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This Customer Is More Painful Than The Average Jerk

, , , , | Right | CREDIT: Warrior_White | October 14, 2021

I used to work at a big club warehouse in customer service. The job was great, and members were usually awesome, but every now and then I’d find the most entitled jerks to ever walk the earth. Based on the way they treated me and others, I can only assume they didn’t even see us as human. We were only lifelike robots built to ring up their items and load their carts.

One such incident that proves my assumption happened on a super busy Saturday. It was POURING outside. Members were fighting over parking close to the door and then bolting for the entrance as if their lives depended on it. As a courtesy to members, on rainy days, we always had someone outside in the front of the cart return bay to dry off the carts. This day was so busy; members were coming in faster than I could dry carts for them. Most were super nice and patient; they waited in line for dry ones and almost everyone thanked me. A few, who were in a hurry or didn’t care about dry carts, just skipped the line and grabbed a wet cart.

One such member rushed up and grabbed a wet cart from behind me. Sometimes carts get jammed or snagged together. Usually, it’s the buckles for the kiddie seats getting tangled, but sometimes it’s a warp in the cart from damage. This poor member grabbed one such warped cart and it dragged its buddy with it. The member attempted to dislodge it. He yanked. He twisted. He shook them violently. Then, he looked to me.

Member: *Demanding* “Help me get these carts separated!”

Me: “Can I offer you one of these dry ones, instead?”

Nope. He wanted THAT cart specifically for some reason. I abandoned my drying rag and attempted to pry the carts apart. It was like trying to separate two buffaloes in a horn lock. They refused to budge. I looked at the metal flap that allowed the carts to “nest” into each other. I saw where it was snagged and reached in to coax it free. I placed my other hand on the lip of the second cart to give me leverage while I untangled them.

Member: *Loudly* “Come on! I’m in a hurry!”

He decided I was clearly too incompetent to separate them, so he reached out to give the front cart one more tug.

At that exact moment, I loosened the second cart and the front cart sprang free. It launched forward… catching my thumb between it and the second, stationary, cart. I heard the POP sound of my thumb dislocating a few seconds before the pain hit me. I yanked my hand free and managed to stifle my choice profanity with less firing-worthy words. Something like, “Sucking sticks of saffron on a ship!” My supervisor witnessed this and still tells people it’s his favorite outburst.

The member just looked at me like I was nuts.

Member: “There! All I needed was a cart. Was that so hard?!”

I was cradling my oddly shaped hand.

Me: “Sir! I think you broke my finger!”

The member just shrugged, huffed, and walked into the warehouse. It looked like he forgot I existed the second he took his eyes off me.

My supervisor witnessed the whole thing but was more worried about me, not the member. He pulled me aside and radioed for ice. Lucky (or unlucky), I am very pain tolerant. It was not the first joint I’d dislocated. I also know the easiest way to end the pain is to reset the joint. I fiddled around with my weirdly dangly thumb until I felt it “click” back into place. My whole thumb was swollen and turning a lovely shade of purple.

My supervisor sent me inside to write up an incident report and sent a posse of employees into the store to find the member and sentence him to banishment, but, as it was insanely busy, they never found him. By far the worst… customer… ever.

At least I got an extra day off and a great macabre story out of it!

Assuming And Assaulting Make You Double The A**

, , , , , | Right | CREDIT: MPrigge0124 | October 13, 2021

I am a twenty-five-year-old woman, and I have about five different things wrong with my left foot and ankle. I have three forms of tendonitis and two joints with osteoarthritis in my foot. I also had surgery on this ankle about two and a half years ago. I deal with a lot of pain and have a very noticeable limp. I’m in pain almost every single day of my life, and currently, there isn’t much I can do to alleviate the pain.

I work ten-hour shifts and range from being on my feet the whole time to possibly sitting most of the day. Yesterday was a very busy day, so I was on my feet the whole time. By the time I got off, I was in a lot of pain — probably about a nine on the pain scale. I needed to stop at the grocery store to pick up some veggies to go with dinner. I was doing my shopping and was just getting through the store pretty slowly so as not to cause any shooting pains in my ankle and foot. All the sudden, this elderly woman stopped me.

Woman: “I just hate your generation! All you guys do is fake an injury so you don’t have to work. Your limp isn’t real. Get over yourself.”

Me: “Okay.”

I tried walking away. I was so exhausted and really didn’t care what she thought. I just wanted to get my stuff, leave, and go home to ice my ankle.

Then, the woman walked up behind me, pretended to stumble, and full-on kicked my left ankle.

Woman: “Oops, sorry!”

I yelped in pain, now fully pissed off and crying in pain. I turned around and pointed to my visibly swollen ankle.

Me: “Okay, b****, look at my ankles! Do you notice the difference in sizes? I’m actually in a lot of f****** pain! I just got off a ten-hour shift being on my feet the whole day and have multiple injuries in this leg!”

Woman: *Surprised* “Well, how am I supposed to know that?”

Me: “You aren’t because we don’t know each other! But you decided to make my problems your business by saying I’m faking it and then kicking me.”

An employee walked up after hearing my yelp and the commotion.

Employee: “What seems to be the issue here?”

Me: “I was accused of faking an injury because my generation sucks and then was kicked in my bad leg.”

Woman: “She’s faking it and you can tell she can walk just fine. I didn’t mean to kick her. I stumbled and it just happened.”

Employee: *To me* “Would you like to police called to file a report?”

The woman went pale white and started to stutter.

Me: “No, I just want this lady to f*** off, and I want to finish shopping and go home!”

The woman tried to continue pleading her case but instead got kicked out of the store, and I got a discount on my groceries!

I don’t think she injured my ankle any more because this morning, there wasn’t any bruising and the swelling had gone down.

Ordering Cake Isn’t A Piece Of Cake

, , , , , , , | Working | October 12, 2021

We have a new coworker who just defended his dissertation, so he is now officially a PhD. I ask him his favorite cake and he says tres leche, so I end up ordering it at a popular discount grocery store chain known for their Mexican-leaning products. I order it for pickup at 7:30 am so I can get it on my way into the office. I have to give my phone number about six times, but I think nothing of it until I get there to pick it up and it isn’t ready!

Me: “Hi. I ordered a cake; it is under [My Name].”

Baker: “It isn’t ready.”

Me: “What do you mean, it isn’t ready?”

Baker: “I just got here at seven-thirty. It will be ready at eleven.”

Me: “Ooooookay. But I ordered it for 7:30 am.”

Baker: “I just told you I got here at seven-thirty. I can make you a cake for eleven.”

I’m thinking she doesn’t understand I have already placed an order.

Me: “I ordered it on Monday. It is under [My Name] for seven-thirty.”

Baker: *Frustrated* “I told you I got here at seven-thirty.”

This goes on a couple more times. I keep trying to figure out how the heck her getting in now has anything to do with a cake I ordered for 7:30 am. Each time, I ask a different clarifying question and get the same response. All the while, I shift from thinking that she’s assuming I am currently trying to order a cake and she just got in and needs to ask someone to thinking she’s explaining she is very late and making it my problem.

I used to work at this grocery store, and from experience, there is usually a night crew that works from 2:00 am to 6:00 am baking cakes and bagels.

Me: *Fed up* “Can I speak to a manager?”

Baker: “Fine.”

Turns out that they had tried to call me using whatever bad number they had written down to tell me my cake couldn’t be ready until 11:00 am because the baker that was supposed to be scheduled to make it the night before couldn’t come in. It would’ve been really great to know that context at any point in the conversation.

When I finally picked it up, Ms. Baker was not only rude and dismissive, even as I tried to apologize for getting heated, but she hadn’t even made the right cake! I went online afterward and found that all the one-star reviews for their store over the past month had been from the bakery and their attitude. Color me surprised.

“Essential” Is Relative, Apparently

, , , , | Right | CREDIT: iMorgana_ | October 12, 2021

I work in a big grocery store as a full-time cashier and customers are not adjusting to our new rules. We’ve blocked off all items that have been deemed non-essential. A lot of the time, though, people will ignore those barriers and take items off the shelf and then attempt to sneak through self-checkout with them. A lot of the time, they get caught.

A lady in her forties came into the store. She put items for a party (non-essential) in her cart and went to the checkout. My coworker told her right off the bat that she was not allowed to sell those items. The lady left her till and went to three different ones, hoping someone would ring her through. We all denied her. She left the checkout and circled the store so she wouldn’t be seen going into self-checkout.

She managed to pay for her items and left her cart at the service desk so she could go to the bathroom. One of our front-end managers noticed all the birthday stuff in her cart and took it, so when the lady returned, she had to have everything refunded. She was mad but took the refund. She left the service desk.

After a little while, she came back through self-checkout AGAIN with the same stuff, hoping she could sneak through. One of the attendants caught her and another front-end manager said if she could not follow the rules, then she needed to leave.

So, she left. And we thought that was the end of it. Nope.

I was sitting at the service desk on my mini-break when the phone rang. My manager went over and answered. A woman on the phone says she needs to speak to a manager. The conversation went like this.

Manager: “I’m a manager. How can I help you?”

Woman: “My daughter was just inside your store, and you wouldn’t sell her birthday candles?”

Manager: “Yes, that’s correct. She tried five different times. But we’re not allowed to sell them.”

Woman: “Why the h*** not? We need them.”

Manager: “They’re a non-essential item by the saying of the government. I truly cannot do anything about it.”

Woman: “Why couldn’t you make an exception? It was only candles!”

It wasn’t. It was a bag full of birthday party stuff.

Manager: “We can’t make exceptions unless we are looking to get fined.”

This whole spiel went on for about five minutes, with the lady ultimately saying she wouldn’t shop here again and that she wanted to make a complaint, to which my manager said, “If you want to make a complaint, you can call corporate,” and hung up on this lady.

Please just follow the rules. It makes all our lives a little easier.

People Are Getting Crabby About The Shellfish

, , | Right | October 9, 2021

Years ago, I worked as a seafood clerk at a local supermarket. I had a lady purchasing a lobster.

Customer #1: “Can you deduct the weight of the lobster’s shell from the scale?”

Tare weight, such as bags or other containers, is deducted from the scale so the customer only pays for the product.

Me: “I don’t know how to determine the weight of just the shell. And if there was a way to do that, management would probably frown on such a practice. We do sell frozen, canned lobster meat if that’s all you want.”

Customer #1: “The guy who used to work here did it for me all the time!”

Me: “That may be why he no longer works here.”

She paid for the lobster, shell and all.

Another customer wanted fillets of a fish we only sold whole. This isn’t a problem, as everyone in the department is skilled at fileting, steaking, deboning, and gutting fish.

We would prepare your selection any way you liked at no additional cost, but you paid for the whole fish, as there wasn’t sufficient demand to have them pre-cut in the case, and therefore, we had no separate code for them.

Customer #2: “Why should I have to pay for the whole fish?! I’m only taking the filets home!”

He was still incensed at the notion, even after I explained the policy to him.

Customer #2: “I want to talk to a manager.”

The manager said the same thing I had. I offered to just sell him the fish whole, and he could do the prep work at home.

You can’t please everyone.