(I work at a homeware store and our policy is that we do not refund for a change of mind; however, the customer may exchange for another item. We also offer store credit, where we put their amount onto a gift card exclusive to our store; however, we can only do this if the value is over $10. A lady comes up to the counter with two items and a receipt, clearly indicating some form of a return.)

Me: “Hi! How can I help you today?”

Customer: “I just want to return these; I don’t have any use for them.”

(I make sure the items are still in their original packaging and haven’t been used, and I also check the receipt for their prices.)

Me: “Yup, everything seems fine, and it comes to a total of $6.00! Were you planning on doing any shopping today?”

Customer: “No, I’ll just take the amount back onto my card.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but we actually don’t do refunds for a change of mind, and the items are less than $10, so—”

Customer: “What? Where does it say this? No one has ever told me this!”

Me: *points to the large, white sign taped to the counter, then to her receipt* “It’s right there on the counter and also written on your receipt. We’ve always had this policy.”

Customer: “You can’t do this! I know my rights as a customer! I have a right to a refund!”

Me: “We’re not required to give refunds. We do usually offer store credit, but because the amount is less than—”

Customer: “Fine! I’ll just take store credit, then.”

Me: *trying to keep my cool* “Unfortunately, we can only process store credit for a value over $10. Your total is less than that, so I cannot give it to you in this case.”

Customer: *clearly frustrated* “WHY?”

Me: “The amount goes onto one of our gift cards, and they can only be validated with a value over $10.”

Customer: “This is ridiculous! You can’t just force people to spend their money like this! I demand you give me a refund!”

(My supervisor overhears this conversation and comes over.)

Supervisor: “What’s the problem?”

Customer: “You’re refusing me a refund! This is absurd! It’s only $6.00! If you’re not going to give me credit, I don’t see the point of buying something right away if I’m not going to have a use for it!”

Supervisor: *rolls her eyes at me, knowing I’ve already explained everything to the lady* “Yeah, it’s fine; just give her the refund.”

(I sigh and go and get the paperwork. I spend several minutes filling out all the details, have her sign it, and then go to process the refund.)

Me: “Okay, so that’s $6.00 back onto your card. Just tap it when you’re ready, and it will just ask for your PIN.”

(The lady presses the card to the machine and then places it back in her purse and stands there quietly for a few moments, waiting.)

Me: “So, it’s just going to need your PIN.”

Customer: “What? Why? It’s a refund!”

Me: “Yes, but the system cannot process the refund without a PIN.”

Customer: “But… but I don’t remember my PIN!”

Me: “There’s no way to do the refund without it.”

Customer: “Are you sure?”

(I nod coolly, because I know that if I speak it will come out as a scream.)

Customer: “Okay, maybe I’ll just have a look around and see if I can find anything.” *walks away*

Me: “…”

Coworker: “Un-f******-believable.”

(She came back an hour later with a trolley’s worth of items that added up to $110 after taking out the original $6.00 refund value. The moment she left, I went into the back room and screamed while my supervisor laughed her head off. It’s a good thing it wasn’t a busy day that day.)

(I work in a home improvement store in Canada. After speaking with a customer for a while, the conversation turns a little prejudiced.)

Customer: “Too many of them coming up from the south.”

Me: “The south? You mean, the States?”

Customer: “No, I mean from Mexico.”

Me: “Oh…”

Customer: “But you’re all right.”

Me: “How do you mean?”

Customer: “Well, you’re Mexican, aren’t ya?”

(I am of Irish, Scottish, and Norwegian descent and am obviously white in complexion. Also, my family has been in Canada since Colonization.)

Me: “Uh, no.”

Customer: “Sure you are.”

Me: “Nope.”

Customer: “Well, you’re from somewhere down south. You’re not Canadian!”

Me: “Sir, I’m from Barrie, Ontario.” *a city two hours NORTH of this location* “You can’t get more Canadian than that.”

(The customer scoffed and waved me off like I’d just told him the Moon was made of cheese, and found a more “Canadian” employee.)

(We offer a rough cut panel saw for the guys in the lumber department to make cuts for a few people. At first, we don’t charge the cutting fee — $.25 per cut after two cuts — but after a few people keep walking up for 20, 30, or 40 cuts at a time, we — or rather management — decide to start charging. One day, a student from the art department of the nearby university walks up to the saw with a bunch of wood to cut.)

Student: “I need each of these cut into three four-foot pieces.”

(With the number of boards, and the length, it’s about 14 cuts.)

Me: “You got it.”

(I measure and cut the boards to his wants. After the cuts, I give him a write-up of the cuts.) 

Me: “Okay, here’s your sheet for 12 cuts, as the first two are free!”

Student: “Wait, the first two are free? I thought they were all free!”

Me: “We started charging several months ago. We were supposed to be charging for a while but they started last year. Other stores have actually been charging all along.”

Student: “Well, you could post a sign!”

(I say nothing; I just point to the 8×10 sign behind him that says in big, bold print, “Wood Cutting $.25”!)

Student: “Um, well, you could put up more than ONE!” 

(Again, I say nothing; I just point to another sign on the other side of the saw saying the exact same thing.)

Student: “Aw, s***!”

(I am buying color-mix paint, where you choose a color from a card and then colorant is added to white paint to make the shade you have chosen. I have chosen a brick red color, and it is currently in the machine being mixed.)

Employee: “So, this paint gets returned a lot as it looks pink when you first apply it. You need to do two or three coats and let it dry, and it will end up the same color as the test card.”

Me: “Okay, that’s fine, as long as it ends up red.”

(The employee takes the paint out of the mixer and pops the top so I can see the color. It is bright pink.)

Me: “Wow, that really is pink! It does end up red, though, yes?”

Employee: “Yes, it really does. It even looks pink on the wall, but I promise when it dries it will be red. We keep getting customers returning this color and we have to tell them to go home and check it again when it’s dry. None of them have ever come back a second time.”

Me: “Okay, that’s fine, thanks.”

(I take my paint and go to leave, but as I do, a second employee comes into the paint mix area and happens to glance at the color I have chosen.)

Employee #2: “Oh! Did you know that this paint will look pink, but will end up red when it’s dry?”

Me: “I take it this happens a lot…”

(I usually work mornings in a big home improvement warehouse in the paint department. It’s usually pretty slow with regular contractors coming in. One regular just placed his order and I’m in the process of making it as he talks to another associate.)

Contractor: “He’s too young to be working here. How old is he, 12?”

Associate: “He’s actually the department supervisor. He runs it pretty well.”

Contractor: “Y’all must really be desperate. Shouldn’t you still be in school? Do you know anything about hard work?”

Me: “Sir, my father has a home remodeling company that I’ve been working with since I was 12. I took this job a year ago because I had to pick up some extra bills. I actually quit that job last month when I got this promotion.”

Contractor: “Yeah, it looks like he fired you because you can’t handle it.”

(Trying to hide my frustration, I spill a little bit of paint.)

Contractor: “Oh, you f****** moron. He fired you because you are clueless!”

(The associate then steps back as the customer starts laughing.)

Contractor: “You know nothing; I can see it in your eyes. You can’t handle a real man’s work so you joined this cake job.”

Me: “Sir, not like it’s any of your d***ed business, but I took this job because my father’s business started to fail because of his failing health. I had to quit and find a steadier paycheck to help pay his bills. I am 20 years old. I live in my own house and pay all my own bills, manage a whole department with seven people in it, and am completely self-sufficient. I don’t do drugs or stay up all week partying, and I for d***ed sure don’t critique people I have never met before in my life. Now, I would appreciate if you would stop trying to prove that you are some f****** amazing person when you are just an a**hole!”

Customer: “Where is your manager?! You can’t talk to me like this!”

(The associate that was originally talking to him was wide-eyed and the man started yelling across the store. My manager came running up to figure what was going on, and the customer then started going off about how I cursed him out and how I give horrible customer service. Since he comes in every day, he was given a discount and sent on his way. I was lucky enough not to be fired since the associate vouched for me saying the man started everything. I was only given a write-up.)