Self-Check Your Signs

, , , , , | Right | March 8, 2018

(All of our self-checkout lanes are currently out of order. We have signs up on each one of the screens explaining this, as well as a rack of plastic bags placed on each one to discourage use. Most customers, however, still attempt to check out at these lanes. A customer walks up to self-checkout, noticing the bags in the way. She makes a face, removes the bags, and attempts to scan her items at a black screen. She does this several times before coming to my lane.)

Customer: “I couldn’t use the self-checkout!”

Me: “Yes, ma’am. They’re broken. They have been for a month now. That’s what the signs are for.”

Customer: “…”

A Clearance On Bad Customers

, , , , , | Right | March 7, 2018

(In the store where I work, we often have some items of a kind of material on clearance while others are not. We leave the clearance items on the shelf, but the clearance items are clearly marked with red and yellow labels, while the regular items have the usual white labels. This has never been a problem, until one day one of the checkers calls me up to the register to do a price check.)

Customer: “This ribbon is $2.00! You’re trying to charge me $4.99!”

Me: “I’m sorry about the mix-up, ma’am. I’ll go check on that for you.”

(I go and I immediately see the problem. There are no old sale signs left up, and all the merchandise is clearly marked, but okay, people make mistakes. I radio the checker and explain, but when I head back up to the front, the customer is ranting.)

Customer: “That’s not true! It’s clearance! The whole shelf was clearance!”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but the ribbon you have is regular price. The ribbon right next to it was on clearance. You may have just looked at the wrong label.”

Customer: “NO! It was the WHOLE SECTION!”

Me: “I can show you what I mean, if you would like.”

Customer: “Fine. Show me.”

(She smiles all smug, like she’s got me, and follows me back to the aisle.)

Me: “See, this yellow ribbon was on clearance, but the orange ribbon you want is right next to it. See how this label is for yellow and this one for orange is regular price?”

Customer: “You expect me to be able to read that?!”

(The labels are two completely different colors, but again, okay, the customer is elderly. Also, I am much taller than she is and closer to eye-level with the labels concerned. However, there are two shelves right below that one with the same kind of ribbon and the same mix of red-and-yellow clearance labels and white labels. I point that out.)

Me: “Fair enough. I’m sorry. See here, how some of this ribbon is clearance and some of it isn’t?”

Customer: “Well… well… There’s nothing there!” *points to a section of the shelf where we’ve sold out of some of the clearance ribbon*

Me: *trying really hard not to snap at her* “Yes, because those were on clearance and now all of them have been bought.”

Customer: “Well, THAT label says clearance! That means the whole shelf is clearance!”

Me: “Um, ma’am, as you can see, all the ribbon colors have their own price listings right underneath each one.”

Customer: “NO! It isn’t clear! That one said clearance and I thought all of this was clearance! It’s misleading!”

Me: “I’m sorry for the confusion. There are different labels here.”

Customer: *clearly just feeling stupid at this point and trying to save face* “IT’S NOT CLEAR!”

Me: *seething inwardly* “I’m very sorry. The orange ribbon is regular price.”

Customer: “Well, I’m going to return it!” *draws herself up and smirks at me like she’s just struck a killing blow and I will grovel and beg her forgiveness*

Me: “All right. You can do that at any open register.” *walks away*

(Sure, lady, our large chain store will never recover from losing the sale of one five-dollar roll of ugly ribbon. The sad thing is, if she had been polite and hadn’t gone to such lengths to blame us for her own mistake, I would’ve been happy to give her her stupid ribbon for the clearance price, just the once. It just goes to show that being an a**hole won’t get you any favors.)

A Depressing Statistic

, , , , | Healthy | March 7, 2018

(I have severe ADD and take Ritalin. I have been seeing a psychiatrist every six months for over a decade because it’s necessary to keep my prescription up, but normally we don’t do anything else. He asks me if I’m having side effects, I say no, he asks how school, work, or whatever is going, I tell him, he writes me a new prescription, and we’re done.)

Doctor: “And how are your classes going?”

Me: “Pretty well, except for this one lab where the whole grade is based on group work and my groupmates have disappeared…”

(I’m very frustrated with my classmates, and as I explain the problem with the lab, I start crying.)

Doctor: “Here, take these tissues! I had no idea you were so depressed. I’m going to prescribe you some medicine, and I want you to come back in a week for a follow-up.”

Me: “What? No, I’m just sleep-deprived! Your office is an hour from my house, and you get behind schedule so fast that my mom insists I book an appointment at seven am. I had to get up at 5:30 to be here! I’m a night owl; I get up at 10 or 11 if I don’t have anything I have to do earlier. I always cry too easily when I’m tired.”

(He doesn’t believe me and prescribes the medication, anyway. A week later, I’m back in his office.)

Doctor: “How are you feeling? If we need to, we can adjust the dosage before your next follow-up next week.”

Me: “Fine, like I was before, when I had slept. I know antidepressants take a while to kick in, but I don’t think these are ever going to affect me, because I’m not depressed. And I really can’t afford to keep experimenting with them; you know I don’t have insurance.”

Doctor: “I tried to find the cheapest antidepressants I could. I thought these were only about $10 a bottle.”

Me: “Come here. I want to tell you a secret.”

(He comes closer.)

Me: “You know those nice ladies behind the window in your lobby? They make people give them money before we can talk to you.”

(It had never occurred to him that visiting a psychiatrist every week instead of every six months might be a little pricey! I went off the antidepressants and am fine, as long as I don’t have to get up before dawn. Doctors, I know that lots of people really are depressed and it’s a serious problem, but people also know their own bodies, minds, and situations. It helps to listen.)

Banned From Getting The Band

, , , , , | Working | March 7, 2018

(My fiancé and I have decided, two weeks prior to our wedding, to finally go to the jewelry store and pick out wedding bands. As we both dislike most jewelry, we have decided on getting plain, white gold bands to match my single-stone, white gold, 1.5-carat Moissanite ring. We decide to check out a jeweler in the department store I work at, meaning I would get an employee discount. We’d gone to another jeweler for the Moissanite, because the one at the department store doesn’t have Moissanite rings, and I am very specific about not having a diamond.)

Me: “My fiancé and I are looking for wedding bands. We want simple—”

Clerk: *grabs my hand* “Oh, what a gorgeous diamond! I have several wedding bands that will match!”

(She drops my hand and goes to a nearby jewelry case. Within 45 seconds, she brings out a gigantic onyx and diamond monstrosity for him, and a silver, three-stone, two-carat engagement ring for me.)

Clerk: “This is only $3,560! A steal at that price!”

Me: “What I was trying to say is that we would like plain, white gold wedding bands. No stones; I’d prefer my Moissanite to stand out on its own.”

Fiancé: “Yeah, those aren’t even an option based on the stones alone. And that looks like an engagement ring. Also, she works at [Department Store], so we were wondering about the employee discount?”

Clerk: “Yeah, it’s an engagement ring. It’ll work; I promise. I mean, you could always get rid of that single stone; it’s too small.”

(She briefly explains the discount. Over the next half-hour or so, she shows us about ten different options at decreasing price points that are not anywhere near what we wanted, promising each time that we’ll like her selection and that she’ll get us what we want. I clarify several times that we would really like to see plain rings. At one point, I notice a full case of plain rings right behind her, on the back wall of the store. I ask her about the case, and she ignores me. I am getting increasingly irate, and in response to her showing me a $599 engagement ring and wedding band set and sneering at me with disgust as she does so, I finally snap:)

Me:As I have stated, several times, I would love to see any of your plain. White. Gold. Rings. Don’t bother showing me another one. I’m sure that [Competitor], the place I bought my Moissanite from — with my fiancé — would be able to give us what we want.”

(She ignores me, of course, so she produces yet another diamond encrusted piece of “f*** this.” A $200 wedding band, at this point. She glares at me. I turn and walk out without another word.)

Fiancé: “You have done a fantastic job at ignoring everything we’ve stated. Goodbye.”

(Less than five minutes later, we arrive at the competitor.)

Me: “Hi! We were looking for wedding bands.”

Jeweler: “Of course! I have an entire case right here. What were you looking for? We have silver, white gold, gold, 14k, 10k, with stones…”

Fiancé: “Ah, just plain, and white gold to match her ring.”

(After a brief exchange of information to bring up my account:)

Jeweler: “Oh, what a beautiful Moissanite!”

Me: “Thank you! I get asked, ‘Is it real?’ all the time, and I’m like, ‘Yes, it does exist!’”

Jeweler: *laughs* “Very good choice, I must say. Your ring is a 14k, but I recommend a 10-carat for you, sir.”

Fiancé: “Excellent, thanks!”

(We selected our rings, and our transaction was processed within 15 minutes of our arrival in the store. We got a better deal with them than anything I was being offered at the other place, so I was quite happy. As we were walking past their shop-front, I saw the woman in her shop. She glared at me with her arms crossed. I smiled and waved at her with the hand that was holding my new ring.)

Not Even My Customer And I’m Getting Grief

, , , , | Right | March 7, 2018

(I work for a small Internet company.)

Me: “Thank you for calling B-Tape. My name is [My Name]. How can I assist you?”

Customer: “Yeah, I haven’t gotten my order, and I ordered last week. Can you track it?”

Me: “I can help you with that. Do you have the order number?”

Customer: “Yes. It’s [number].”

Me: “I’m sorry, miss, but I can’t find that order. I can try with your email.”

Customer: “Sure, it’s [email].”

Me: “I can’t find it with that email. I can try with your address.”

(I cannot for the life of me find this lady’s information, no matter what she gives me. I am trying for eight minutes because she is so adamant this is an order with us.)

Me: “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but I could not find your order or an account. Are you sure you placed it with us? Maybe it was with another company. We are B-Tape.”

Customer: “Look, you took my money. I just want my order. I placed it with you last week. YOU HAVE MY MONEY. So, where is MY ORDER?!”

Me: “I will be more than happy to give you this information, but I do need to find your account. Was it under another email, by chance? Or maybe another shipping address?”

Customer: “My billing address is my shipping address. And I only have one d*** email. I’ll find it; watch!”

Me: “Sure. If you can let me know which department it was sent from, I can confirm the order number on my end, too.”

Customer: “It says it right here, ‘Order [number], placed Tuesday, with T-Stamp.’”

Me: “Oh, I see what happened. We’re actually B-Tape. That’s why I couldn’t find your order. You ordered from another company. I can Google their call center number so you can call them directly after we hang up.”

Customer: “But I already have you on the phone. So, why aren’t you giving me my order. Are you guys a scam? Like fraud?”

Me: “No. We’re B-Tape. B like ‘boy.’ You ordered from T-Stamp.”

Customer: “Yes, T like ‘toy.’ That’s your company. I’m not stupid.”

Me: “There’s some confusion. We both have similar names. But we’re spelled B like ‘Bobby,’ T-A-P-E. You ordered from T like ‘toy,’ S-T-A-M-P.”

Customer: “Oh, wow. If you knew I had the wrong place, why didn’t you tell me?!”

(She muttered about me wasting her long distance and hung up on me after 15 minutes.)

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