can finish* “This is not pepperoni.” *as he points at the black forest ham*

Me: “No, that’s black forest ham. We have no pepperoni here; you have to buy the bags.”

Customer: *points at the cooked ham* “What about this? This is not pepperoni?”

Me: “No, sir, that’s cooked ham… and the one beside it is pastrami, and the next one is smoked chicken.”

Customer: *points at another meat* “This is not pepperoni?”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but as I said there is absolutely nothing in here that is pepperoni. That’s turkey.”

(This goes on until the customer has pointed at all the meat-shaved bins and our stack of mock chicken, asking if it is all pepperoni.)

Customer: “Oh… What was this one, again?” *pointing at the cooked ham for the third time*

Me: “That’s the cooked ham.”

Customer: “I’ll have 30 cents of that, then.”

(I put one slice on the scale and it comes out to about 50 cents.)

Me: “Is this okay?”

Customer: *yelling at this point* “No! I said 30 cents’ worth! Make the piece smaller!”

(I cut the piece smaller and it comes up to 35 cents; about 10 grams of meat are on the scale at this point.)

Me: “Is this better?”

Customer: *huffs* “Fine. You people here never do things right. I should just shop at [Other Store about a 15-minute walk away].”

(I later told my supervisor, and since I’d only been there a couple of months so far, I wanted to know if stuff like this happened often. He started laughing and saying that this had never happened to him in the past three years he’s worked there.)

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