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We Bet Our Dry-Cleaned Shirt He Doesn’t Make That Much

, , , , | Right | September 27, 2021

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.

The Suit Fitted Twice!

, , , , | Right | August 10, 2021

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.

You Can Smell The Bad Attitude From Here

, , , , , , | Right | November 30, 2020

I work at a dry cleaners, and we clean the clothes onsite. I’ve worked here for several years, and we have a fairly easy redo policy if the customer is not happy with the result. Unfortunately, the next town over is a wealthy community, and we have to deal with several rude, entitled customers.

One evening, a woman storms in with a sweater. I can see that the paper identification is still attached from when we cleaned it.

Customer: “Smell this! This is not clean!”

Me: “That’s okay; I’ll have them reclean it for you for free. Just sign here.”

Customer: “No, you need to smell this! It’s disgusting.”

Me: “Your word is enough. There will be no charge for us to redo it. I just need a signature.”

The customer thrusts the sweater at my face.

Customer: “I want you to smell this, now!”

Me: “I can’t. I’m anosmic. Now, please—”

Customer: *Cutting me off* “I don’t care what f****** religion you are! You will smell this now!”

Me: “Ma’am, ‘anosmic’ means I have no sense of smell. You could cram a dead fish in my face and I still couldn’t smell it. Now sign here so we can clean this for you.”

She just gave an angry grunt and didn’t say another word to me as she signed the form. I printed her claim ticket, told her when it would be ready, and told her to have a nice day.

Boy, What A Charmer!

, , , , | Right | August 30, 2020

I work at a rather small dry cleaning place. A man comes in to pick up a suit with his young son. Usually, our customers’ children are too shy to talk to us.

Son: “Do you know how old I am?”

Me: *Taken aback* “No! How old are you?”

Son: “I’m four and a half years old.”

Me: “Wow. I’m twenty-one. I’m old!”

Son: *Thinking hard* “Yes.

I continue the transaction with the customer. 

Son: *To his father* “Dad, can I press the green button?”

Customer: “Of course you can!”

The customer puts in his card into the machine, and I go to type in the price, pressing the green button when I do.

Son: “But I wanted to press the green button!”

Me: “Oh, I am so sorry. You can do it now.”

He presses the green button, and two receipts come out, one for the customer and one for me. 

Me: *To the customer* “Would you like your receipt?”

Customer: “Yes, please!”

Son: “Daddy, can I have that piece of paper?”

Customer: “No, sorry, Daddy needs this one.”

Son: *To me* “Can I have that piece of paper?”

Me: “I’m sorry, but I need this one. But I can print out another one for you.”

Son: “Yes, please!”

I print out another receipt for the little boy. This one is wider and longer than the one I gave his father. 

Me: “You’re getting a big one!”

I hand him the receipt. 

Son: “Ooooh! That is big!”

The customer thanks me and says goodbye as he leaves. They turn the corner when I hear:

Son: “Bye-bye!”

Me: “Bye!”

The boy comes running into the store again.

Son: “Bye! I’ll—” *starts thinking* “—see you tomorrow?”

Me: “No, you won’t, sweetie.”

Son: “No… I’ll see you some other day, then!”

Me: “Yes, you will! Definitely!”

Son: “See you then! Bye!”

After he left, I couldn’t stop smiling for the rest of the day. That little boy made my entire week!

Smells Like Teen Spirit

, , | Right | June 4, 2020

I work at a dry cleaning shop. A lady comes in and puts a bed cover on the counter of the register. I check out the item, unfolding it with my bare hands, to see if there is any damage or special stains on it, and I ask the customer if there is anything specific I should know about it.

I can’t find anything, and the lady tells me that there isn’t, so I just register it in the computer and take the bed cover in my arms to take it to the back of the store where the machines are. She then tells me:

Customer: ”Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you. Be careful; it’s full of ‘teen,’ if you know what I mean.”