Unfiltered Story #158351

, , | | Unfiltered | July 20, 2019

I had been help a customer with questions about our site and everything was normal until the end of the chat.

Me: Is there anything else I can help you with?
Customer: do have any other questions?
Me: I am sorry but I do not understand your question. Can you please elaborate?
Customer: is there anything else I can help you with?
Customer: hope that i answered all you questions
Customer: byebye
Me: Have a nice night

Her Vision Is Electric

, , | | Right | July 9, 2019

(I’m answering the phone at work. After the introductions:)

Client: “I would like to postpone my appointment.”

Me: “Let’s see what we can do for you. Did you have an appointment with our carpenter, our plumber, or our electrician?”

Client: *without missing a beat* “The optician!”

(A moment of silence followed and before I could ask again, the customer realized her slip-up. She meant the electrician.)

Retail Workers Should Be Eligible For Sainthood

, , , , , | | Hopeless | June 22, 2019

I’m the silly/stupid customer in this one. I’ve gone into a local superstore to return some things for my mum, who is on holiday out of the country. She’s left me with a decent number of items and receipts, and though most of them are pre-sorted, this particular bag isn’t. Here’s where it comes to me being stupid: one receipt is taped to one item, so I assume the other items are all on the second receipt… without actually checking for myself.

I head to the service desk and try to make small talk with the only cashier there, who strikes me as one of those “I’ve worked in retail too long to give a s***” types — very no-nonsense. She scans the first receipt and the item it’s taped to, then scans the second receipt and starts in on the rest of the items. In a rare stroke of luck, I am the only person in line, save for an elderly lady who let me go ahead because she was organizing her items — like I should have. Of course, we come to realize that the items are mixed up, some on the first receipt, others on the second. Then, the machine the cashier is working on goes a bit haywire. I take a brief glance behind me and realize that we’ve gone from one person in line to about eleven.

I’m naturally an anxious person and quite apologetic, so when a young fellow five people back starts saying things like, “D***, I could’ve gone outside and had a smoke!” I begin to apologize quietly to my cashier, shifting from foot to foot, generally trying to shrink into an invisible turtle shell.

She waves it off the first couple times, but by the end of our transaction she looks up and in the most mellow, deadpan voice says, “Look, if they’re going to complain, they can just go to another [Store] and do their returns there. Don’t worry about it.”

The fellow behind me doesn’t say another word, and the lady and I have a laugh as another cashier comes to man the second return till. I’ve read plenty of stories here about customers easing the nerves of retail workers but rarely is it the other way around. I can’t thank her enough for putting up with my incompetence and making an anxious gal’s day a little better. Whoever you are, you have the patience of a saint, and may all your customers treat you with the respect you deserve!

No Reply I Can Give That You’d Be Happy With

, , , , | Right | May 5, 2019

(I work for the customer service of a web-store. I get this call:)

Client: “I keep on mailing, but I just won’t get a reply!”

Me: “That is strange; all mails are answered.”

Client: “Oh, so, he’s doing this on purpose?!”

Me: “Let me look into your file… No, I don’t see any emails. I don’t think we received any. Where did you mail to?”

Client: “To Mister No-Ree-Plee.”

Me: “I don’t know that name; which department is he from?”

Client: “How should I know?! He always mails me when I order something, but never responds when I mail back.”

Me: *things start to clear* “Sir… are you talking about our ‘No Reply’ email address?”

Client: “Well, maybe you pronounce it like that… Go talk to him!”

Me: “Sir… ‘No Reply’ means you can’t respond to this email. If you want to contact customer service, you should use [address].”

Client: “Well, how was I supposed to know that?! And who have I been mailing with, then?!”

Me: “That would be our computer, then.”

Client: “Can’t you tell him to mail back that I used the wrong address?!”

That’s Not The Ticket To A Resolution

, , , | Legal | April 24, 2019

(My former employer shares one very large parking lot with two other large stores. The borough owns the lot and does not want large vehicles like tractor trailers and motorhomes parking there overnight, so they have large yellow signs with black print and reflective edges at every entrance and exit, stating that these vehicles will be ticketed and possibly towed at the owner’s expense. There is a second sign below the first stating that there is a truck stop just down the road with a free shuttle service between the truck stop and our store. One summer day, I am working at the customer service desk alone when an irate driver comes up.)

Driver: *waves a small tan envelope in my face* “This is bulls***!” *opens the envelope, brandishing a parking ticket* “It says I can’t park my rig here? I always park at [Supercenter]!”

Me: “Some [Supercenter]s own the parking lots by their stores, but unfortunately, we do not. Our lot is owned by the borough—“

Driver: “I always park at [Supercenter]! I spend hundreds in your stores every week!”

Me: “I apologize, sir, but the borough does not allow large vehicles to park in our lot. There is a truck stop about a mile down the road with a free shuttle service to our store.”

Driver: “How am I supposed to know I can’t park here?”

Me: “There are signs posted at every entrance and exit of the lot.”

Driver: “Every other [Supercenter] in the universe lets me do it!”

Me: *losing my patience* “As I said, sir, we do not own the parking lot. You’ll have to take it up with the local police. I can give you their number if you’d like.”

Driver: “Take it back.”

Me: “I can’t. You can contact the police department but—“

Driver: “No. You will take this back. I’m not paying this f****** ticket.”

Me: “[Supercenter] has nothing to do with the police department issuing parking tickets.”

Driver: “Well, you can go f*** yourself. I’m not paying.”

(The man ripped up the ticket and blew the shreds in my face before storming out. I swept up the pieces, put them in another envelope, and contacted a manager to ask what to do with the shreds; she took them and contacted the police, who sent over an officer to collect the pieces. The officer laughed when I told him the story, saying he was the one who’d issued the ticket. It was only $10.)

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