Unfiltered Story #159093

, , , | Unfiltered | July 24, 2019

(We are primarily a wholesaler to builders and similar trades. The customer is complaining about a draught in his home and asks to look at some insulation, which looks like silver bubble wrap, at which point he kicks off, complaining about his home being cold, but what drives me over the edge)
Customer: I know what you are trying to pull here, this is just a gimmick!
Me: Sir! I’m fairly new to this job, but I can tell you that this insulation is based on the same principles as a thermal mug. There are three ways heat energy transfers, one is conduction, and this requires a solid. This is why there are bubbles of air in this insulation. Second is convection, which passes through liquids and gases, that is why the bubbles are small. Finally, there is radiation, which does not require either, however, heat transfer in this format is affected by the colour of the material in question. Silver is the worst conductor of heat radiation.
Customer: … *gets a paper and pen* Can you repeat that all for me? I really need to write this down.
(the sad part, I learned this during my GCSEs, and I’m in my late twenties now.)

Unfiltered Story #158327

, , , | Unfiltered | July 18, 2019

(We have a guy who is known for being surly to colleagues, and the only female he talks to is a girl of similar origin to his own, this happens in front of him, I’m a white female)
Me: Collection number [number]!
Customer: That’ll be me love, how are you today?
Me: Doing very well sir, and yourself?
Customer: Not bad, not bad, talking to [coworker] here waiting for my order. I hear people say good things about him, me, I just tell the truth.
(A few weeks prior, this guy demeaned the team I’m in to a customer, while right next to me. Thank you sir, for being a great regular and dishing a hot dose of karma!)

Has She Been Sniffing Paint?

, , | Right | July 17, 2019

(As I pass by the paint desk, I see my coworker talking to a woman who doesn’t seem to be very happy. She’s giving him a hard time and making a face at him like she doesn’t believe a single word out of his mouth, but I’ve been asked to help a customer in the next aisle and I know he knows what he’s doing, so I leave. Several minutes later, I’m headed back to the paint desk. As I pass, I see that there’s a can of paint sitting on the counter, and the same woman is approaching with a cart, still with a very sour look on her face. As I usually do, I greet her and ask her if everything looks right with her paint order.)

Customer: *gives a big, put-upon huff, and says* “I don’t think your guy knew what he was talking about.”

Me: “I’m sorry. Can I help you out?”

Customer: “I’m looking for [Brand #1]’s cabinet and furniture paint. I know I’ve bought it here before.”

(I’ve never heard of that specific paint before, but something clicks; several months ago I came across a mention of a [Brand #1] line that I’d never heard of before, and discovered it wasn’t sold in my country. I put this together and try to sound confident.)

Me: “They don’t sell that in Canada. I think [Brand #1] has a paint labelled for cabinets, but I’ve never seen it; most of the stuff from that line is only sold in the States. This is what we normally recommend for cabinets.”

(I brace myself for an unpleasant confrontation as I say this. Usually, when we have to tell someone that something is States-only, we get anger and disbelief, and I have actually zero knowledge of the product she’s looking for. For this customer, it’s like a switch has been flipped. The sour expression completely disappears from her face, and she actually laughs. I’m looking at her face and there’s no moment of confusion or sudden realization; one second she’s sour, the next she’s laughing and says:)

Customer: “That’s right. I bought it in the States!”

(She was then super pleasant and left with a smile on her face. Apparently, I passed a test of some sort?)

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Unfiltered Story #157538

, , | Unfiltered | July 11, 2019

I am the customer in this situation. The weeds has been something awful in our backyard all summer, to the point where no matter how much weeding we do, we cannot seem to keep ahead of them. My husband and I head to our local hardware store to look for weedkiller, which I generally dislike using but I am so frustrated that I am looking for the best bottled poison available.

Hardware Employee: Ma’am, can I help you find something?

Me: Yes, I am looking for some weedkiller. Something strong.

Hardware Employee: Well, we have this brand, which guarantees the weeds to stay gone for up to 90 days. *points me over brand in question*

Me: *inspects bottle* Anything stronger?

Hardware Employee: This is pretty strong, ma’am, it’s the strongest thing we carry.

Me: *absentmindedly* No, no, I need the weeds gone. Dead. *emphatic pause* Forever.

Hardware Employee: … *glances at my husband*

Husband: Honey, they don’t sell atomic bombs here.

I finally clue in, blank stare and all, and we all had a laugh before taking our weedkiller to the check out line.

Scheduling Their Own Demise

, , , , | Working | June 26, 2019

(I work at a hardware store. Our schedule comes out every Friday, and I take a picture of it every week with my phone so that I can transfer it to my calendar. Today, my shift starts at 9:00 am, and I arrive at 8:55. The manager, who is fairly new and hasn’t really gotten along well with me in the four or so months she’s been there, is waiting for me.)

Manager: “You’re late, you know.”

Me: “What? I thought my shift began at 9:00 am!”

Manager: “Well, I changed it because I needed you in at 8:00 am today.”

Me: “And you didn’t tell me about this? With all due respect, there is no way I could have known that I was going to be asked to start earlier.”

Manager: “Enough. Office, now.”

(She escorts me to the office.)

Manager: “Okay, listen. You’ve had a lot of issues with your attitude lately, and with this stunt of showing up late, you essentially dug your own grave. You’ve left me no choice but to let you go.”

Me: “You can’t fire me! I had no way of knowing that you’d change my schedule!”

Manager: “Well, it’s not my responsibility to communicate schedule changes. I’m not going to baby everyone here because they’re too lazy to check their own schedules. Turn in your nametag and your apron at the service desk, and then get out of the store. You are not welcome here anymore.”

(I reluctantly turned in my uniform, got in my car, and drove home. But I wasn’t going to give up that easily. I immediately contacted the company’s HR, explained to them what happened, and emailed them a picture of the schedule that I had taken. They told me that there was not much they could do, but they’d pass it on, anyway. A week later, I got a call back from one of the company’s higher-ups. As it turns out, an investigation had been launched against my store’s manager. They found out she had been singling out people she didn’t like, myself included, and changing their schedules at the last second to essentially give herself an excuse to discipline them. She had already succeeded in firing four other people this way before she fired me. But it was my decision to stand up after my firing and take it to HR that kickstarted the investigation that exposed the manager’s scheme. She was fired, and every disciplinary action she had unfairly issued was quashed. The employees who were wrongfully fired, myself included, were all reinstated and compensated.)

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