I work at a drugstore chain that gives you really long receipts. I have argued with people who believe that they are at another popular drugstore chain.
I have had to take people outside to look at the sign on the building because the indoor signage — and the fact that I know where I work — just wasn’t enough for them.
It’s a rainy Tuesday in December, and as such, the golf club bar is completely deserted and has been for a while.
In between bouts of chatting and chilling out, my coworker, our manager, and I have been doing various administrative and cleaning tasks around the place. Currently, we are just finishing with cleaning the lines to the beer taps.
As the keg is reconnected and we begin to pull fresh beer through the newly clean pipes, I notice that a fixing on the tap is loose and begin to tighten it up.
Anyone who has ever tightened anything with a threaded bolt has likely heard the helpful phrase “righty-tighty, lefty-loosey,” which lets you know which way to turn the thing depending on what you want to achieve.
Unfortunately, this particular fixing is reverse-threaded. I twist it a quarter turn to the right, which is enough to completely undo the fixing, and the top of the tap falls off.
The section that falls off contains the valve that stops the beer from flowing unless the tap is opened. This becomes apparent when a geyser of lager sprays forth from the remaining section of the tap, covering me, the ceiling, the bar, and the floor in amber goodness.
I yell for my colleague to first pass me several jugs and then to run upstairs and disconnect the keg while I catch the fountain in the jugs I’ve been given.
Eventually, the keg is disconnected and the torrent subsides. So, I’m standing there, shirt transparent with beer, with more of it puddling around my feet and all over the bar, when our first golfers for several hours enter.
“So, the beer’s off, then?” one of them asks.
Happily, my sense of humour hasn’t completely deserted me, and I’m able to chuckle in response, before the manager comes back into the room to relieve me to go home and change my clothes.
When I return, the tap has been reassembled and a sticker has been applied to the main section, just above the offending fixing, reading:
“Caution: unscrews to the right!”
My mother bought my daughter a laptop for school and speech therapy. Despite being five at the time — seven years old now — my daughter takes pretty good care of it, and nowadays, I make sure it has a spot and its charger does, as well. My daughter also has had her share of tablets: two that died out after getting their money’s worth, and one that for some reason stopped responding to her finger.
My mother is asking me about it one night.
Mom: “Hey, where is that tablet I got her?”
Me: “The old Windows one? That broke at [previous address]. Remember?”
Mom: “WHAT? I JUST BOUGHT THAT!”
Me: “No… you didn’t.”
Mom: Yes, I f****** did! It was $700!
Me: “None of her tablets has ever been that much.”
Mom: “The one with the keyboard!”
Me: “The old Windows one. Yeah, that’s the one that finally died after two years of use.”
Mom: “Where is her tablet?!”
Me: “Do you mean the ONN brand? Either in the house or car.”
She becomes very annoyed at this.
Me: “Do you mean her Switch? It’s in her room.”
Mom: “What the h*** is a Switch?!”
Me: “That pink console she had at Thanksgiving.”
Mom: “No! Her tablet I got off of [Website]!”
Me: “You mean her laptop?”
Mom: “Oh. Yeah. Where is it?!”
Me: “Corner of the kitchen table on its charger.”
Mom: “Okay.”
Dad: “How did you forget it was the laptop that was that much money?”
Me: “Had you said that first, I would have told you exactly.”
Mom: “Is it charged?”
Me: “What part of ‘on its charger’ did you not hear?”
Mom: “…”
Me: “I didn’t think your memory was that bad, Ma! Also, you bought that when the [health crisis] started… which was last year.”
Mom: “Oh…”
She looked around after that and I just started laughing. I try not to let arguments that she and I have get too much in the way because I know that in some cases, like this, my mother’s memory will not serve her well, or in any justice whatsoever.
I am Mexican, from Monterrey, and was studying in London. I had to fly back to Monterrey to my brother’s wedding, but I couldn’t change my ticket online, so I tried ringing the airline’s phone number. After being on hold for ages, I decided to go to the helpdesk in the Heathrow airport, instead.
Once there, I explained that I needed to change the date of my ticket. The guy checked my ticket and proceeded with the change. When he printed the new ticket, I noticed that the destination was Monterey, California, not Monterrey, Mexico.
Me: “Sorry, this ticket says Monterey, California, and I’m going to Monterrey, Mexico!”
Employee: *Very condescending* “My apologies. I must have gotten confused by your accent!”
Me: “Regardless of my accent, I gave you a printed ticket that says Monterrey, Mexico. You must have gotten confused because you can’t read well!”
The guy just corrected the error without saying a word.
I am a manager in a fairly large and well-known craft store in the US and Canada. I’ve been working there for four years now, and I’ve had my fair share of headache-inducing customers. A few days ago, I had one woman that takes the cake.
On Tuesday, I am working on truck — putting new freight on the shelves — when a woman approaches me. She comes in frequently and she’s never the easiest to handle.
Customer: “I have a question.”
I put on my best customer service voice and smile.
Me: “Yes, ma’am? What can I assist you with?”
She proceeds to shove her phone into my face.
Customer: “The app says I will get my voucher within seventy-two hours of earning it. It’s been two days! I want my voucher.”
Me: “Ma’am, seventy-two hours is three days. It’s only been forty-eight. ”
Customer: “Well, I purchased $30 worth of stuff Saturday! Where is it?”
Yes, I know that it should be three days, but she originally said two.
Me: “Ma’am, I apologize, but I can’t do anything in-store. You’ll need to call the customer service line and they can help you. But it takes seventy-two hours for vouchers to update in the system and up to ten days for them to come through your email or app.”
Customer: “It doesn’t say that!”
Me: “You’ve asked us about it before and we’ve explained it before.”
She mumbles something about me being a b**** and walks off.
Twenty minutes later, I’m in the kids’ section putting up glitter. The customer sees the glitter glue pens.
Customer: “How much are these?”
Me: “$4.99.”
She grabs two packs and thanks me.
Ten minutes later, a cashier comes on the radio.
Cashier: “Can someone do a price check? A customer says these glitter pens are $1 but they’re ringing up for $4.99.”
I sigh and reply.
Me: “I helped her. They are $4.99. She’s aware of this.”
Cashier: “She’s heading back there.”
Great.
The customer points at the $1 tag for items below the pens.
Customer: “It says here they’re $1!”
Me: “Ma’am, they’re $4.99. I told you that when you asked a few minutes ago.”
Customer: “This says $1!”
I grab the hooks with the $1 labels clearly attached.
Me: “These are $1. Those are $4.99. The $1 is sold out. I apologize.”
Customer: “Then those should be $1!”
Me: “No? Those hooks clearly say they’re $4.99.”
She then points lower on the shelf.
Customer: “What about these? It says $2 but nothing is there.”
Me: “Yes, ma’am. That item is sold out ”
She points at the $2 and moves up to the glitter glue two shelves up.
Customer: “Then these should be $2.”
Me: “No, those are $3.”
Customer: “That doesn’t make sense! It should go up to the next item up!”
Me: “No. It is only for that item, not ones above it.”
Customer: “I’ve never heard of that before!”
She storms off.
Not even five minutes later:
Cashier: “[My Name], can you come up front? She wants a manager.”
I walk up front, mentally preparing for the crap show I’m about to walk into. The customer is glaring daggers at me.
Customer: “I have some complaints about how you run this store. First of all, the signs are not clear!”
Me: “Ma’am, we have the same system as almost everyone else. Prices are on the peg for that item. Not above it.”
Customer: “A regular customer like me doesn’t know that!”
I’m internally screaming and thinking, “Everyone knows that. My kids even know how it works.”
Customer: “Secondly, the sale sign over there says 40% off! They’re ringing up as 50%!”
Yes, she’s complaining about the items being on better sale than stated.
Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am. Corporate will sometimes have a higher sale for items for a couple of days and we won’t receive signs or be notified until we see it at the register.”
Customer: “This is ridiculous! I’m going to shop at your competitor!”
Me: “Sorry to hear that. Have a good day, ma’am.”
She came back in yesterday.
