I’m a personal shopper. I have been doing this job for nearly three years. When people place their orders online, I download it onto a handheld and I have to scan every item on their list. The handheld will not let me scan barcodes that are not on their list, nor can I just add random products to their order. Customers often blame us for their mistakes, but this one takes the cake. I’m putting away an order when a customer comes up to me.

Customer: “Excuse me?”

Me: “Yes?”

Customer: “My name is [Customer] and I had an online order earlier today and you people messed it up. It was only minor things, but you still messed it up. And now I have to come back here and fix it.”

I know I was the one who shopped this order and I didn’t mess it up.

Me: “What was wrong with the order?”

Customer: “First of all, you gave me unfrosted pop tarts when I ordered frosted pop tarts. And you also gave me fat-free chicken broth when I ordered regular chicken broth.”

Me: “Ma’am, I’m the one who shopped your order. You ordered unfrosted pop tarts, so that’s what I gave you. As for the broth, I know chicken broth can come in low salt and salt-free versions, but it’s naturally a fat-free product.”

The customer pulls the chicken broth out of the bag.

Customer: “No, you gave me fat-free and I wanted regular!”

Me: “That is the regular chicken broth. This is what you ordered. I have to scan in every item on your list, and both the broth and the pop tarts scanned.”

Customer: “They’re wrong!”

Me: “If you want, we can exchange the pop tarts for frosted ones easily. I’ll have to talk to my manager about the broth, though.”

Customer: “Fine.”

The customer storms inside to grab what she wants. I run to the customer service desk and give the CSM a heads up as to what’s coming. I also print out the order to show that I gave this customer exactly what she ordered. I hide close enough to overhear the CSM and customer talking.

Customer: “Hi. One of your shoppers messed up my order.”

The customer puts the “wrong” items on the desk along with the “correct” items.

CSM: “Yes, she told me what’s going on. She also printed out your order.”

Customer: “So you know she messed up. She gave me unfrosted pop tarts and fat-free chicken broth.”

CSM: “Actually, she didn’t. If you look here, these are the pop tarts you ordered. It says ‘unfrosted’ right there. That’s what she gave you.”

Customer: “Oh… It must’ve been the computer, then, because I would never order that. Who in their right mind would order unfrosted pop tarts?”

CSM: “Now, as for the chicken broth, again, she gave you what you ordered. This is the UPC here, and it matches the UPC on the container here.”

Customer: “But it’s fat-free! I meant to order this!”

She shoves some name-brand chicken broth at her.

CSM: “Okay, but this is also fat-free.”

The CSM points to where it says, ‘Fat-free on the package.

Customer: “It’s a different type of fat-free.”

CSM: “If you want to exchange the pop tarts, that’s fine. However, because you ordered the store-brand chicken broth, there will be a charge for this.”

Customer: “Okay.”

The customer paid and left. My CSM and I were left wondering what she meant by “different type of fat-free.”

We have an employee-only app to allow us to locate items in store and check stock levels, in case a customer has a query we don’t know the answer to. With the current health crisis, we’ve stopped getting some of the more superfluous, specialised items in stock, so we’re getting more questions.

After already discovering that one of his queried items is out of stock, this customer has one last request while I have the app out.

Customer: “And I know your counters are closed, but could you possibly check for jellied eels for me?”

Me: “As you said, I doubt we’ll have any, but I’ll have a look…”

The app is almost overeager, for want of a better word, on figuring out typos, so sometimes it overshoots.

Me: “J-e-l-l-i-e-d e-e-l-s…”

The app’s search results come back… with nothing but an abundance of various lubes.

Me: “Oh, uhh…”

Customer: *Seemingly oblivious* “No, none of those look right. Thanks for looking, anyway!”

I deliver groceries to customers in my van. We have this one particular troublesome customer who has complained many times, mostly about us parking in her driveway. For some reason, any vehicle in her driveway sends her absolutely ballistic and results in our call center getting a flood of complaints. None of us understand it, as she doesn’t own a car herself, and her cul-de-sac has plenty of room so we wouldn’t be blocking anyone else in; she’s just chosen that particular hill to die on.

Today, is it storming heavily: wind, rain, localised flooding, you name it. I’m already wet and in a bad mood for my shift when I realise who I have next, and my heart sinks. I pull up to her very long driveway, look at the weather and say to myself:

Me: “F*** it.”

I park in her driveway, get out of the van, and am about to start unloading her groceries when I hear some shouting. It must have truly been cacophonous for me to hear it over the wind and rain. I look up and see a fuming red face leaning out of an upstairs window.

Customer: “How dare you! Get your van off my driveway! Now! Get it off!”

Me: “Ma’am! I am from [Supermarket] and I have a delivery for you!”

Customer: “Get your van off my driveway! You are forbidden to park on my driveway!”

Yes, she uses the word “forbidden.” Trying to prevent her personal meltdown, I drive the van back up to the entrance to her driveway, a good thirty metres from her front door (it’s a rather rich area!).

“Fine!” I think to myself. If she doesn’t want me on her driveway, then I shall do as I am told. I exit the van, to see the customer has now come downstairs and opened her front door, no doubt expecting me to carry each heavy box the thirty metres to her front door.

Nope.

Her face, amazingly, turns an even deeper shape of red as I start to unload all her groceries right there at the door of my van, all in plastic bags but still exposed to the elements. I can hear her roaring and complaining but due to the distance and weather I can’t make out any words, and honestly, I don’t care. 

I quickly finish unloading the groceries, sarcastically tip my hat to the screaming mass of customer still standing at her front door, and drive off.

I finish my deliveries and get back to the supermarket at the end of the day, and my manager approaches me.

Manager: “I got a complaint about you today.”

Me: “Let me guess; driveway lady?”

Manager: “The very same.”

Me: “What did she say?”

Manager: “A lot of swearing. She wants you fired.”

Me: “Am I?”

Manager: “No. Instead, I told her she’s no longer a welcome customer with us and has been blacklisted, and she will have to come in and get her own d*** groceries from now on.”

And all because she couldn’t handle our van being on her huge driveway!

Tell your story today! Ever been able to maliciously comply with a bad customer? Share it with the NAR community so we can all enjoy it too!

I realize I don’t have sour cream for dinner, so I decide I’ll pop in and grab some on the way home. I am standing there, considering the sizes for way too long, and I finally get what I need and turn to go to checkout. There is a woman standing there, staring at me.

Woman: “Where’d you get that?”

I think she is talking about the sour cream and I show her. She huffs and points at my face.

Woman: “No, your mask!”

I am wearing a purple raven mask. I love ravens and they’re on my family crest. It’s really pretty.

Me: “Oh, online.”

Woman: *Semi-demanding* “Can I see it?” 

My first thought is to be a smart aleck and say, “See with your eyes, not with your hands,” but I control myself.

Me: “I’m not talking off my mask.”

Woman: *Whining* “C’mon!” 

I decide I’ll use logic on her. That may have been a stupid choice.

Me: “I’m not taking off my mask in public so a stranger can handle it and then putting it back on.”

Woman: *Yelling* “You’re just being selfish!”

And then she grabbed at my mask! The nut tried to snatch the mask off my face! I staggered back and nearly fell into the dairy case. All I saw were flailing arms. I got out of reach and the dairy guy came running over.

The woman kept yelling that I stole the mask from her; she was wearing a paper mask. The dairy guy got the manager there.

She kept insisting the mask was hers. The manager suggested watching the CCTV and she got real quiet. Then, the manager told her to leave and not come back. I got my sour cream. Weirdo.

Related:
An Ugly Side Of Society Has Been Unmasked, Part 3
An Ugly Side Of Society Has Been Unmasked, Part 2
An Ugly Side Of Society Has Been Unmasked

I work in a grocery store overseeing the self-serve machines. I have to clean every machine between customers, something that’s generally pretty easy to do given how quiet things are. As I’m cleaning, a sweet-looking older American lady beckons me over.

Customer: “Excuse me. I’m sorry about this, but I’m a teacher, so I have to say it.”

She then explains to me in vivid and graphic detail exactly how the chemicals from the cleaning spray I’m using will enter into my body and eventually settle in my liver, leading to my death. I laugh awkwardly, not sure of what to say.

Customer: “I’m sorry. I’m an English teacher and my sister is a science teacher. She learns about this stuff and tells me about it. I’m sorry.”

She then carries on explaining how even dusting your house will destroy your liver, and how we should basically be wearing full hazmat suits with face coverings and goggles whenever we do any sort of cleaning, all backed up with detailed scientific fact. Finally, she pays and goes to leave.

Customers: “Bye. Thanks for your help. Sorry about all that.”

I continued cleaning each machine after she left, now with the knowledge that every squirt of the bottle was dragging me closer to the bleak inevitability of an early death. Thanks, lady.