What Came First: The Idiot Or The Egg?

, , , | Right | May 9, 2020

A man comes through my line with organic eggs. I ring it up.

Customer: “That’s not the right price. These eggs should be a dollar sixty-nine.”

That is the price for the cheap eggs.

Me: “These aren’t the [Cheap Brand]; these are the organic eggs, sir.”

I call over the management because I figure it is going to get complicated. We all know it is the right price, but we go through all the motions and the manager goes to check it. While they’re double-checking the price, the customer persists.

Customer: “I know the price; they were a dollar sixty-nine. I am a mathematical genius.”

I didn’t say it, but I thought to myself, “You might be a mathematical genius, but you sure as h*** can’t read.”

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It Should Be As Clear As White And White

, , | Right | May 8, 2020

Customer: “Hello, I need a passport photograph.”

Me: “Certainly, if you would come right this way.”

We go over and enter the tiny photography studio. The customer is looking DIRECTLY at the white wall in the back, behind the stool where we will take the photograph.

Customer: “The photograph needs to have a white background.”

I am trying my hardest not to sound sarcastic.

Me: “We’ll see what we can do.”

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An Open-Closed Case

, , , , | Right | May 8, 2020

I own an alternative gift and book shop, open six days a week, including Sunday. I can see the front windows and door from where I usually sit. And this scenario happens every. Single. Sunday.

People look in the front window. All the lights are on. I have a sandwich board out on the sidewalk which people look at. There is a bright yellow “OPEN” sign hanging on the door, just above the “Opening Hours” sign, which also states that we are open. I will often catch people’s eyes from where I sit behind the counter and wave at them, saying loudly, “Come in; we’re open!”

For some reason, at that point, they back away, saying, “Sorry, we thought you were open.”

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A Bruschetta Regretter

, , , , | Right | May 8, 2020

I overhear a coworker venting after hanging up the phone.

Coworker: “…so, I told her, ‘Ma’am, we don’t have a bruschetta-spinach salad. We have bruschetta as an appetizer, and we have a spinach salad.’ She got huffy and ordered a spinach salad. I hope she doesn’t get upset when [Delivery Driver] gets there. But man, she wanted to argue with me!”

About twenty minutes later, the phone rings and I answer it.

Me: “Thanks for calling [Restaurant]. How can I help you?”

Customer: *Politely* “Hi, how are you?”

Me: “I’m doing great. How about you?”

Customer: *Suddenly yelling* “I’m doing terrible! I placed an order for delivery and I didn’t get my bruschetta spinach salad! I was charged for it!”

Me: “Okay, ma’am, let me pull up the order. Okay, it looks like you were charged for [order] and a small spinach salad. Did you not get something?”

Customer: “Oh, I got it! I got the salad! But where’s my bruschetta spinach salad?”

I put two and two together.

Me: “We do not offer a bruschetta spinach salad. We have a spinach salad with [ingredients], and we offer bruschetta with [other ingredients].”

Customer: “I wanted the bruschetta! This is wrong!”

I put the woman on hold and turn to my manager to explain the situation. He decides to give her an order for free. The woman agrees and demands that it be delivered. A few minutes later, my manager tells me that the bruschetta is done and that it’s up to me to take it to her. When I get there:

Customer: “It’s about time! I pay good money to get my order right! This is coming out of your tip!”

I don’t mention that I’m not getting tipped for this trip anyway, especially since I am not a regular delivery driver. I also place a takeout menu in her bag, so hopefully, this experience won’t repeat.

A few weeks later, I’m working as a cashier again and I answer the phone, a customer placing a delivery for the same office building.

Customer: *Places order* “…and a bruschetta spinach salad.”

Me: “We have a spinach salad and a bruschetta appetizer. Are you perhaps after one of those? We don’t offer a ‘bruschetta spinach salad.’”

Customer: “No! That idiot girl last time told me that you don’t have it, but I know you do! I don’t want to have to call back to complain, and I don’t have a long enough lunch break to be dealing with this bulls***!”

It’s the middle of a rush and I snap.

Me: “Ma’am, nobody is trying to be dishonest with you. We. Do. Not. Have. The. Item. You. Keep. Trying. To. Order. We have two separate items. And to be completely honest, I feel that you are trying to run a scam to get free food. I do not appreciate you yelling at me, nor do I appreciate you insulting me or my coworkers.”

Customer: *High-pitched whine* “Well, how was I supposed to know?!”

Me: “Ma’am, you may not recall, but I do specifically remember placing a takeout menu in your bag the last time I brought you your free food. If you cannot find it, we do also have an online menu.”

Customer: *Screaming* “You b****! I don’t want to pay for this! I want my order for free! All of you f****** dip-s***s don’t know what the f*** you’re doing! This is f****** ridiculous!”

Me: *Flatly* “Madam, I have asked you politely not to insult my coworkers or me. I have also tried to explain in multiple ways what our menu offers, but you do not want to listen. I’m sorry, but I cannot give you your order for free just because we don’t have something you want. Your total is [total].”

Customer: “I TOLD YOU F****** B****ES THAT I’M NOT PAYING IF YOU DON’T HAVE MY F****** BRUSCHETTA SPINACH SALAD!”

Me: “Then we will not be able to deliver your order to you. Thank you for calling.” *Click*

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Sometimes The Longest Part Of The Trip Doesn’t Happen On The Plane

, , , , , | Working | May 8, 2020

I’m travelling for business and making a connection in Los Angeles International Airport. I’ve just come off a thirteen-hour flight across the Pacific and I’m exhausted. I collect my bag from the carousel and head on through. They have an area where they check baggage for international arrivals making a connection, which is nice.

Employee: “Place your bag on the belt. Can I see your ticket, please?”

I hand my ticket over and lift my bag onto the belt. He works for a moment, then frowns.

Employee: “I’m sorry, but our printer isn’t working so I can’t print a tag for your bag. Since you’ve already paid, I’ll give you a receipt. You need to go to the service desk and they’ll check your bag.”

Me: “No worries. How do I get there from here?”

The directions he gives me seem solid and I follow them to the best of my ability. I arrive at another desk which is completely deserted, and a bored-looking lady is there to see me. I try to explain the situation to her.

Me: “Hi. I tried to check my bag at the international connection area but they couldn’t print my bag tag and told me to come to the service desk to get my bag checked. They gave me this.” 

I hold out the receipt. [Employee #2] ignores the receipt and looks at my bag.

Employee #2: “You need to go through security.”

Me: “I… can’t. I have things in there which means this bag needs to be checked, not taken as carry-on. I was directed here to get it checked?”

Employee #2: *Suddenly* “What have you got in it?”

I don’t understand why she would want to know.

Me: “Makeup, body wash…”

Employee #2: “They’re going to take it off you.”

We get the attention of another employee who comes over.

Employee #3: “What does she want?”

Employee #2: “She wants to take her makeup through security.”

Me: “No. If you’d just liste—”

Employee #3: “They’re gonna take it off you, honey.”

They’re not listening to me at all, just standing there and repeating over and over that I need to get rid of my stuff. This goes on for a while. I look past the employees to the other side of the room and see body scanners, tubs, and conveyor belts for taking bags through scanners. It looks like security screening is behind this “service desk.”

Me: “I think I’m in the wrong place. Is this the service desk?”

Employee #2: *Still ignoring me* “You need to throw your makeup out.”

Me: “I’m just going to go back.”

I left. When I found the actual service desk, my issue is resolved quickly. I get that I was in the wrong place, but all they needed to say was, “This isn’t the service desk,” or, “We can’t do that here,” and I might have realised a lot sooner and saved us all twenty minutes.

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