Frutti Tutti Glutti

, , , | Right | July 26, 2018

(I work as a salesperson for a well-known garden center. The garden business brings out all sorts of strange people. This is just one of the stories.)

Me: “Hi! Are you finding everything all right, ma’am?”

Customer: “Yes, but I noticed that your fruit trees aren’t certified ‘gluten-free.’ Do you know if the fruit your trees produce are gluten-free?”

(Pause.)

Me: “Yes… The trees you’re looking at aren’t a part of the wheat family… Therefore, they don’t produce gluten.”

Customer: “Right, but it’s the fruit that I’m concerned about.”

Me: “The fruit doesn’t contain any gluten, ma’am.”

Customer: “Okay! Thank you!” *walks off*

Coworker: *to me* “Nah… We specifically make sure we inject gluten into all of our fruits.”

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Attitude Fail Results In No Sale

, , , , | Right | May 25, 2018

(I work at a grocery store, and we have a seasonal garden centre set up during May and June. The only people trained on cash registers are cashiers, so since the area is run by the produce department, they need our help. This is my favourite area to work in, so I work about 23 out of 28 hours a week out there, and am pretty well-versed in prices and packaging. I have just finished ringing up a customer with a large amount of flowers; she is busy putting them back on her flatbed cart while I deal with the next customer, an older man. He has two bags of what appear to be the same thing on his cart, but we do have two products in exactly the same yellow packaging, just with a different name printed on the front.)

Customer: “Just this please.”

Me: “Okay! Are they both soil?”

Customer: *in an indignant tone* “Yes. That’s what it says in big black letters.”

Me: *in a cheerful tone* “Oh, yes, I can see the top bag. I just wanted to make sure the other one is the same, because the peat moss is in the exact same bag.”

Customer: *very rudely* “Yes. It is the same.”

Me: *still cheerful* “Okay, just checking! I don’t want to charge you for the wrong thing by accident!”

(I scan the top bag of soil twice.)

Me: *still friendly* “Okay, sir, your total is [amount].”

Customer: “You know what? Your attitude is atrocious. I’m not buying this at all.”

(He then storms away, leaving his cart behind. This is the type of joke that elderly people tend to think is funny to pull on me, so I wait for him to turn around laughing… He doesn’t. The previous girl is still loading her cart, and she looks at me with a shocked expression, which I return.)

Me: “I honestly didn’t think I had an attitude at all… Did I? I didn’t mean to.”

Girl: “Not in the slightest. I don’t know what his problem was.”

Me: “Some people…”

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When The Plant Isn’t The Dumbest Thing In The Room

, , , , | Right | April 10, 2018

(I’m standing in the middle of the front nursery, surrounded by plants, and I see a customer who looks lost.)

Me: “Are you finding everything all right?”

Customer: “I’m looking for a plant. It’s green. And it has leaves.”

Me: “…”

Customer: “Do you have it?”

Me: “…”

Customer: “Oh, jeez. That was stupid.”

(I could almost hear her mental facepalm.)

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Some Customer’s Entitlement Can Just Run You Down

, , , , , | Right | January 24, 2018

(The road to the car-park separates the outdoor section, where I work, from the indoor section. I am standing near the pedestrian crossing, helping a lady choose some plants, when her young child runs off towards the road just as a car is driving up to it. I honestly don’t remember what happens next, but suddenly, I am on the other side of the crossing with the child tucked under my arm and the bumper of the car almost touching my leg. The driver of the car is white-faced and staring at me in shock. The mother of the child catches up with me.)

Customer: “HOW DARE YOU?!”

Me: “Huh?”

Customer: “You could have hurt her, manhandling her like that! Put her down right now!”

(I realise I am still carrying the child. I put her down, and she starts to toddle off, so I hold her shoulder gently until the woman glares at me and I let go.)

Customer: “[Child], are you bruised? Are you okay?”

(The child just babbles and giggles; she obviously isn’t talking much yet. My boss turns up.)

Boss: “[My Name], are you okay?”

Me: “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Boss: “You go and take a break, for as long as you want. I’ll sort this out.” *to the customer* “I’m [My Name]’s manager. Can I help you, ma’am?”

(I heard her start to rant, so I legged it and had a warm drink to calm down. When I got back out, my boss had checked the camera footage. It showed the child running away, and me bursting into a sprint, scooping up the kid, and dashing for the other side of the crossing just inches ahead of the car. He told me she had wanted to press charges for “child abuse,” and he, a new father himself, had torn a strip off her and banned her from the centre. She did, indeed, send a letter of complaint to our head office, but my boss and the general manager backed me up, and she was once again told to get lost.)

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The Only Other Option Is Hedwig

, , , , | Right | January 9, 2018

(I am running a very popular gardening program for my community. At the onset of the program, I ask each participant for their contact information, that I might send them updates about important dates and workshops. This phone call takes place about a month after the program starts for the season.)

Participant: “Hey, [My Name]. I just wanted to know what’s going on with the program. I haven’t gotten any updates from you in a while.”

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry. Didn’t you get my email?”

Participant: “I never check my email. I only have one so I can get free things from companies.”

Me: “Oh. Okay. Well, let me see; is this address correct? I should have sent you two flyers by now.”

Participant: “I’m sure it’s in my car somewhere. I just throw everything that’s not a bill onto the front seat of my car and deal with it later.”

Me: “Well, I did try to call you last week.”

Participant: “I don’t answer calls from phone numbers I don’t recognize, and I know I wouldn’t recognize yours.”

Me: *getting frustrated* “I think we’re left with carrier pigeon.”

Participant: “What?”

Me: “What other means of communication would you suggest? I’ve listed everything I can think of.”

Participant: “Hmmm… Maybe shoot me a text. But not before or after work. You know I live in an area that doesn’t have reception!”

(Her daughter eventually came to the office for a different reason. I sent her home with about five important papers to take to her mom. I’m sure she’ll never see them!)

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