I had a summer job in the inventory department of a furniture store that sold items in flat-packs for ease of transportation. We had lots of problems with customers believing that flat-packs were magical and could make large furniture items fit into tiny cars. While we made a good faith effort to load their purchases, it was common for us to give up fighting the laws of physics and ask the customer to return with a larger vehicle.

One day, a lady pulled up in a sedan to pick up a dining room table. She noticed my skeptical look and showed me a sheet of graph paper where she had diagrammed exactly how the table would fit in her car. With the large tabletop unboxed, it slid in at precisely the angle in her diagram and the trunk could be closed without issue.

I was heartily impressed! I never saw Graph Paper Lady again, but I think of her detailed diagram any time I see people trying to fit oversized items into their undersized cars.

I work in a canteen-style restaurant inside a large furniture store. We’re famous for serving Swedish meatballs in gravy. A mother and her two children, a boy and a girl, have their trays and are selecting the meals they would like.

Little Boy: “I want the meatballs and lots of gravy!”

Mother: “He’ll take the twelve-piece meatball meal, please.”

Me: “You got it.”

I turn to the little girl.

Me: “And what would you like?”

Little Girl: *Sad sigh* “I guess I’ll have the fish.”

Mother: “But [Little Girl], you don’t usually like fish.”

Little Girl: “Yeah, but Daddy said that only boys can have balls.”

Mother: “Oh, Lord have mercy, that man. No, darling, he meant something else. You can have the meatballs if you like.”

Little Girl: “Oh, really? Can I have the sausage, too?”

The mom and I share a look, both stifling a smile.

Mother: “Yes, honey, you can have anything you like.” 

Gotta love it when kids take everything literally!

I work in a furniture store that’s going into administration. We are selling off everything, and I mean EVERYTHING. The manager makes me put a price label on the kitchen dustpan and brush. We are frantically trying to deliver stock we have to the customers but as sofas and the like take twelve weeks or more, many are never going to get their orders and we’re refunding mad customers on a daily basis.

This is done usually via telephone but lots of customers come into the store. All we can do is give them a form to fill out.

A very entitled customer comes to the front desk where I am currently working alone. She practically shouts at me:

Customer: “I want my refund! I want it right here and now!”

Me: *Getting the form.* “If you could start filling out this form—”

Customer: “Look at me when I am talking to you!”

Me: “I am looking at you, but I have blindness in one eye so sometimes it’s hard to tell.”

Customer: “Well they shouldn’t put you ‘disabled’s’ on the front desk; they should hide you out back.”

The company has gone bust, I have no job in two days the ONLY reason I don’t lay into her is the extra $100 a day to see out this sh*t-show. I turn and walk away, find the assistant manager, explain, and then tell him to deal with her.

He walks over to the front desk, hands her a form and tells her she better take it and leave, or he’ll report her for a hate crime against people with disabilities. She huffs and leaves, shouting expletives and waving the form above her head.

I work in a furniture store, and I also take customer calls.

Caller: “Hi. You sold us a bed four years ago.”

Me: “Oh, that’s good.”

Caller: “We’re moving house.”

There’s a pause.

Me: “Okay?”

Caller: “Well?”

Me: “I’m sorry, I’m not sure what you’re asking me, sir.”

Caller: “We bought the bed from you, and we’re moving!”

Me: “I still don’t understand.”

Caller: “You need to move the bed to our new place!”

Me: “You want to order a bed for your new place?”

Caller: “No! Listen! You need to move the bed you already sold to us to our new place!”

Me: “The same bed we sold to you four years ago?”

Caller: “Finally, she gets it!”

Me: “That’s not a service we provide. Once we’ve delivered the bed, it’s your responsibility where it goes.”

Caller: “You said you offered free delivery!”

Me: “When you buy the bed the first time. We don’t have a responsibility to move it for you every time you move after that first delivery.”

Caller: “Well, that’s terrible customer service!”

Me: “With all due respect, you stopped being our customer after you bought the bed and the warranty ended.”

There’s another pause.

Caller: “What if I offered you fifty bucks?” 

Me: “Goodbye, sir.” *Click*

I’m a cashier at a retail furniture store, and I am bored out of my absolute mind since it is a weekday morning and the store is about as dead as I’ve ever seen it. Regardless, I’m at the counter probably trying to think of words that rhyme with “bucket” or some other absurdity, when this younger couple comes up with a couple of pillows and whatever else. I scan their items and start getting them in bags, and their total comes out to some odd dollars and six cents.

The guy pulls out his wallet and gets a $50 bill. They both go through their pockets and can’t find any change, so he just gives me the fifty.

Guy: “Man, this is why I hate stores. They always make you break stuff for no reason.”

I say something about how it’s a pain and make some joke about sales tax that I’ve used every day for a year. I start getting the guy his change — whatever dollars and 94 cents — and I count out loud as I’m getting the coins — 25, 50, 75, 85, 90, 91, 92, 93, 94 — and as I’m about to give it to him, he says:

Guy: “See what I mean, man? Look at all that change.”

And that’s where things get bizarre.

I give him his change and the receipt and tell him to have a good day.

Guy: “You realize you would’ve been better off giving me a dollar?”

I sort of give him a look and just explain.

Me: “I know carrying the coins around can be annoying, but the computers will tell the managers at the end of the night exactly how much is supposed to be in the drawer, and they throw a fit if it’s off at all, above or below what it’s supposed to be.”

Guy: “No, you just gave me more than a dollar in change for no reason.”

He balls his hand into a fist around the coins and starts shaking them like a maraca.

Me: *Confused* “Sir, I’m pretty certain I gave you the 94 cents I was supposed to.”

Guy: “Yeah, man, that’s more than a dollar.”

And he walked off.

I am befuddled.