A customer comes to my station.

Customer #1: “Can you check a couple of balances for me? My phone won’t connect to the online banking app for some reason.”

Me: “Of course, sir. Can I see your ID and the account numbers?”

He hands me his ID and a slip of paper with a checking and savings account number. I pull the accounts and verify he is a co-owner on both. I also see a second savings account that he did not include in his list.

Me: “Okay, so the checking account has [amount less than $5], and the savings account listed has [amount greater than $1,000].”

The customer exhales.

Customer #1: “Wow. Okay. That’s why my debit card didn’t work. At least the savings is correct. Thank goodness she didn’t touch that.”

Me: “Do you want the balance of the second savings?”

Customer #1: “No, that’s not mine.”

He explains to me that he is getting divorced, and he is concerned that his ex will clean out all the accounts. The second savings is hers, so he’s not interested in that. But he wants to protect the money left in his account, since she’s cleaned out the checking.

Me: “I can open a new savings with just your name, transfer the funds out of the old account, and then close it. Would that work?”

Customer #1: “Definitely. Thank you! So, this old savings number won’t work?”

Me: “Correct. Do you want a separate checking, as well?”

Customer #1: “Yes, but not today. Can I come back for it?”

Me: “Of course, sir. Let’s get your savings taken care of.”

I open a new savings, transfer his money over, close the old one, and send him on his way. He is insistent that we not touch the old checking or the second savings. A couple of days later, he returns.

Me: “Oh, hi, [Customer #1]. How are you?”

Customer #1: “Good, thanks! Can I still open that checking account in just my name?”

Me: “Yes! Come on over and I’ll get you set.”

He takes a step toward my station, but a woman steps in front of him.

Customer #2: “I was here first. You serve me first.”

Me: “Ma’am, you just cut in front of another customer. Now, please go to the back of the line.”

Customer #1: “It’s okay. I’m in no hurry.”

[Customer #1] has a smirk on his face. [Customer #2] whirls around, stares at him, and then turns back around with a red face. The coworker next to me messages me that she is available to open an account, so I send [Customer #1] to her so that he does not have to wait. Elapsed time: about sixty seconds. [Customer #2] rolls her eyes.

Customer #2: “Are you ready to do your job now?”

I bite back a snide remark.

Me: “What can I help you with?”

Customer #2: “I need all the money in this savings transferred into my checking account.”

She hands me her ID and a savings account number that looks familiar. I pull it up and realize it is the savings account that [Customer #1] closed two days ago. The ID matches the second name on the account. If you guessed it, congratulations… [Customer #2] is his ex.

Me: “Ma’am, that savings has a zero balance and is closed.”

Customer #2: “Excuse me? I did not authorize that!”

I am restricted from disclosing who closed it. I can, however, drop a hint…

Me: “This account had two people on it, correct? So, in that case, only one of the account owners is required to be present to close it. I’d check with that second person.”

[Customer #1] turns, grins at her, and waves. She lets out an annoyed yell.

Customer #2: “Useless! Fine. Is the other savings account still there?”

Me: “It is.”

Customer #2: “I want a new savings in just my name, and I want the remaining money from the other savings and the checking transferred into it. Can you handle that?”

Me: “I can.”

I take care of this for her. When it’s complete, she grabs her paperwork and stomps out. My coworker and I just stare at each other.

Customer #1: “And now you both see why she’s my ex.”

He thanked us profusely, calmly collected his paperwork, and exited.

Usually, customers don’t like to talk to me as I have “resting b**** face,” but today a little old lady walked up and slapped a velour sweatshirt and matching pants on my belt.

Me: “Would you like the hangers?”

Customer: “I saw these on a young girl and she looked like a model. They’ll make me look like a model! You’d look like a model wearing them, too!”

I nodded along and repeated my question, speaking louder and pulling my mask away from my mouth in case it was muffling my voice too much.

Customer: “You just have to buy these and look like a model in them!”

I finally leaned forward to ask a third time if she needed the hangers, and she pulled the clothes off and tossed the hangers down the belt.

I rang them up and balled them into a bag and nodded as she started to wander off without her “model making” sweatsuit.

Yes, I did chase her down to give her the bag.

Related:
Model Behavior

Me: “Thank you for calling [Company]. This is [My Name]. How may I help you?”

Caller: “I need to order a calendar.”

I get her account information and start an order.

Me: “What is the item number of the calendar that you would like to order?”

Caller: “Well, I don’t have your catalog, and I’m not at my computer so I can’t look at your website, but I just need a 2022 calendar.”

Me: “We have a few hundred different calendars. Do you know what type of calendar you were looking for?”

Caller: “A 2022 calendar.”

Me: “Do you what style calendar you need?”

Caller: “Just a [Company] brand calendar is fine.”

It’s been three or four years since we’ve carried a self-branded calendar; we have a house brand that we’ve replaced it with but it’s no longer called [Company] brand. On a hunch that she might’ve ordered our self-branded calendar back when we did carry them, I pull up her order history to see if there’s anything still on file while I continue to narrow down the choices.

Me: “Is it a desk pad calendar, tent-style desk calendar, wall calendar, planner style, or something else?”

Caller: “It’s a desk pad calendar.”

Me: “And what size is it?”

Caller: “Hang on, let me check.”

While she has me on hold, I find a previous order from 2018 for a 22-by-17 desk pad calendar and plug it into our website to get the suggested alternate, which is our current house brand and is also on sale.

Caller: “It’s 22-by-17 size.”

Me: “Okay, I can recommend a 22-by-17 [House Brand] calendar. It’s a plain black and white design, and currently, it’s on sale for [price]. Will that work for you?”

Caller: “Yeah, that’s fine.”

It’s understandable that you can’t always look up an exact item number, but at least provide some details on what you want instead of making the employee play twenty questions.

I work in the deli and also handle catering orders at a supermarket. A woman ordered a fruit tray from us, and unfortunately, it wasn’t ready when she came to pick it up. The woman was not happy about it and started complaining to her teenage daughter.

I go over to hurry the fruit guy along, and after a few minutes, I return with the lady’s tray. After I hand it to her, she stares at it for a second.

Customer: “This is the wrong price.”

Me: “What is it priced at?”

She does not respond, instead holding the price tag like a dead fish. I have terrible vision, so I can’t read the tag from where I am standing, so after asking her three or four times, I reach out and gingerly take it from her hand.

Me: “Oh, yes, I see it’s priced wrong. Let me go get a new tag.”

Her daughter then whines:

Customer’s Daughter: “You didn’t have to do that. That’s rude.”

I am confused but just ignore her to go get the other tag. I come back with the correct price and stick it onto the box.

Me: “There you go! Have a great day!”

Customer: “Where’s my fruit tray?”

Me: “Excuse me, ma’am? What do you mean? It’s in your cart.”

Customer: “No. This isn’t mine. You gave mine to someone else.”

I am done. We are busy and I have a lot to do.

Me: “I don’t know what to say, ma’am. I gave you your tray. I have to go now. Have a good day.”

I turn and walk back to the cooler, at which point I hear:

Customer: “Wait! I’m not done talking to you!”

I look back and see her following me. As I walk into the cooler, I think I am safe. Wrong. This woman follows me into the walk-in cooler. Now I am panicking. I yell.

Me: “Get away from me!”

As I push through the carts and other things in the cooler, I hear my manager yell:

Manager: “Ma’am! You’re not allowed in there!”

I ran out the other side of the cooler and hid in the prep area until they left!

I’m in line at a small gas-station shop, with a man in front of me being very argumentative to the cashier (who has a distinct Middle Eastern accent) about cashing in a lotto ticket.

The cashier is waiting for his supervisor while trying to get through the line of people in the meantime. The customer in front of me grows impatient and starts mocking the cashier’s accent, eventually cumulating with him saying:

Customer: “Do you even speak English?”

Suddenly, from behind me in line, I hear:

Other Customer: “He speaks English fine. The problem is he doesn’t speak a**hole.”

I’ve never seen a more challenging figure than the petite, young, blonde woman responsible for that comeback.

The customer in front of me turned bright red and sulked in the corner, but otherwise waited without a peep.