(It’s the holiday season and I’m shopping for gifts at one of the huge national upscale mall department stores. My parents are comfortably well-off and don’t have many hobbies or interests, so are extremely difficult to shop for; since we all have money, gift cards seem silly and impersonal. After a lot of searching, I stumble onto a gadget that I think Dad will find useful. It is low-priced, but it suits the two genuine hobbies/interests Dad has and I think he would really appreciate the gift, so I’m quite pleased with my find. I go to the counter to pay for it.)

Employee: *while ringing up my purchase and taking my money* “Wow, quite a cheap gift. Don’t you think you should get them something better?”

Me: *speechless*

(Nothing further was said by either of us. The guy ruined my shopping experience and nearly made me cry. And his idea of holiday spirit seemed quite ironic: money is everything… I wish in retrospect I’d let a manager know the kinds of things their employees say to customers in a very misguided attempt to encourage more spending. I never set foot in that store again.  My dad did like the gift and used it often.)

(A lady has been in our store for nearly seven hours and is very chatty, often stopping employees from finishing their work because she wants to talk. It’s about five ’til closing when she finally comes up to the registers. I’m helping put away clothes nearby when the transaction is being finished and when things start to go down hill.)

Cashier: “Your total for the night is $1600.”

(She swipes her charge only to find that it is declined.)

Cashier: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but you still owe $1300. It seems that your credit limit was only $300. Do you have any form of payment?”

Customer: “No, that’s the only card I brought tonight.”

(At that point the manager has to void the whole thing out and we then have to re-ring everything.)

Manager: “Ma’am, do you want us to put this on hold so you can come back another day to decide which items you want?”

Customer: “No, I’ll decide now.”

Manager: “Well, we are already way past closed and we have to be out of the building by 10:15 or else the alarms get turned on.”

Customer: “No, I’ll do it now.”

(She then keeps chatting away, seemingly oblivious as to how pissed we all are at her, since now no employee can leave until she’s gone. At the end of the night she makes this comment:)

Customer: “Gosh, you’d think I was the most wretched customer of the day. What did I even do?”

(I work in the clothing section of a well-known department store chain. A woman approaches my register wanting to return a shipping order.)

Customer: “I ordered these four [Brand] jeans online, but they sent me the wrong ones.” She shows me a pair she had grabbed from the display. “These are the ones I wanted.”

Me: “I’m so sorry about the mix-up. Let me look up the UPC number and re-order them for you.”

(I scan the ones she grabbed, and notice the UPC number is the same as the ones she’s returning.)

Me: “Ma’am, it looks like these are the same as the ones you have now.”

Customer: “No, they’re different. I don’t want to argue with you about it.”

Me: “Okay, was it a problem with the size? Sometimes there are fluctuations between different styles.”

Customer: “No, I tried them on. They fit right.”

Me: “Well, the color is blue-black. Did you want a different color?”

Customer: “No, that’s fine.”

Me: “And they’re both the curvy/straight leg cut. Were you looking for something else?”

Customer: “No, that’s the cut I want.”

Me: *at a loss* “Well, ma’am, they have the same UPC, and the color and cut are the same. I can assure you these jeans are the same as the ones you ordered-”

Customer: *irritated* “No, they are NOT the same. Look—” *she shows me the ironed-on label on the inside of the waistband of the jeans she ordered* “THIS says ‘[Brand] jeans petite.’” She shows the label on the one she grabbed from the display. “And THIS ONE says ‘[Brand] petite denim.’ THESE were the ones I ordered, and THESE are the ones I want. I want you to order me the right ones.”

(I’m speechless for a moment, and I can already tell the situation is only going to go downhill from here. I try to give her the benefit of the doubt and explain as kindly as I can.)

Me: “I’m sorry for the confusion, ma’am, but the reason the inside label looks different is just because [Brand] updated the design recently. I promise you they’re all the same cut—”

Customer: “I don’t want to argue with you about it. Just order me the ones I want.”

Me: “Ma’am, they all have the same UPC number. I can order four more for you, but there’s no way to guarantee whether you’ll get the old or new label design.”

Customer: “Get me your manager!”

(I give up and call a manager down. The customer begins her spiel about how the jeans are DIFFERENT, and how they sent her the wrong ones. My manager looks at the jeans, and then looks at me over the customer’s shoulder, a ‘What the hell?’ expression on her face. I mouth the words ‘THEY’RE THE SAME’ to her, rolling my eyes. I show my manager the UPC labels.)

Manager: “Again, we’re sorry, but like my associate said, it’s just a new label design. The jeans themselves are exactly the same.”

(We process the customer’s return while she throws a fit about our horrible customer service. She demands both our names, and the phone numbers of the head store manager as well as corporate. Taking her return receipt, she finishes with what she imagines is a crushing blow: “I worked for [Other Famous Department Store] for fifteen years, and we were always on top of things like this!”   I manage to keep a straight face until she leaves, and then turn to my manager with an incredulous look.)

Me: *deadpan* “She’s trying to claim a store that’s been in the red since the 1980s is ‘on top of things’?”

Manager: “Maybe that’s when she started working there.”

(I, my mom, and sister are out shopping for Easter dresses and having no luck at all. We’re all pretty short.)

Me: *seeing some cute children’s dresses* “Why can’t they make those in our size’s or shrink us to kids sizes?”

Mom: “[My Name], we’re already short enough!”

(I am so sick and tired of fake laughing at this same joke. This time I play stupid. I am using a machine to check some bills for authenticity.)

Customer: “Are they good? I just made them this morning!”

Me: *stern, serious look on my face* “You printed these bills yourself?”

Customer: “Uh, no, I… Hehe, it was a joke.”

Me: “You realize printing counterfeit bills is a very serious felony? You could go to jail for 14 years.”

Customer: “Yes, I, uh… but they’re good, right? I was kidding.”

Me: “You’re lucky my machine isn’t showing any signs that they are counterfeit. But you should be more careful next time; it’s not something to joke about.”

(The customer nodded gravely, and left with his purchase and change. I don’t think I’ll be hearing that joke from him again!)