Unfiltered Story #193763

, | Unfiltered | May 3, 2020

I’m the co-owner of a store that sells printer cartridges, paper and so on.
Other than originals we sell also alternative cartridges who obviously have different codes than the originals.
A customer comes inside, claiming we gave him the wrong cartridge.
Me checking the printer code: “This is the black cartridge for your printer, did you want the colors one?”
Customer: “No it isn’t. The code for black is [Our Code For Color]”
Me: “No I’m sorry. That’s the code for the color cartridge. This is the black one”
Customer: “I can’t fit it inside, the shape it’s different!”
Me: “Yes. This series have a slightly different shape for the black and colors cartridges, so it won’t fit. It seems like you tried to put the black one in the color spot.”
Customer: “No, in my printer [OCFC] is the code for the black one”
Me, showing him the computer screen: “Again I’m sorry but no. As you can see that code is only for the colors one. If you wish, you can bring your printer here and I’ll install the cartridges”
Customer: “I need to print this evening, you need to change it” (note that it was around 16:30-17:00 or 4:30-5 PM)
Me: “There is nothing wrong with the cartridge. If you bring the printer I’ll install the cartridge”
Customer, seemingly calmer: “If you are so sure I’ll try again”
Saying that he got out, but the question remain: if I’m showing you that you are wrong, it’s so difficult to admit it?

Who Trusts This Woman With Money?!

, , , | Right | April 21, 2020

I work in a money exchange office. We’ve just installed an ATM outside, but it’s not functioning yet. Of course, we covered the entire screen with an “OUT OF ORDER” sign. I notice a woman pushing buttons and the card slot. Then, she turns back to me, looking lost, and she keeps pushing the buttons on the ATM.

Customer: *Screaming* “Where is my card? It stole my card; why is it not giving it back?!”

Me: “Excuse me, ma’am, but why did you insert a card into a clearly out-of-order machine? Didn’t you look at the screen before you put your card in?”

She keeps pushing the buttons randomly and, finally, the machine gives the card back. After a few minutes, another woman runs toward the machine with a credit card, ready to put it into the machine.

Colleague: “Ma’am, wait! Don’t insert your credit card there!”

Customer #2: *Surprised* “Why? Is it not working?”

I ended up covering even the card slot with another “out of order” sign.

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Even In Your Second Life, They Can Get You

, , , | Right | April 14, 2020

(This happens in the virtual world of Second Life. I work in Second Life, organizing shopping events where many merchants sell their virtual products, and it’s very common to send notices to customer groups so that the info about the event reaches everybody, i.e. address, flyers, number of participants, and so on.

Usually, store owners have time until the day before the opening to set up, so the location is closed to the public; otherwise, the flux of incoming people would make it almost impossible to decorate, etc. A random person sends me a message out of the blue:)

Customer: “Hello, [My Misspelled Name]. Is there any reason why you would send out the info about your event today—” *the seventh* “—when you state that it started on the second?”

Me: “Because it’s still going on until the tenth. It’s a fair.”

Customer: “Why wasn’t it sent out before the second?”

Me: “Because before the second it was not open.”

Customer: “But you knew it was going to happen.”

Me: “Guilty as charged.”

Customer: “Bloody ridiculous.”

Me: “It was an interesting conversation; thank you for your feedback!”

Customer: “Your attitude is appalling.”

(Seriously, I thought she was trolling me and sooner or later she would say something like, “Gotcha!” but sadly, she was serious! Entitled much?)

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Unfiltered Story #191274

, | Unfiltered | April 1, 2020

(I am the customer in this story. I go to the food court for lunch. After debating on what I wanted I settled for a burger and placed my order. This is in Naples, Italy but the food court is an American one. I am a female but with short hair. I also tend to wear baggy clothing so I am mistaken for a boy now and then but I don’t mind. My voice is feminine though and people tend to apologize for mistaking me for a male. I always find it funny. Besides this something else happens.)

Cashier: How may I help you, sir?

Me: *Smiles a bit and laughs on the inside* Ciao! I would like a number one combo with no onions or bacon please.

Cashier: Yes, ma’am, cash or card?

Me: Card please. *Walks over to the card reader and swipes card*

Cashier: *Hands over receipt*

Me: *After waiting 5 minutes or so I get my food* Grazie!

Cashier: Ma’am, here’s your other burger,

Me: Other burger? I only ordered one.

Cashier: *Keeps insisting I ordered two*

Me: *Holds out receipt that shows I only got one order*

Cashier: Oh, have a nice day, ma’am.

(I wave and go sit down. I could’ve gotten a second burger for free but I would’ve felt bad if I did!)

Look Past-a Your Surroundings To The Wide World Of Noodles!

, , , , , | Related | March 30, 2020

(In this moment of nationwide quarantine in Italy, my dad has discovered the joys of online ordering products and getting them delivered to your house. After a long slog to get him to figure out how to use his dusty old work email for the purpose, he has started to go online and order various things from [Supermarket Chain]. I go to do something else… until he calls me back again several minutes later.)

Dad: “[My Name], come over here. I need you to order something for me; can you do it?”

Me: “Yes, I can. What is it?”

(He hands me his tablet, and I see two things: he has gone on [Big Company]’s site, and there are several pictures of pasta packages on it.)

Me: “Uh, Dad? Why are you ordering pasta on [Big Company]? They can’t have run out of pasta on [Supermarket Chain], could they?”

Dad: *annoyed* “No, look at what I’m showing you.”

(I take a better look at the packages and notice that they are all of a specific pasta format, called “castellane”… and that the labels are Indonesian.)

Me: *perplexed* “You’re trying to order castellane from Indonesia?”

Dad: “Of course, I am; I can’t find them anywhere else! Now, order them. I’m sure you can figure something out.”

Me: “But Dad, it’s gonna cost you lots of money. Are you sure?”

Dad: “Look, I have the money. I can afford it. Now do it.”

(Despite finding it silly to order pasta from half a world away while in Italy, I decide to try and figure something out. After several rounds of Google Translate and some guesswork, I manage to get myself on the page for one that works for our purposes. He tells me how many packs he wants to get and I input the number.)

Me: “All right. Do you have an account or do you want me to use mine?”

Dad: “No, try to use mine. If you use yours, it’ll get delivered to your flat.”

Me: *sighing* “Okay, can you tell me the password?”

Dad: “The password? What password? Can’t I just use my email?”

Me: “No, you can’t.” *realizing* “Wait, so you didn’t actually make an account?”

Dad: *getting agitated* “Didn’t I already make one? Why does that matter?”

Me: *resigned* “Because you put your email in [Supermarket Chain]’s database and made an account with them, not with these guys.”

Dad: *screaming* “What the f***? Who designed this stupid bulls***? F*** you and f*** your incomprehensible online things, you handicapped swine!”

(And with that, he started pouting and complaining about not getting his precious castellane. My mother suggested I just pretend to order that pasta from Indonesia and actually do nothing, since it was just “one of his personal fads,” but sometimes I wish I could tie him to a chair and make him learn basic informatics.)

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