I work as a customer service representative at a department store. I greet a customer and start the return process. I scan the receipt and the item.

Me: “You’ll be getting $10.60 back.”

Customer: *Taken aback* “That is not how much I paid for these jeans! I know that I paid full price; just look at my receipt.”

I look at the receipt and there is exactly one item on it, so there is no mistake. She paid $10.60 before taxes for the pants. It says, “Clearance,” in bold with the clearance price printed next to it. There is a clearance sticker on the pants. My total matches the receipt total. I show her, and she can’t find where it says, “Clearance,” even with me pointing. I pull out my highlighter and highlight all the relevant information.

The customer looks at the receipt, now with the clearance price and total highlighted in bright yellow.

Customer: “I know I paid full price!”

Because, apparently, the word clearance doesn’t mean anything.

Me: “Well, this is the receipt, and these are, indeed, the pants you purchased.”

After I spent fifteen minutes explaining receipts, clearance prices, and how totals work, she agreed to take her refund back for the amount that her receipt said… which is what I offered her to begin with.

We had a series of tornados in town I didn’t even realize had happened as I was having a nice nap that day and it was on the other side of town. It was close enough that the seasonal greenhouse at the store where I used to work was destroyed. I am talking to my friend and former coworker after the fact.

Friend: “It was kind of scary but not bad. They wouldn’t let people enter or leave the store until the warnings were lifted. They gathered everyone in electronics, the department furthest away from the doors and glass. The power went out for most of the day.”

Me: “That seems sensible.”

Friend: “Yeah, they even started handing out bottles of water when the wait started taking too long.”

Me: “Oh, that’s so nice. Glad management thought of that.”

Friend: “Yeah, they thought of that, but they forgot that all the restrooms have only automatic flush toilets and those don’t work without power.”

Me: “Oh. So, maybe giving everyone extra water wasn’t the best idea.”

I’m working at a branch of a large up-market department store chain in south London. A bloke comes in with a friend, wanting to buy a kettle and asking what the options are for him to pick it up later. I explain that he can pick it up right away as we have them in stock. If he wants to, he can pick it up later in the day from click-and-collect, or for a fee, we can deliver it to his address, provided the address is in the UK or Ireland. He chooses the delivery option.

I put the details of what he wants to buy into the computer and come to the section where I have to put in delivery details. That is where the fun begins.

Me: “Could I ask your address, please?”

Customer: “Why do you want to know my address?”

Me: “Because you said you want it delivered.”

Customer: “But why do you need to know my address?”

Me: “That is how we know where to deliver your package. Otherwise, we won’t know where to deliver it.”

Customer: “But it’s your job to know these things.”

Me: “It’s my job to ask you. I’m not a psychic and I don’t automatically know your address.”

Customer: “But I don’t feel comfortable giving my address out. I don’t know you and I want to preserve my privacy.”

Me: “I understand that, sir, but if you won’t give me your address, then I can’t have your kettle delivered to you. There are twenty million addresses in the UK, and if I pick one at random, chances are it won’t be yours. Now, either you can tell me your address, or you can pick it up at click-and-collect, or you can take it with you now.”

Customer: “You’re an idiot.”

At that point, I’d had enough, and his insult was a good enough pretext to end the conversation. I informed him that I was not going to be taking personal abuse and that I would not be serving him further. He muttered something to his friend and moved away. Thankfully, I never saw him again, and no doubt he went to annoy some other underpaid customer service guy with his tomfoolery until he got his kettle.

I work in a high-end department store. As such, customers can be a little… particular. This is fine, though, as we are used to it and can handle it well. One woman comes in and chooses some very expensive sunglasses. This happens as I’m checking her out.

Customer: “And I would like a fresh pair from the back.”

Me: “Of course, ma’am. Let me go check that we have them.”

I go through our stock, but the only extra pair is also out on the shelf. I bring the extra pair to the register in case she likes the condition of these more. But before I can get a word in, she barks at me:

Customer: “I just saw what you did! You just took those off the shelf!”

Me: “I did, ma’am. These are the only two pairs I have left, but we can easily order you a brand new one if you like.”

Customer: *Grumbles* “Fine, order it.”

I cancel the transaction and start an order when she suddenly speaks up again.

Customer: “No. You know what? Cancel everything. I don’t want them. I saw what you did. I won’t take a used pair!”

She stormed off. I assume she thought I was trying to pass the other pair off as the new pair, but she jumped down my throat before I could explain and then didn’t seem to believe me anyway when I did. Some people can never be pleased.

I’m clothes shopping in the time of the health crisis, so no changing rooms are open. I pick up a jumpsuit I think is cute and buy it, making sure to keep the receipt in case I need to return it. I get home and try it on but it’s too long in the leg so I put it back in the bag. It’s out of the bag for a total of maybe five minutes.

The next day, I go back to the store to return it.

Me: “Hi, I’d like to return this.”

I place the jumpsuit and receipt on the counter.

Assistant: “Okay, I just need to get a supervisor to do that.”

She pages a supervisor, who comes up in a couple of minutes. The supervisor picks at the jumpsuit with the end of her fingers like it’s disgusting.

Supervisor: “Sorry, you can’t return this.”

Me: *Confused* “I only bought it yesterday.”

Supervisor: “It’s not in a resalable condition.”

Me: “I’m sorry?”

Supervisor: “Look here; it’s all dirty.”

She then points at one hair that has stuck to the fabric of the jumpsuit.

Me: “Ummm, okay.”

I was about to protest further when the supervisor walked away. I was furious but I just picked up my stuff and left. When I got home, I picked off the hair and asked my friend who was going into town the next day to see if she could return it. She got the same rude woman who, once again, picked over the item looking for some excuse to refuse the return, but she eventually gave in and did it.