(This airport has a few dozen parking spots for people waiting to pick up arriving passengers. The spots are in groups of three, with pillars next to the outside spots. Each pillar has a sign that clearly states there is a ten-minute time limit, and that vehicles must be attended with their trunks open. They are almost always full, so I normally drive through the pickup area and go to the cell phone waiting lot. Remarkably, I find an open spot and pull in since the person I’m meeting has already landed and does not need to wait on checked luggage. The lady in the next spot over walks up to me.)
Lady: “So, how are you going to open your trunk?”
Me: “I guess I can drop the tailgate if I need to.”
Lady: “I was just curious when I saw you pull in. I parked here and went into the terminal to check on my friend’s flight. I wasn’t gone for more than five minutes and when I got back they were writing me a ticket! They told me I couldn’t leave my car and I had to have the trunk open.”
Me: *pointing* “There is an electronic notice board that gives you the status of arriving flights. I’m actually surprised to find an available spot. It’s been a few years since I didn’t end up pulling around to the cell phone waiting lot.”
Lady: “Oh! I didn’t see that. I gave myself plenty of time so I got here early, but I wasn’t sure how long it would take to drive all the way around again. And it’s not busy. I told that person I’m not from around here. She said I can stay up to a half-hour. It’s just so frustrating. It makes me want to go back to [Fast Food Place] and get the money back I’ve spent in this town.”
(This happens when I am about fifteen and pretty naive. I am on a school trip to Manchester and my family has given me a LOT of money to spend on books, as I am an avid and passionate reader. When I go to the book shop, I see a display with a “buy one, get one half-price” deal, with every book marked with a sticker. I do not read the fine print. I just take one book with a sticker that interests me and then I wander around the shop searching for other treasures. When I am finally done, in a state of bliss, I have about five or six books with me. The cashier is working on the other side of the room and hurries over.)
Me: “Don’t worry; I’ve got time!” *puts my books on the counter* “And lots of books! My parents gave me a massive allowance just for this trip!”
Cashier: *laughing* “That’s like letting a child loose in a candy shop!”
Me: “Yeah! And I saw you guys have that half-price deal! Of course, I took advantage of that!”
(The cashier looks through the books, and after a brief pause, murmurs:)
Cashier: “Let’s pretend this one has a sticker, too.”
(I didn’t get what she meant; I just smiled happily. It took me THREE YEARS and another trip to England to realise what she meant: only the books from the display were part of the deal, while I had taken it to mean one book from the display and any random book from the shop. Thank you, kind cashier, for putting up with my youthful naïveté!)
(I am the bad customer in this story, but in my defense, I have explicitly told the recruiter I am not interested in being called by phone and this lady insists on calling me twice a day for two weeks on both my personal and work numbers. No amount of return calls, voicemails, and emails stops her from calling me. Also worth noting: this company sells seminars for customer service training.)
Me: *picks up the phone* “Hello?”
Sales Associate: “Hi. I am looking for [My Name]? I am with [Company].”
Me: “Hi, I am busy right now. I can’t talk.”
Sales Associate: “All right, well, why don’t I call back later? May I—”
Me: “No, you may not. I would really rather you not call at all.” *click*
(Go take one of your classes, lady.)
(I work in a store that is known for having an online grocery shopping option. Immediately out front is the online shopping pickup area. Even though it is blocked off somewhat and has signs that clearly say, “No parking. Online customers only,” and a call box, people still try to park in this spot. I have some form of this conversation nearly every day, sometimes multiple times a day:)
Me: “Excuse me, sorry, but you can’t park here. This is online shopping only. You need to move your car.”
Customer #1: “But it’s only going to be for a minute! What I want is right inside the door.”
Customer #2: “I’m only waiting for someone.”
Customer #3: “But I’m disabled!”
Customer #4: *pretends to not understand English*
(Every once in a while, a customer will leave their car just sitting in the spot while they run in. If we catch them, we tell the CSM so the owner can be paged. This is my favorite response from the CSM:)
Me: “There’s a car in the express lane.”
CSM: “Is there anyone in it?”
Me: “No, just a dog.”
CSM: “Did you ask the dog to move the car?”
(The best part is, if anyone tries to complain about me or one of my coworkers being rude and telling them to move their car, the customer will have to admit that they parked there.)
I am usually upbeat at work and have earned the nickname “Friendly” for my ability to handle even the most difficult customer at the small convenience store I work at. On this day, however…
A customer is looking through a display of beverages in glass containers, and they are either too lazy to put it back on the shelf correctly or totally misjudge the distance, because after removing a bottle from the display to read the back, the customer replaces the bottle, where it immediately falls and breaks.
My coworker is up front on our second register, so I immediately close mine and run over to mark off the area with cones, put on an orange safety vest that shows a stick figure mopping on the back — to indicate I am busy with cleanup and cannot provide customer service at this time — and begin cleaning up.
For whatever reason, every. Single. Customer entering the store decides to walk directly through the sticky pile of glass and liquid I am trying to clean up, even though there are several cones in a circle blocking the mess from every angle and space for customers to walk down two different unobstructed aisles to go around me.
At first, I attempt to be polite, but after about the fifth person walks past the cones to squeeze by me and literally crunches over the glass and slips on the puddle, I throw down the mop, which clatters to the floor, and scream, “STOP WALKING THROUGH THE F****** GLASS!”
I then calmly pick up the mop and continue cleaning. The store is absolutely silent for the next minute as I clean up the mess, put away the cones, and return to my register.
