That Stabbing Pain Is A Customer

, , , , | Right | March 1, 2018

(It’s just after eight am and a slovenly man walks into the shop where I work and asks for a large bottle of vodka that is kept behind the counter. It is illegal in this country to sell alcohol before ten am.)

Coworker: “I’m sorry, sir. I can’t sell you this before ten o’clock.”

Customer: “What?”

Coworker: *points at clock* “We cannot sell alcohol before ten.”

Customer: *suddenly angry* “But I want it.”

Coworker: “I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t sell you this until ten.”

Customer: “I can’t wait until ten; I’m getting the bus in five minutes.”

Coworker: “I’m sorry, sir, but I could be fined up to £5,000 for selling this before the allowed time, and our shop could lose its licence.”

Customer: “I won’t tell anyone.”

Coworker: “That isn’t the issue, sir. It is illegal, and I won’t sell you the alcohol. Our tills won’t even allow them to be scanned before ten o’clock, either, so I cannot process the transaction, even if it weren’t against the law.”

Customer: *irritated* “What if I just leave you the money and you can put it through later?”

Coworker: “That is still an illegal sale and can result in me losing my job.”

Customer: *leans over counter* “I don’t f****** care if it’s illegal; give me the drink or I will f****** stab you!”

(At this point, I am now afraid for the safety of my coworker and I’ve grabbed the phone to call the police. My coworker on the other hand is unfazed, and merely crosses his arms over his chest.)

Coworker: “Well I’m not selling you it. So I guess you’ll just have to stab me.”

Customer: *flustered and red in the face* “Fine!” *leaves the store*

(I ran to the window and, after checking the number of the bus he was getting on, I called the police. He was apprehended by the police twenty minutes later at the next bus stop.)

Making It A Laborious Labor Day

, , , , | Right | March 1, 2018

(I work at a popular retail chain in the copy and print department. It is Labor Day, so because of shortened hours, I am working from open to close, alone. A very unhappy man wants some flyers printed off of his flash drive.)

Customer: “I want this flyer here printed at a full half-page. I want like 100 or 200 printed.”

Me: *pulls up document, checks the actual size of the image in inches* “Sir, it looks like this image is 5×5 inches, which is a perfect square; without stretching it out of proportion, it won’t fill it. There will be a white border around some of it in order to keep the proportions of the image in check and not obscure it. I can show you the biggest I can print it without stretching it.”

Customer: *silent*

Me: *prints off the sample document and shows it to him*

Customer: “This won’t work; I need it to fill the whole half of the page.”

Me: “The only way that I can do that right now is to put it into Photoshop and stretch it out of proportion in order to fill it.”

Customer: “No! You shouldn’t have to do that! I had this file made specifically for this; there’s nothing wrong with it!”

(My manager has come over because she needs to count the tills and lock the doors.)

Me: “Okay… Well, because the image is square, it won’t fill it without me stretching it, which might make the small words on the bottom here hard to read.”

(I print him a few more sizes as examples. We get probably eight different sizes printed for him.)

Customer: *looks at all the different sizes of images on the paper in front of him* “I don’t feel like you guys are giving me the time of day. There’s a way to do this, but you guys are just making it harder than it really is.”

Me: “Like I said before, in order to meet the criteria of the image you are requesting, I would have to stretch it to fill the half page, because the file is square and the paper is rectangular.”

Customer: “I deserve more attention than this.”

Manager: “I’m sorry, but like she said, it’s not really coming out.”

(I look at the clock and it’s now 6:27, three minutes before I’m supposed to clock out and go home. I haven’t even touched my closing duties because I’ve been helping this guy.)

Me: “It’s 6:27. I need to start cleaning up soon; we’re supposed to be leaving in three minutes.”

(The customer ignores my comment. We print him off some more sizes.)

Customer: “I don’t get why you guys just can’t do this.”

Me: “If you want, I can take down your name and phone number, and I can leave a copy of the image in our customer files. When I come back in the morning, I can make it the correct size, since there isn’t much time tonight to fix the file and print off a hundred flyers.”

Customer: “No, I feel very disrespected. I want my flash drive back.”

Manager: “I’m sorry that you feel that way. We didn’t want to make you feel that way.”

Customer: “Then, why can’t you guys just print it correctly?”

Manager: “It’s just that we closed at six, and it’s a holiday.”

Customer: “Oh, so, you closed at six and it’s a holiday; that’s your excuse. I’m going to make sure you both get written up about this.”

Me: “Yes, we closed over a half hour ago. Did you still want us to try and work on it tomorrow morning?”

Customer: “No! I know there’s nothing wrong with this file. I paid to have it made.”

(The customer storms off towards the doors. My manager follows to she can open the doors and move the gate. As he is leaving, he is making it obvious he is looking for contact information somewhere by the door, and then, thankfully, he wanders off into the night. My manager comes back to the print department.)

Manager: “Well, he was kind of rude, wasn’t he?”

Me: “Yeah, but what can we do?”

(We were both late in starting our closing duties, so we didn’t finish until a half-hour after we were supposed to have already left. My manager said he probably would have been happier had someone with “more technical experience” been working. I don’t know if she meant me or her, but I’ve printed off hundreds of different flyers, so I know how to do it. I might not know every trick in the book. Maybe there was an easier way, but either way, we tried. The next morning I saw my manager again. She told me that she kept waking up last night because of that guy. She was so worried that he was really going to report her that she kept checking our customer survey review website to see if he had anything to say.)

Working On Different Prints-iples

, , , , , | Right | February 27, 2018

(I’m the receptionist for a corporate office. Our company is primarily retail, and we have a customer service line and online chat room, yet people always try to bypass those and call me for help.)

Caller: “I’m looking for a [Popular Artist] print. I tried customer service before, and they told me they had the painting at my local store, but when I got there they were asking $500 for it! I said, ‘I don’t want to buy the whole store!’ you know? Ha ha ha! I want to find a cheaper print.”

Me: “Okay, so, you already checked with customer service?”

Caller: “Yeah, I did, but they sent me to my local store.” *he repeats the above, verbatim*

Me: “Well, I just checked our website, and it looks like there are several different-size prints in stock, so I apologize for the confusion. I’m sure customer service just misunderstood what you wanted. I’ll transfer you back to them—”

Caller: “The confusion is probably because [recently deceased Religious Leader in the area] was a hell-raiser. He probably went in and changed the website to mess with everyone.”

(He laughs as if I’m without a doubt thinking the same thing. Since I’m not sure why he thinks a religious leader would mess with a retail company’s website, and I happened to really respect said recently-deceased religious leader, I don’t laugh.)

Me: “All right, well, let me connect you back to customer service, and they can find that print for you. Or, if they say that we really don’t have it, then you can find all of [Popular Artist]’s works on his website. The web address is—”

Caller: “No, no, no. I don’t do computers.”

Me: “…”

Caller: “And I’ll tell you why! Because I didn’t have them growing up. I didn’t have them in college. I didn’t have them in 45 years of business. So, I don’t do computers. The only time I use a computer is to play solitaire, because that’s all they’re good for. I don’t do computers.”

Me: *pause* “All right, then—”

Caller: “Is there someone intelligent there that I can talk to?”

Me: *through gritted teeth* “Just let me transfer you to customer service.”

Caller: *as if he didn’t just insult me* “Thank you very much for your help, ma’am!”

(Apparently liking computers and not laughing at the expense of the dead makes me unintelligent?)

An Expensive Round Of Ice Creams

, , , , , | Right | February 27, 2018

(A woman comes in with three little boys and one older girl. They get four ice creams, all in our special flavor, and a few water bottles, and they stay around eating for a while so I remember them pretty well. A few hours later, one of the little boys comes back in.)

Boy: “Hi, can I have a receipt from when we were here before?”

Me: “The register will only let me print a receipt from the most recent transaction, so do you mind if I write it by hand?”

Boy: “That’s fine.”

Me: “You had four kiddies and two waters, right?”

Boy: “Yes.”

(I give him the receipt and he leaves. About five minutes later, the one older girl comes in.)

Girl: “I’m sorry, but I need the receipt to say what time we came in.”

Me: “The register won’t let me print your receipt anymore; you were in here hours ago.”

Girl: “Well, can you guess what time we were here and write it down?”

Me: “I’m sorry; I have no idea when you were here.”

Girl: “Well, we locked our dog in the car, and he died, and now the police are after us, so we have to prove we weren’t in the ice cream store for too long.”

Me: “Yeah, I can’t help you.”

Will Not March To The Beat Of Their Drum(stick)

, , , , | Right | February 27, 2018

(Chicken drumsticks were on sale the previous week for a dollar off per pound.)

Customer: “I’ll take ten pounds of drumsticks. These are on sale, right?”

Me: “No, sir. That was last week, sorry. This week they’re back to regular price.”

Customer: “That’s okay; just give them to me for the sale price.”

Me: “Unfortunately, I’m not able to do that, sir. The sale is over. Do you still want them?”

Customer: *waves impatiently* “Just change the price; I know you can.”

Me: “Uh, no. Actually, I can’t.”

Customer: *rolls eyes* “Just do it!”

Me: “Sir, the prices are downloaded into the scales from a central computer. I just punch in the product code. The price is what it is.”

Customer: “You can override it. Do you think I don’t know that?”

Me: “Well, that’s more than I know.”

(Even the department manager can’t override the prices, and I’m just a clerk.)

Customer: “Just do it!”

Me: “Even if I could do that, which I can’t, please explain to me why it would be worth losing my job just to save you a few dollars?”

Customer: “I know the owner.”

Me: “Oh, yes? Well, Mr. [Owner] knows a lot of people. I know him myself, and I don’t get to name my own prices in the store.” *smiling*

Customer: “Very funny. He’s a good friend of mine.”

Me: “Oh! Well, in that case, there’s no problem!”

Customer: “Aha! I knew it!”

Me: “Sure! You just call up your good friend and have him arrange a discount for you.”

Customer: “…”

Me: “You have his number, of course?”

Customer: *pause* “Just give me five pounds of drumsticks.”

Me: “Sure thing!” *bags and weighs* “That comes to [regular price]. Have a great day!”

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