Of Course You Won’t

, , , , | Working | April 3, 2020

(I used to work as a front desk/secretary/whatever the h*** the owners thought they needed for a furniture store. Hindsight being what it is, I brought a lot of the issues on myself because I didn’t fight hard enough at the beginning, but still…)

Manager: “I need you to come in tomorrow for a few hours because I have to take my daughter to the dentist.”

(I normally have Tuesday and Wednesday off, but she is asking me to come in on Tuesday.)

Me: “Sure. But since you’re going to be so long, can I just work all day and then take the next Wednesday and Thursday off, instead?”

(Timing-wise, between appointments and travel to and from the office, getting her daughter back to school and then getting to the store, the day is going to be like two-thirds done.)

Manager: “That should be fine.”

(On the day of the dentist appointment, the manager shows up and the day is actually like 80% over.)

Manager: “Oh, by the way, I need you in on Thursday because I won’t be here.”

Me: *stunned silence*

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Unfiltered Story #190883

, , , | Unfiltered | March 27, 2020

(I work in customer service in a furniture store. While most of our items on display are the size of the actual product, our display beds are scaled down so they don’t take up too much space and have the actual size printed very clearly on the signs and on the boxes they come in. A woman walks up to the counter and wants to return a bunk bed.)

Woman: I would like to return this.

Me: Okay, and what is the reason you are returning it?

Woman: It’s not the right size.

Me: Um..I’ve never had this happen before. Do you mind if I check? It might take a while.

Woman: No, that’s fine.

(I put the bunk bed together and measure it. It is the correct size.)

Me: I’m certain it’s the correct size. They’re children’s bunk beds, were you looking for something larger?

Woman: No I wanted one like that (she points to the waist high, 2.5′ long display model with wooden barriers on both bunks). I have just adopted newborn twins and I thought that bunk crib looked cute but when I put it together at home it was huge.

Me: That’s not a crib. It is a children’s bunk bed set and it’s best for children who are 2-6 years old.

Woman: Can I buy the one you have over there?

Me: (concerned) No, That’s a display model and it’s not meant to be slept in.

Woman: Can I speak to your manager.

Me: Sure, but he will tell you the same thing.

(She asked the manager to sell her the display model without specifying what she was going to use it for and, surprisingly, he sold it to her. She came back the next day to return the display model and complained that her crib mattresses didn’t fit.)

Unfiltered Story #190136

, , | Unfiltered | March 18, 2020

(I work in a large furniture store that has snacks and sweets in some areas available for purchase, a woman comes to my checkout with a single pack of biscuits in her son’s buggy)
Woman: Just the biscuits.
Me: Can you pass them up here so I can scan them please?
Woman: They’re 80p, just ring them in.
(I realise I won’t be getting them to scan so I use the quite slow product search to find them and enter the number that way)
Woman: This is taking ages, you should know how to use a till that you work on.
Me: Sorry, the system is a little bit slow today. It’s just loading up now. Okay, that’ll be £1.15.
Woman: No they’re 80p it says so on the shelf.
Me: They’re showing on the till at £1.15, where did you pick them up from I’ll call the department to check what the shelf price is in case there was an error.
Woman: Fine it was near the kitchen stuff.
(I call the department and assure her that it’ll only be a minute)
Me on phone: Hi, I have a customer here with [product name] and I’m just checking what the price on the shelf is.
(the department on the phone confirms that the shelf says £1.15, I thank him and turn to find the woman gone and the biscuits left on the floor. I assume she got sick of waiting and left. I put them under the till and continue serving customers from the quite large queue that had formed)

About half an hour later the woman turns up again, pushes her way up the queue.
Woman: You’re wrong. And I demand to speak to your manager.
Me: My floor manager is standing just over there (I point to a man a few feet away)
She wanders off and I can hear her shouting about how incompetent I am and that I was trying to scam her out of money and that she deserves compensation for the time I wasted.
In the end security came and escorted her out of the building.

Quebecois-wha?

, , , , | Right | February 18, 2020

(I am a manager for a large, well-known Canadian furniture and appliance retailer that stocks many items in-store. Like any modern business, we have terminals to take debit and credit cards. The financial institution that provides these terminals and services to us is based out of the province of Quebec, as many financial institutions in Canada are, especially ones involved with the furniture, appliance, and electronic retail industry. I am at the front desk when one of our sales associates comes up with a customer to put through a sale for a freezer. The customer has several pounds of meat arriving to him tomorrow and needs a freezer in-stock to preserve it. Everything goes normally up until right after the sale is paid for and completed, and then this happens:)

Customer: “I need to cancel this order.”

Associate: “I’m sorry?”

Customer: “I’M CANCELLING THIS AND GETTING MY F****** MONEY BACK!!”

Associate: “Whoa, we can do that, but what’s the problem?”

Customer: “I see on your terminal that [Our Company] banks with [Quebec Financial Institution]!”

Me: “Well, yes, they provide us with terminals and things like our financing plans…”

Customer: “That’s bulls***! We don’t want [Our Company] here in the west if you do business with Quebec!”

Me: “Sir, I’m not sure I understand the issue here. You don’t want to do business with us because we have terminals from [Quebec Financial Institution]?”

Customer: “Obviously! Quebec doesn’t want a pipeline for our oil but has no problem leeching off our economy to fund their government!”

(The customer proceeds to rant about the oil, the Quebec government, and French people for a minute. To clarify, in recent news, Quebec shot down a plan to have a pipeline built across Canada between our provinces for Alberta’s oil industry. Pipelines can be a controversial topic to some, but apparently, some more than others.)

Me: “Sir, you do understand that [Quebec Financial Institution] is a private business and has nothing to do with the Quebec Government?

Customer: “I don’t care! Quebec and the French won’t be getting any of my money! Now hurry up with my refund so I can take my business elsewhere!”

Me: “All right, but there’s no need for that kind of talk.”

(At this point, my general manager, who is partially French himself, must have overheard part of the conversation, and walks over to the till.)

General Manager: *slightly annoyed* “What’s this about the French? I’m French.”

Customer: *sarcastically* “Good for you.”

(My associate and I get nervous and urge our GM to step away, assuring him we’ll handle this so nothing escalates, which thankfully it doesn’t, even though I’m getting fed up with this customer at this point. I finish up the paperwork and refund the customer.)

Customer: “Make sure you write down the real reason I’m cancelling this, not something made-up!”

Me: “Oh, yes, it’s already written here; no one would believe me if it wasn’t.”

Customer: “I’ll be getting a hold of your home office, telling them we don’t want your company here if this is who you do business with!”

Me: “Yeah, good luck with that.”

(The customer finishes up with our associate, and then proceeds to storm towards the doors.)

Associate: “There you go, sir. Good luck finding a freezer!”

Customer: “Oh, I will! There are better companies here that don’t deal with the French! I’ll be going to [Competitor]!”

Me: *yelling over to ensure he can hear* “We own them!”

Customer: *yelling back* “Then I won’t be going there! I’ll just go to [Different Competitor]!”

Me: “They deal with [Quebec Financial Institution], as well, and they don’t stock appliances!”

Customer: “F*** YOU!”

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Should Have Shown The Table People The Door

, , , , | Working | February 17, 2020

(For a couple of years, my boyfriend and I lived in a teeny-tiny one-bedroom apartment with probably the smallest kitchen table there is to buy. Therefore, we are thrilled when we finally get our new apartment since it allows us to buy a new table that can fit all of our friends and family. The table is 2.5m long or approximately 8.2 feet. When ordering it, I pay extra for delivery up to the fifth floor. The elevator is big but not so big that it can hold a 2.5m-long table plus wrapping. Therefore, the instructions are that, on delivery day, there will be two persons from the delivery firm, carrying the table up the stairs. Seems simple, eh? The day of delivery:)

Delivery Guy: “I’m here to deliver a package for [My Name].”

Me: “That’s me, but you were supposed to be two persons.”

Delivery Guy: “Ah, don’t worry about it. I’ll fix this.”

(The delivery guy proceeds to take the table out of the truck, gets the table inside the apartment building — only because I hold the door open for him — and then lowers the table onto the floor in a brusque way. When the elevator arrives, he tries to shove the table inside the elevator car but since the table is longer than the car, when the doors closes, the table is sticking out quite a bit. He then tries to lean the table so that one side of it hits the roof and the other side hits the tile-clad floor. This continues for several minutes, while sweat is starting to break out on my skin. Bear in mind that this is a rather expensive table, at least for a twenty-something couple that has just bought an apartment.)

Me: “Are you sure about this? I did pay for two people to deliver this via the stairs.”

Delivery Guy: “Oh, no problem. It’s just a really small elevator.”

Me: *under my breath* “Well, it really isn’t.”

(New accessibility rules state that the elevators in new houses must have certain measurements; it’s a really big elevator. The delivery guy tries to take out the table from the car, shoving it into the glass doors in the hallway, then on the floor, then into the ceiling, making a large dent in it. By now I’m really sweaty because I know there is going to be at least one dent in the table.)

Delivery Guy: “I’m gonna try and take this via the stairs but the table is really heavy. How many stairs is it?”

Me: “It’s on the fifth floor.”

Delivery Guy: *lets out a heavy sigh and tries the stairs only to realize that the table is too heavy* “I’m gonna call a colleague and get some help.”

(In the end, the two delivery people got the table up the stairs and into the apartments. The whole thing took approximately an hour and a half. Nearly all corners were dented and I had to lodge a claim with the store. The new table arrived a couple of days later, via a different delivery firm, was brought up the stairs by two delivery people instantly, and had no dents when they were done.)

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