I live in a large city on the west coast of the US. My cousin was getting married in a large city on the east coast. It was a beach wedding, so I decided to buy a beige suit for the occasion. My partner and I decided to go a week early, rent a car, and see some sights. 

On a whim, I decided to mail that new suit to cleaners near the wedding venue so that it would be freshly cleaned and pressed and not look like it had been in my suitcase for a week. I mailed it, insured, with a signature receipt, and it arrived just fine. When I got the confirmation, I called, the cleaners confirmed they had it, and I gave them my credit card information.

We went on our trip, and the Saturday before the Sunday wedding, I went to the cleaners to get the suit. 

The woman working was a little nervous.

Employee: “I’m sorry, we can’t find your suit. We will have to have a manager come to look for it. We’ll call you on Monday.”

Me: *Shocked but polite* “I’m sorry, that won’t work. The wedding is tomorrow.”

Employee “I will inform my manager. She will check our other location, and we will call you in an hour.”

Forty-five minutes later, I got a call.

Manager: “We are uncertain how it happened, but we cannot find your suit anywhere in our system. We are very sorry for this.”

I was in absolute shock; my mouth was just flapping like a landed fish. I could feel myself getting angry, but I didn’t say anything yet.

Manager: “If I can ask, how much did the suit cost?”

Me: “I don’t recall exactly, but about $400.”

Manager: “Okay. I am issuing you a credit onto your card for $400 and refunding the cleaning costs.”

I was partially relieved, but I was still 3,000 miles from home in a strange city without a suit.

My partner found a branch of the same suitmaker where I bought the first one. We drove there and found the exact same suit, vest, and pants. The only problem was that the only pants they had were too long, and there was no tailoring available because it was Saturday. From when I hung up from the cleaners to when we left the store was fifty minutes. A trip to a fabric store got us starch, needles, and matching thread. My partner spent an hour hemming the pants, and we made it to the wedding the next day.

I am grateful for the cleaners for making it right and grateful that I have an off-the-rack sized body and a credit card that can flex to handle an extra $400. And I am grateful for an incredible partner. (And yes, I have made it up to them!)

I do dry cleaning. Normally, we safety pin a tag or two to mark your clothing so it won’t get lost. A man walks in and puts his sport coat on the counter.

Customer: “You put a hole in my sport coat!”

Me: “Can I see it?”

He looks up and down the coat and gets frustrated when he can’t see it.

Customer: “Well, I can’t find it now, but it was the size of a pinhole! You need to sew it shut!”

Me: “If it was the size of a pinhole, then wouldn’t me trying to sew it shut just make another pinhole?”

He looks at me in the eye for like a solid fifteen seconds.

Customer: “I think that’s the stupidest question I’ve ever asked anyone. I’m sorry.” 

And then, he walked out. I never saw him again.

I walk into my local dry cleaners to drop off some clothes. There is only one employee, the owner, currently working. He is being berated by the customer in front of me.

Customer: “But you said it would be $43.00.”

Owner: “Was it me or one of the girls?”

Customer: “It was you!“

Owner: “I guess it was less work than I thought.”

Customer: “You should know how much it is. You are the owner!”

Owner: “Sorry. I guess I made a mistake.”

Customer: “This is unbelievable!”

Owner: “Again, I’m sorry. But I need you to pay so I can wait on the next customer.”

The customer glares at me and turns back to the register.

Customer: “So, how much is it really?“

Owner: “$31.50.”

The customer slams cash on the counter and grabs his clothing.

Customer: “I hope you get your act together soon!”

He grabs his change and storms out.

Me: “Um… I just need to drop this off. I promise not to yell if I show up to get it and it’s cheaper.”

Owner: “Good, because I’m really not sure how the girls handle this. I’d like to think he doesn’t yell at them because they are minors, but I’m thinking he probably does. I should have banned him, but I’m telling the girls to ban him if he raises his voice again.”

We offer a stamp card that is stamped once per visit — not per item — and after a certain number of stamps, the customer receives one shirt dry-cleaned for free. One particular customer I deal with regularly complains about this system often. Cleaning a shirt costs about $2.35 per shirt, which is much cheaper than anywhere else in the area.

The customer comes in, as usual, hands my coworker his shirt, and gives her his name. My coworker puts the shirt in the system and he hands her his stamp card, and this is where things get interesting.

Customer: “You know, I used to bring in three shirts every few days so that I could get my free shirt. But it really bothers me that you guys don’t stamp the card once for each item!”

Coworker: “Sure, I get where you’re coming from, but that’s just the policy we have in place.” 

Customer: “It’s just that I make 400 grand a year, and I know this is a little thing, but it’s just one of those things that bother me, y’know? I’ve started just bringing in one shirt a day every day! I work as a director at my company, and this is just one of those little things that bother me.”

The customer rambles a bit about how we really should give him more stamps before my coworker decides to tell him what he wants to hear.

Coworker: “Well, I can’t do anything about it, but I can certainly speak to my managers.” 

The customer thanked her and shortly afterward departed. As soon as he was gone, my coworker and I proceeded to crack up about how upset he was about not getting his free shirt, despite this man apparently making 400k per year.

I am a customer service manager at a dry cleaner. I’m on the register when a guy calls up around 9:20.

Caller: “Can you clean my suit? I just got a call for a job interview tomorrow morning!”

The name on the caller ID is a very Irish-looking name, starting with O’N***, and the phone number doesn’t belong to any existing customer accounts.

Me: “No problem. If you can get it here by 9:45, we’ll have it ready this afternoon.”

Caller: “I’m a ways out, but my GPS says I should be able to get there by ten. Could you still do it?”

Me: “That wouldn’t be a problem. They start the final load of same-day rush orders around ten; I’ll just have them hold off a bit to make sure your suit gets cleaned in time.”

At 9:50, he calls back to say that the traffic is heavier than expected, and he is still about twenty minutes away. I tell him not to worry; we’ll still hold the machines for him. I then tell the plant manager out back that the customer is running a bit late, and she says to let her know as soon as the suit comes in so they can start the load.

At 10:05, a guy comes in with a suit.

Customer: “I have a job interview, and I need my suit done for tonight!”

Me: “Are you the guy who called ahead?”

Customer: “Yes. I’ve never been here before.”

No problem. I create a new customer account, but the name he gives looks Spanish. I don’t notice that the phone number is different, too. I have only spoken to one person on the phone who needed something rushed, but sometimes the caller ID gives the name of the previous person who had that number. I didn’t actually ask for the customer’s name over the phone.

After I make the tickets, I give him his copy and comment:

Me: “Funny thing, the name on the caller ID was O’N***. Must have been the name of the guy who had your number before you.”

Customer: “No, that’s actually my dad’s name.”

This seems a bit odd to me, but I figure maybe he’s adopted or has his mother’s last name.

I tell him to have a nice day, and then I bring the suit to the crew out back and tell them that this is the suit we’ve been waiting on. They start the machines, and I return to the register.

Ten minutes later, a red-headed guy comes rushing in with a suit.

Caller: “Thank you so much for holding the machines. I’m new to the area and didn’t know how bad the traffic got. I really want to make sure I look good for the interview tomorrow!”

My heart sinks.

Me: “Oh, are you Mr. O’N***?” 

Caller: “Yeah, how’d you know?”

Me: “That was the name on the caller ID. I’ll be right back.”

I had to go tell the crew and the plant manager that the real suit we were waiting on just came through the doors. 

It was too late to stop the load to add another suit in. We had to run an extra load to get them cleaned as promised, and it put our schedule back a bit for the day. 

The previous guy probably figured it was a harmless white lie to say he had called in when he hadn’t, or maybe he thought we’d say no if he was honest, since it was past our advertised cut-off time for same-day service. If he had been honest, he still could have gotten his suit cleaned on a rush since we were already holding the machines for someone else. Why he went as far as claiming O’N*** was his dad’s name is completely beyond me.