Unfiltered Story #149661

, , , | Unfiltered | May 10, 2019

I dropped off some items at my dry cleaner, who regaled me with this story:

A customer had picked up her quilts, paid and drove off.

About 15 minutes later, the customer calls the dry cleaner complaining viciously that she’d seen another dry cleaner that charged LESS for quilts! The nerve! I’ve been ripped off!

So the dry cleaner offered to refund the difference, is that what you want?

NO The customer just wanted to call and complain about the theft of her money!

How much money?

Three bucks of course.

Will Watch You Until The Sea Runs Dry

, , , , , | Right | January 31, 2019

(I work at a dry cleaning store. We have a middle-aged lady come in and drop off her clothes. I’m detailing what her clothes are in the computer when she tells me:)

Customer: “Now, honey, please make sure that these are dry cleaned.”

Me: *thinking she’s joking* “Of course, ma’am; we are dry cleaners!”

Customer: “Right, and I want these dry cleaned. No water.”

Me: “Right, ma’am, we can only clean them without water. It’s a dry cleaner.”

Customer: “Yes. Make sure you write a note on there, because if you do them in water, the colors will bleed.”

Me: “Right, ma’am, but… it’s a dry cleaner; we don’t use water washers here.”

Customer: *nodding* “Good. Make sure to write it on each article tag.”

Me: *accepting her ignorance* “All right, ma’am. Have a nice day!”

(Even though I handed her the receipt, the lady continued to stand there. She waited, wanting to watch me undergo the entire detail process before she left, meaning I had to write, “Dry Clean Only,” on the back of our “Special” tags that get pinned to special orders. This meant rewriting the same useless message for all of her pieces, which totaled more than thirty articles. Only after she saw each one detailed did she leave.)

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Unfiltered Story #136696

, , | Unfiltered | January 16, 2019

(I work in the dry cleaning industry for one of the biggest companies in Australia. I have been exposed to the industry since I was five through my mother and grandfather. A customer comes in today with a pile of tops all saying “Cold hand wash only. No machine wash. No dry-clean” I go to explain this to the customer…)

Customer: “No! That’s not right. I’ve been coming here for years and they always clean my things. Where’s the girl who is usually here?”

Me: “She left to focus on studies.”

Customer: “Shame. She at least knew what she was doing.”

The Biggest Stain Here Is You

, , , , , | Right | August 20, 2018

(I work at a dry-cleaners, and sometimes we have customers dropping off clothes with stains that we can’t get out. We always call them about it if this is the case, and don’t clean the clothes. This particular customer we told that we would try, but later on we decided that it wouldn’t be possible. We tried to notify the customer through a multitude of phone calls, all of which went unanswered. This is a Korean-owned business.)

Customer: “I’m here for pick-up. My phone number is [phone number].”

Me: “Okay! Let me just get that for you.”

(I bring the clothes up to the front, half of which are cleaned. The rest have bleach stains that we cannot get out.)

Me: “Unfortunately, we didn’t clean some of stained shirts because it’ll be nearly impossible to get those stains out.”

Customer: “What?! So you guys didn’t even clean them?!”

Me: “No, we tried calling you about it ahead of time—”

Customer: “I didn’t get no phone call!”

(He takes his change and leaves in a huff while spewing insults at us under his breath.)

Customer: “F***! F****** [Asian racial slur]!”

(I proceeded to glare at him, but he was too chicken to turn around.)

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Don’t Try To Reason With The Losers

, , , , | Right | June 26, 2018

(I work as a customer service rep for a pretty popular dry cleaning company. I get a lot of wealthier customers at my store, and they tend to come in waves. We have a drive-thru with a sliding glass door, and a walk-in counter. I am, luckily, with my manager and her lead, which means three of our store’s four employees are there. This day, a lady has driven in and is trying to pick up clothes she never actually dropped off. All three of us are looking for any clothes that could be hers mixed in with other orders. There’s a line forming behind her, but no one’s walked in yet. An older, snobby lady behind her speaks up.)

Lady #2: *rolls her window down* “EXCUSE ME!”

Me: *runs out our front door to help her* “Hi! I—”

Lady #2: “What the h*** is taking so d*** long?!”

Me: “I’m so sorry, ma’am; we’re just having a few snags with this customer. I can he—”

Lady #2: “MY NAME IS [LADY #2], AND I DEMAND THAT YOU SERVE ME NOW!”

Me: *managing not to flinch* “Of course! Just a pickup, then?”

Lady #2: “Yes! Four pairs of pants!”

Me: “Right away!” *runs in and rings her up, coming out with her total*

Lady #2: “I’m giving you exact change so you don’t waste my time trying to figure it out!” *takes three minutes trying to count it out, shoving it roughly into my hands, grumbling loudly*

Me: “Thank you!” *runs back into the store and gets her pants, hanging them up*

Lady #2: “Doesn’t this b**** realize she’s holding me up?!”

Me: *does the bad thing and tries to reason with her* “Well, we do end to get backed up with the window; that’s why we have the walk-in counter. It’s also a lot cooler than sitting in a hot car!” *smile*

Lady #2: “EXCUSE ME?! THAT IS WHAT THIS WINDOW IS FOR: PEOPLE IN A HURRY!”

Me: “I’m very sorry, ma’am, I hope your day is better.”

Lady #2: “Yeah? I HOPE YOURS ISN’T! IT’S CALLED CUSTOMER SERVICE! I AM REPORTING YOU TO YOUR BOSS!” *begins to speed away, nearly running over my foot* “THEY SHOULDN’T HAVE HIRED YOU, ANYWAY, YOU FAT, B****Y [LESBIAN SLUR]!”

(My hair is very short, and my mother has yelled at me for getting it cut “like a butch,” and I’m overweight. Normally, I’m very thick-skinned, but this is just getting to me.)

Next Customer: *pulls up* “Well, that was bracing! You okay, sweetheart?”

Me: *nods shakily*

Next Customer: “Well, I think you’re doing great! You’ve always been so nice to me and my wife! That lady was an idiot not to see how beautiful you are, too!”

Me: *trying so hard to keep the tears back* “Thank you, sir. How can I help you?”

Next Customer: “Just dropping off, and don’t worry about the wait. If I was in a hurry, I’d have walked in! Take care now!” *drives off much more carefully*

(Luckily, I had finished my shift. I clocked out and went to my car, and cried for a solid five minutes. The lady never reported me, and when she returned a week later, she apparently didn’t even recognize me, though she complained a bit about “that fat lesbian” that treated her poorly on her last visit. I informed her that it was me, and she got really pale and sped away.)

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