My family went on a vacation to a famous city in Italy during spring last year. During the trip, we visited a small local souvenir shop selling glass pieces. The store was empty with only the owner working. That should have been a hint since the two stores beside them (which also sold glass pieces) had other customers.

My father and I were both carrying backpacks on our backs. My mother and I walked into the store first to “ooh” and “aah” over the beautiful pieces. My father was about to enter, and we noticed that he was stopped by the owner, and then he started to carry his backpack with his hands.

Me: “What happened?”

Father: “There’s a sign on the door asking people with backpacks to carry their backpacks in their hands.”

I looked back and saw the sign… as well as the owner, who hadn’t returned to her cashier desk but was standing quite close to us with an annoyed expression and staring in our direction.

I quickly smiled, apologized, and started carrying my backpack with my hands.

But she still stood there and stared at us like a hawk. We moved to the back of the store, and every time I looked back, she was about two meters away from us and just staring with an annoyed look. She didn’t greet us, offer us help, or organize the stock. The whole time, she also never said a word to us.

My father excused himself and left the store, but the owner was still staring at my mother and me. Then, another woman and a man walked into the store. The man was carrying a backpack on his back. The owner looked at them briefly and then continued to stare at us. My mother quickly suggested we leave, so we did.

We talked afterward and concluded that the owner was probably treating us like thieves. The difference in treatment was weird. But my mother suggested that it might have been that we were Asian and the owner had recently been stolen from and the thief just so happened to be Asian, too.

We just shrugged it off and went to another store, where the owner was very friendly, and we got the products we wanted to gift and keep for ourselves.

But to be honest, treating your customers like thieves is an extremely bad way to do business.

The board game café and pub I used to work at taught me many things, and one of those was to never mix business with pleasure without some strong guarantees.

The place’s owner had only me, his sister, and two close friends on call, with various flaky part-timers going through revolving doors for various reasons. Somehow, despite being placed fairly in the way of nightlife, and advertised in English, too, this was more than enough.

Then, one day, [Owner]’s sister found herself a girlfriend. Said girlfriend was at first merely invited to hang out at the cafè, but soon enough, she had started to invite friends over… and let them eat and drink for free.

The tales of [Sister]’s generosity soon spread to the extended friend circles, increasing the number of people occupying tables and eating or drinking for free little by little.

Things came to a head when, one Saturday night, the number of [Sister]’s friends and “acquaintances” was enough to occupy all but two seats, and the overall bill, by all accounts, should have been around 1,100€, instead of 0€. This was made worse by the fact that the people got hostile with patrons who did intend to pay to stay there and that [Sister] had forced me and a poor b*****d expecting an easy job to rush around to all the tables while being treated like dirt for not conjuring food out of our behinds.

The next week, the owner saw the expense ledger and demanded an explanation. Let’s just say it’s lucky he didn’t try to bite his sister’s head off.

As soon as [Sister] told her girlfriend that she was going to charge her for food and drink, she got ghosted.

Earlier this year, I discovered an aggregating service for single trading cards. Unlike [Other Popular Site], this one would let you make one large purchase, they would have the sellers send the cards you ordered to their warehouse, and then you paid for shipping at the time that you asked the cards to be sent to you. Part of what made me want to sign up with [Service] was that if you requested $25 or more worth of cards sold through their [Special Program] to be sent to you at the same time, you could get free shipping. Since they came from third-party sellers worldwide, it could take a while for the cards to arrive, so waiting until your stash built up was worthwhile.

After my first successful purchase and shipment, I reviewed [Service] on a review site, saying that potential customers shouldn’t be scared off by the reviewers who complained that they had to pay for shipping because you could get your shipping free if you followed instructions.

Excited as I was to continue using them, I put off making another order until my financial situation stabilized enough to spend the money — about six months or so. When I finally put together a second order, I noticed that there was no way to get free shipping. I contacted customer service via email.

Representative: “That was just a summer promotion to draw in customers from the USA. We had banners all over the site for months.”

I pointed out that it would’ve been nice to hear about the promotion coming to an end via email blast for those who hadn’t visited the site in a while, and I thanked the representative for explaining.

Before I placed my order, however, I went back to [Review Site] to update my experience:

Review Update: “I have no problem paying for shipping this time, but this will be my last order with [Service].”

Cue a barrage of emails from [Service] saying how unfair I was for “picking on [them] because [they] couldn’t keep a promotion going that made [them] lose money,” that they were just a “small Italian company” that couldn’t afford to offer free shipping long-term, and so forth. At no point did I deviate from my refrain of, “That’s okay. I understand. I’m perfectly willing to pay for the shipping,” but they kept pelting me with emails — several over the course of an hour or two — repeating their sob story.

Finally, I broke down and wrote back.

Me: “This is starting to feel like harassment. As far as I’m concerned, we’re down to one of two options: either leave me alone and I’ll pay for my shipping and we can end our business relationship there, or you can refund me [amount I paid for the cards I have waiting] and I’ll delete my account on your site. But I’m not changing my review.”

They stopped pestering me — which I’m grateful for — but they also didn’t tell me their choice. After they’d been quiet for a few days, I tried to log in to finally pay for my shipping and discovered that I’d been banned.

But at least I got my refund!

I used to work as receptionist at a hotel that had a private beach with sunbeds and umbrella. I am reading feedback from customers and this one stood out:

Customer: “I need to complain that the sun was too bright, and I got sun burnt! Also, the sea had too many algae! My suggestion is that the beach staff have to clean the algae in the sea.”

Mind you that the large waves in that period would just keep the algae coming on it, and that nobody told him that the Italian summer sun is so strong that he needs to put on some sun cream…

Related:
Customer Versus Mother Nature

In my time working as a waiter, both as a room server and as management, in a restaurant in the centre of Rome, there have been a lot of baffling complaints, sometimes about food, sometimes about the service, and sometimes about even the decorations’ arrangement. So, I kind of have seen them all, and I used to think I was prepared for pretty much everything.

Then, one day, during an off-season day, I see a family of four composed of two adults, one preschooler girl, and a boy who is clearly older than the girl. Beyond noticing them as they enter, I don’t pay much attention to them and let a waitress seat them, but then, after a little while, the same waitress seeks me out.

Waitress: “[My Name], the mom at table seventeen wants you to come over and talk to them. They’re foreigners, so be aware.”

And off I go. I see that the dad is saying something in his native language to the daughter fussing on the chair, and the mom is looking at me with a scowl on her face.

Me: *In English* “Good day. Have you asked for me?”

Mother: *Speaking slowly* “Yes! I asked your waitress if you had a playground here, but she said she did not understand.”

Me: *Blinking* “A playground? Inside here, you mean?”

Mother: “Yes, inside. You do have it, no?”

Me: “No, madam, we do not have a playground in this restaurant.”

Mother: *Gesticulating furiously to mimic the concept* “Again? I mean a place with small sliding things and climbing bars, not trees and sand.”

Me: “I got what you meant the first time; this restaurant doesn’t have either one.”

Mother: “Don’t be strict with words. I clearly mean a place where children can play away from the table.”

Me: *Resisting the urge to roll my eyes* “Madam, I know what you meant. In this restaurant, there is no playground, but you can have your children go around the table if they don’t disturb other patrons and the servers.”

The mother scoffs and says something in her language. I shrug and go back to my other duties until I get called again… for the same table.

Waiter: “[My Name], sir, come quick. Table seventeen is getting antsy.”

I am expecting a complaint about the prices. I am expecting a complaint about the lack of that d***ed playground.

I am not expecting to see the waitress from earlier having an incoherent shouting match with the mother, drawing the attention of nearby tables, while the girl is all red-faced and being restrained by the father, and the boy is looking at me pleadingly as I arrive. I rush to separate the two.

Me: “Wait, wait, wait! You all calm down this instant! What’s the problem here?”

Before anyone else can speak…

Boy: *In English* “Mom angry you have no play place. She ask me to pull sister skirt and do thing.

He mimes the gesture of pulling on a skirt and then pantomimes something unclear

Boy: “But I no wish to; is dirty and bad.”

The mother barks something at the boy while the waitress turns to me.

Waitress: “He’s trying to say he was refusing to change the sister’s diaper in the middle of the room. I intervened just as this lady tried to start changing the girl herself.”

Me: *In Italian* “Ah, so that’s how it is, huh? I’ll get to it.” *In English, to the family* “You pay up for what you consumed and get out.”

Mother: “No! You don’t give us access to a playground, I leave you a present. That’s my family’s way!”

At this point, the girl, well out of breath, is angrily seething on a chair, so the father is finally in condition to intervene and say something to his wife, which is enough to make her stop angrily gibbering. Instead, she leaves the bill on the table and then gets up to leave, taking the children with her. I leave to get the tab and present it to the man.

Father: *In English* “Sorry for my wife. We’re Czech, and she’s here just to take the usual pictures. She’s close-minded, and it was a fight to take her here instead of to McDonald’s.”

Me: “I could see that. But why the playground?”

Father: “A lot of Czech restaurants have one; she was convinced it worked like that everywhere. Again, I’m sorry for her behaviour.” 

And with that, he paid, tipped the customary 10%, and left in a hurry.