My fiancé and I are shopping for a new mattress. We are in our early twenties, which I do believe plays a role in what happens. The store is not currently busy and there is a group of salesmen talking with each other. The manager greets us and asks what we’re looking for. He calls over one of the salesmen to help us, but the salesman doesn’t look very happy that he was asked to help us. He doesn’t ask any questions and takes us over into an area with mattresses in a very high price range.

Salesman: “We have some mattresses over here. You can take a look and find me if you have any questions.”

Fiancé: “I’m sure these are great, but they are out of our budget. We’re looking at around $300 to $500. Would you mind showing us some of those, please?”

He looks annoyed and points to a different area of the store.

Salesman: “You can find our budget mattresses over there.”

He walks away and starts talking with his coworkers again. We look around for a bit, but we are put off by his attitude so we decide to leave.

Salesman: *Smugly* “Leaving so soon?”

Me: “Yes, we were planning on making a purchase today, but we’re going to [Competitor] and will be purchasing from them, instead.”

His boss did not look pleased. We went to [Competitor] and they were nothing but nice, and they didn’t treat us differently for not being able to afford a high-priced mattress. I get that they make commissions on sales, but any sale is better than no sale.

I am sofa shopping. I’m only really in the store to check out how they look in person. I already know the styles I’m interested in and the costs. I have refused assistance twice, but unfortunately, my phone, which has all the names and measurements, is playing up. 

A third sales guy seems to sense this and sneaks up behind me.

Sales Guy: “Can I help?”

I’m still struggling with my phone.

Me: “Actually, maybe. I am looking for a sofa that is no wider than 228 cm, available in grey, and under £800.”

Sales Guy: “Hmm… I’m sure I can help you with that. Did you have a budget in mind?”

Me: “Under £800.”

Sales Guy: “Okay, that’s great. How about this one here?”

He leads me to a sofa that looks massive.

Me: “That looks pretty big. Are you sure it’s under 228?”

He doesn’t answer, so I grab my tape measure.

Me: “No, way too big.”

Sales Guy: “You could always try it and return it if it doesn’t fit.”

Me: “Err, no, I know it’s not going to fit.”

Sales Guy: “Okay, then. How about this one?”

Me: “It’s way over budget.”

Sales Guy: “We offer finance?”

Me: “You know what? I’m okay, actually. I will have to talk to my wife, anyway.”

Sales Guy: “Okay, whenever you’re ready to buy, just ask for me and I can help you further.”

You haven’t helped me at all so far, but okay. We ended up buying online at a different store. Way to screw yourself out of commission.

My girlfriend badly needs a new couch and I have recommended she just lurk on used websites until she sees something she likes. On the other hand, it is right in the middle of the first lockdown, and her mother has decided she would rather pay for a brand new couch than risk her daughter getting a [health crisis] couch.

We end up at a local store that is a big name in the community, looking at couches that cost more than we make in two months. And my girlfriend is really excited that she can get her couch in whatever colour she wants, as she is a very stylish woman who loves big, bold colours. She also loves that this store has the option to “build your own” couch, being able to take any design model and customize it to any shape.

She does keep in mind that there is going to be a bill that her mom will need to pay, so she gravitates toward the less expensive models. At one point, she locks eyes on a very heavily discounted couch and starts to get excited. It is not in any way, shape, or form, anything even approaching what she wanted, but for that price, she figures she can deal with it. I check the tag.

Me: “Umm, this price is for this couch.”

Girlfriend: “Yes! It’s not a terrible couch. It’ll work!”

Me: “No, I mean this exact couch.”

Girlfriend:  “Yeah, I don’t really like its shape that much, either, but it would save my mom a lot of money.”

Me: “No, I mean, this specific couch, in this colour.”

Girlfriend: *Recoiling* “Oh.”

It was a grey floor model — not even an interesting textured grey, just plain flat solid grey. Fortunately, her mother completely understood, agreed that a grey couch simply would not suit her, and was not upset to pay more for a better couch she actually liked.

My girlfriend currently has a cobalt blue velvet sectional. I’m slightly disappointed that she didn’t go for crimson like her last one, but I’m just glad I was able to talk her out of bright purple.

I work in a furniture store as the office manager. A woman recently placed an order with us that is over $12,000. She is moving into a new home, but it won’t be ready until September at the earliest. She didn’t have the address at the time of purchase but knew the area was close to her mother’s house, so we used her mother’s address for a place filler. That’s fine; we can hold the items up to a year, and as long as the new address is on the same route, we can change it fairly easy. Her mother has been a customer of ours before and has always been known for being a little crazy. The salesperson put both of them under the same account. Ugh.

One day, I get a call from the mother. We are exchanging a table base for her. She starts yelling at me.

Mother: “Your delivery drivers won’t pick up my table base because someone at your company is a moron. Why the h*** would you send a separate truck to pick up? D*** it, I just want to be done with your company!”

Me: “Okay, let me lo—”

Mother: “Is anyone there competent at all?”

OH, H*** NO!

Me: “Let me see what is going on, then.”

I look up her account and see that my boss put it on the delivery for her daughter.

Me: “Okay, let me reach out to distribution and—”

Mother: “D*** IT, I AM DONE WITH YOU G**D*** COMPANY! I DO NOT WANT THEM HERE ANYMORE…”

She proceeds to go on and on.

Me: “Ma’am, the longer you keep me on the phone, the longer it is going to take me to resolve the issue.”

Mother: “AND ANOTHER THING! WHY THE H*** ARE YOU DELIVERING MY DAUGHTER’S FURNITURE TO MY HOUSE IN JUNE?! I DON’T WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN! CHANGE THE D*** ADDRESS. MY GOD, YOU ARE INCOMPETENT! SHE’S NOT EVEN CLOSING UNTIL SEPTEMBER!”

Me: “At the time of purchase, your daughter didn’t have an address, so we used yours. Second, we can only schedule out three months in advance. The system prevents that. Third, the table base will be picked up today, but only if I can get off the phone with you and call distribution.”

Mother: “UGH… FIIIINE! JUST AS LONG AS I DON’T HAVE TO SEE YOUR TRUCKS AGAIN! YOU KNOW, THIS IS THE FOURTH TIME THEY HAVE DELIVERED THIS JUNK! I HOPE MY DAUGHTER DOESN’T HAVE THE SAME ISSUE I DID! UGH!”

Me: “I’ll call you back.”

I hang up and get on the phone with distribution; they pick up the base. I call the mother again to tell her.

Mother: “They already left, okay?” *Hangs up*

Me: “Okay…”

The next day, the daughter calls. I brace myself, but I never expected this.

Daughter: “My name is [Daughter] and my father’s wife called the other day and then texted me all freaked out about a delivery that’s going to her house in June.”

I start mentally beating my head against the wall.

Me: “Ah, yes. I informed your mother — sorry, your dad’s wife — that we are only able to schedule things three months out at a time. The system literally will not let us schedule any further. I also informed your mom at the time — or your father’s wife — that at the time you purchased you never provided us an address so we just used hers.”

Daughter: “Ah! Okay, that makes much more sense.”

She gives me the information I need, I change it, and everything is good.

Me: “All right, we are good to go now. And the reason we are scheduling a date and pushing it out is that the supplies and the merchandise are being delayed significantly due to the health crisis; we are holding any items that we can to make sure that by the time you do need them, you will have them. I know that you are not closing until September, so we will keep pushing the date back until September, and we’ll check in with you then.”

Daughter: “Thank you very much. I am so sorry about my dad’s wife. She’s a batty nut job. She drives me nuts. She’s been married to my dad since I was ten and she and I have had our issues over the years.”

She goes on for another fifteen minutes. A customer approaches the desk, thank God.

Me: “I am sorry to cut you off, but I do have another client I need to assist. I am glad we could get that taken care of.”

Daughter: “Thank you, [My Name]. And don’t pay attention to what that crazy woman says. There was nothing wrong with the other tables; she’s just insane.”

She hung up, and all I could do was laugh.

With not a great deal of money, but a noticeably empty flat, I “umm” and “ahh” for weeks before picking out a really nice, if a bit pricey, lamp. Annoyingly, I find out it is recalled the following week; worse is that they cannot replace it with anything similar, only refund it.

I go down to the store and signs are everywhere — on the doors, hanging from signs, etc. It must be a pretty important recall for this bad publicity.

I get to the customer service counter.

Me: “I need to return this lamp; it’s part of the product recall.”

Worker: “Product recall? Well, do you have a receipt?”

Me: “No, I didn’t think I needed one.”

Worker: “No receipt, no refund.”

I know this isn’t true; recalls never normally need it. Then, it occurs to me.

Me: “Your signs clearly state otherwise.”

Worker: “Sorry, there is nothing I can do.”

Me: “You’re telling me you’re refusing to refund a faulty product, despite every sign in the place saying otherwise?”

Worker: *Scoffs* “What signs?”

Me: “Like the two behind you.”

I gesture to two large signs with a picture of the lamp in red letters instructing customers to return them. At the bottom, the signs say, “No receipt needed. Please bring the card used to purchase.”

Worker: “Hmm. I will have to call a manager.”

He disappeared for a long time before a manager returns and processes the refund immediately, apologising. I wonder how the worker was so unaware of everything around him.