(I’m a personal shopper at a local grocery store. Every once in a while, mistakes will happen, the most common being when an item accidentally gets left out after being rung up. When this happens, 98% of the time the customer will call back and complain that they didn’t get their item. We’ve also had customers call and say they didn’t get an item that they didn’t even order, but we’ve had to give it to them for free. A new manager allows us to now tell a customer if they didn’t order something correctly, to try and not give so much stuff away for free. One day, I’m working on my third or fourth order of the day when I get called into the office. A coworker is on the phone with one of my customers.)

Customer: “[My Name] messed up my order! I didn’t get my chicken!”

Coworker: “I’m sorry to hear that.” *pulls up the order to verify that chicken was actually ordered*

Customer: “I can’t believe this! I ordered three packs of chicken and I didn’t get them! It’s all [My Name]’s fault!”

Coworker: “Uh, ma’am? I’m looking at your order, and says you ordered the chicken breast from behind the meat counter.”

Customer: “No, I didn’t! I ordered the packs! They were on sale for $1.99 a pound. But I didn’t get my chicken!”

Coworker: “No, the $1.99 chicken is behind the counter. The packs are $4.99 a pound. You actually ordered three chicken breasts from behind the counter, and they’re wrapped in paper.”

Customer: “There’s no chicken! And on the receipt, it only shows one thing of chicken that was rung up!”

Me: *whispers* “I gave her the chicken. I’ve only had one customer order chicken so far today. She definitely ordered from behind the counter.”

Coworker: “Ma’am, the chicken you ordered is from behind the counter. You ordered three breasts which were wrapped up together in paper. They were only rung up once because that’s the price of all three of them together.”

Customer: “I didn’t order from behind the counter! I ordered three packs for $1.99! [My Name] messed up my order!”

(This goes back and forth a little bit more, until my coworker gives up trying to explain that the customer ordered the wrong thing.)

Coworker: “Tell you what. I’ll personally grab you three packages of chicken and put them in the cooler myself, and I’ll just give them to you. Okay? But when you’re online ordering, you’ll know if the chicken is from behind the counter because it will ask you for the number of breasts you want.”

Customer: “Fine.”

Coworker: *hangs up* “A**hole.”

Me: “Is that all she wanted? I gave her exactly what she ordered.”

Coworker: “I know. It’s not your fault she ordered the wrong thing and you can’t read her mind.”

Me: “I hate customers who try to get me in trouble.”

(I am an assistant manager for a grocery chain in one of the most relaxed areas in the state. I’m the only manager on duty when our customer service desk pages over the intercom for a manager to pick up line one. I pick up and say the usual:)

Me: “Thank you for calling your friendly [Street] [Store]. My name is Yezi; how can I help you today?”

(I refer to myself as Yezi in the retail world, easier than explaining that my actual name is Yezirah, which nobody really gets. I have been told I don’t have a Hispanic accent even though I was born and raised in a third-world Hispanic country.)

Customer: “Oh, thank heavens, Angie. I was just in your store and the cashier was speaking Mexican to the customer in front of me at checkout… Mexican!“

(They could be talking about me, for all I know.)

Me: “Ma’am, do you mean that the cashier was speaking in Spanish to a Spanish-speaking customer?”

Customer: “No, they were just jabbering in Mexican to each other and I am very upset about that, so upset I don’t want to shop in your store until everyone learns to speak American like the rest of us. We’re in America; everyone should speak American!”

Me: “I’m sorry you feel that way, ma’am. Next time you’re in our store, please feel free to ask for anyone on our management team to help you feel more comfortable and we will make sure you are spoken to in English, as everyone we employ speaks English.”

(Then, in my full Hispanic accent, I say to her:)

Me: “My name is Yezi Osorio, the store manager is [First Name] Arevalo, and our other assistant manager is [First Name] Galvan. Any one of us will be more than happy to help you in any of your shopping needs.”

Customer: *huffs and just hangs up*

(The language is Spanish, not Mexican, and there are 21 other countries that speak it other than Mexico; be careful who you complain to!)

Related:
Totally Estupido, Part 7
Totally Estupido, Part 6
Totally Estupido, Part 5

(I work at the customer service desk of a grocery/department store. We handle returns/exchanges, complaints, lottery, and customer calls)

*customer calls*
Me: Hello! This is the (city) (store’s name) service desk. How may I help you?
Customer: I want to know if you have any music books for the piano.
Me: I know our electronics department has a variety of books. I’m not sure if they have any music books. But, I will connect you with an employee in that department.
*i call the department. Though I was a little nervous that, since it was 9:50 at night, there might not be anyone in that department*
Electronics coworker: electronics, (her name), how may I help you?
Me: hey this is the service desk! I have a customer on hold wondering about some books.. Mind if I transfer her to you?
Electronics coworker: no problem!
*i transfer the call. Ten minutes later, the same number calls again.*
Me: (says my answering spiel)
Customer: hi, I believe I talked with you earlier. I was trying to find a book.. But I must have gotten disconnected..
Me: oh! Yeah I tried to transfer you.. I wonder what happened.. Let me try again.
*tries to call the department. No answer. Pages the department. No answer. I look back at the phone and the customer hung up on line 1. A couple minutes later she calls again.*
Customer: I was waiting for you to transfer me.. Can you page them to pick up their phone?
Me: I’m sorry! I was trying to get someone in that department but no one has been answering.. I tried paging. I will try again..
*i tried paging a couple of times but no luck. Its after 10pm and I know around now electronics employees go home. So I call the night store director to see if she knows if we sell anything. She informed me that everyone went home in that department and no we do not sell any. I look back at line 1 and once again the customer hung up on me. A couple of minutes later, the customer calls back again.)
Customer: this is getting ridiculous! Get me a manager.
Me: I’m sorry ma’am. I just spoke with the store director and she said we do not sell any.
(the lady seemed pretty peeved. But I don’t quite understand why she kept hanging up on me. Of she stayed on the line I could have gotten an answer sooner for her.)

(I work the customer service desk and we close at 11. And even though we close at 11, we start closing up shop when 10:30 hits. So we clean, get postal and lottery sale reports done/put away the scratch off lottery, and take out our drawers for the cash registers. We have maybe 5 customers from 9:30 – 11 so, it makes sense to start closing early. The time is 10:55)
*an older man in his 50s walks up and wants to buy lottery.*
Me: hi, what can I do for ya?
Customer: too early in the morning for you?
Me:…??
Customer: I’d like to have some scratch offs. Number 3 and number 20.
*i get him his lottery then he proceeds to stand thhere to stratch them. My coordinator (they’re in charge of us and the cashiers. Like a manager, but without the perks) starts to take out the scratch off lottery so we can lock them up. *
Customer: its only 1:30 in the morning..? What are you guys doing?
Me: it’s 11.. We close at 11..
Customer: What?! Its 1 am!! I thought you were open 24 hours!
Me: The store is. But the desk is open from 7 – 11. It did used to be 24 hours. A lot of people still think it is since the store is. But since we don’t get much traffic. It made more sense to close now. (I still don’t know why he was so convinced it was 1 in the morning.)

(It’s about 7:40 pm. The deli stops serving hot foods at seven, and deli clerks are to clock out by nine. We are behind as it is. My coworker and I are cleaning the deep fryers, washing dishes, and the like.)

Customer: *approaches hastily* “Are you guys closed?”

Coworker: *stops washing dishes* “Yeah, we are. Sorry.”

Customer: *annoyed* “Well, that’s just great! When do you normally close?!”

Coworker: “We close every night at seven, ma’am.”

(The customer lady checks her phone to see the time and just grunts annoyingly.)

Customer: “So, you’re telling me I can’t get four chicken tenders?!”

(There is a pan of old, kind of burnt chicken tenders in the now turned-off display case. It’s not been heated for way over the ten-minute rule and was dried out even before we turned off the heat. I stop in the middle of cleaning the deep fryer and turn to her.)

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am. But we stop serving food from that side of the deli at seven. I can get you something from our salad bar—”

Customer: *interrupting me* “You’re telling me you can’t give me four chicken strips?!”

Me: “No, ma’am…”

Customer: “Then what’re you gonna do with them?!”

Me: “Normally at seven, if the tenders are still fresh, we put them in the fridge to be packaged up tomorrow and sold as cold food. But those have been sitting for a while even before we closed, so—”

Customer: *interrupting again* “You can’t give me four d*** chicken tenders?!”

Me: “I just said—”

Coworker: “Sorry, we can’t. It’s the rules.”

Me: “Yeah, it’d be against code for me to serve them to you.”

Customer: “Fine! Whatever!” *leaves*

(My coworker and I exchange looks and then get back to what we were doing. The customer comes back not two minutes later.)

Customer: “So, you’re telling me I can’t get four d*** chicken tenders?!”

Me: *internally screaming* “No, ma’am. You cannot. If you really want some, we do have some cold packaged tenders over at the cold display case.”

Customer: “But isn’t that stale, too?”

Coworker: “No, it’s not, ma’am. It was cooled and packaged before it was stale, keeping it mostly fresh for you—”

Customer: “So, you’re telling me that the packaged tenders are stale?”

Coworker: “No… It’s not. It’s more like…” *starts trying to explain to her how bacteria in food and temperature works like on our food handlers test*

Customer: “So, the packaged ones are filled with bacteria.”

Coworker: “No. It’s…” *starts repeating himself*

Me: “It’s not how it works, ma’am. And it’s just too late. The hot food is closed down for the night. We’re just following the rules.”

Customer: “I just want four chicken tenders!”

Coworker: *starts explaining again*

Me: “We’re not supposed to, ma’am. We don’t make the rules.”

Customer: “So, you’re telling me the packaged tenders have bacteria in them?!”

Coworker: *getting really tired of repeating himself*

Me: “Look, I’m sorry, ma’am. But we just don’t want to give you bad food and get in trouble. All right?”

(That seems to have done it, because she then leaves again and doesn’t come back.)

Coworker: *after a few minutes* “I miss her.”

Me: “Me, too… If she comes back, I wanna make sure to throw those tenders into the compost right in front of her.”