(A woman and her son come in to buy a sewing machine. They have brought in printouts from another store and a copy of our price matching policy. The machine is on special at the other place and she wants the extra 15% off that we offer. I read both papers and take note of what they say.)

Me: “I’m sorry, but we don’t match prices with online stores or sale items.”

Son: “The place has a storefront.”

Me: “They might, but right here it says, ‘Online-only special.’”

Mother: “It’s not on special; you have to match it.”

Me: “The full price is clearly marked right here and I can’t even match that for you because our regular price is cheaper than their full price.”

Mother: “It’s not on special.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but from what it says here, it is on special. I have to ring them and find out for sure.”

Mother: “They aren’t open today. I want to buy the machine today for the matched price.”

Me: “I have to be able to call them to confirm it.”

Mother: “Oh, great. Now you’re just making up your own rules.”

Me: “No, I’m reading them straight from the printout that you gave me.”

Mother: “Where does it say that? Prove it.”

Me: *points to line* “It’s right here. See? Right above the line that says that we don’t match prices on sewing machines.”

Mother: “You made that up.” *snatches the papers from me*

Me: “You printed it.”

Mother: “Fine! We are going elsewhere.” *storms to the door, stops* “I’m calling in a complaint about you.”

(I can see it’s a ploy to scare me into giving her the discount, one which would probably get me fired. A complaint could, too, if the company decides I’ve treated her rudely, but by this time I don’t care.)

Me: “They aren’t open on Sundays; do it tomorrow.”

(I make sure I document what was said and give it to my manager. She rarely backs me up.)

Manager: “You should have given her the discount. I would have approved it; you lost us a sale. A sale is a sale.”

Me: “It would have brought it under cost price.”

Manager: “What? Oh, my God, you’re right. You just saved both of us from possible termination.”

(Sometimes on a Friday night, when my mother-in-law is on her way home, we decide to get from a local pizza place from dinner. I’m always the one to call it in, unless I’m not home, obviously. My mother-in-law says she wants a chicken cheesesteak wrap, and my husband and I decide to share a pizza. I call the order in and they ask if we want tomato and lettuce on the cheesesteak. I say yes because the last time she got a wrap she was upset because it had no lettuce on it. The following happens when we sit down to eat at home:)

Mother-In-Law: “You guys got pizza? [Husband], I said I would have eaten pizza.”

(This is the same woman who never wants pizza)

Me: “Do you want the pizza? I’ll eat the wrap.”

Mother-In-Law: “No, I’m hungry.” *unwraps the wrap* “Why does this have lettuce and tomato on it? I never get tomato.”

Husband: “I’m not eating.”

(He slid his paper plate across the table at his mother and went into the bathroom. I sat there and ate my pizza. He finally came back and ate. After dinner, I went upstairs and thought how grateful I was that I’d be visiting my friend in Tennessee for a couple of weeks, and I wondered how they’d get along without the house “secretary” to call in their orders. Then again, I wouldn’t put it past them to call me in Tennessee to call the stupid order in. They never have before, but hey, there’s a first time for everything.)

(My husband retired from the military with twenty years of service in the military version of customer service for various functions last year. He currently is an operations manager for the contractor that provides housekeeping and food service for the local hospital. All told, he has over forty direct reports. He is shopping at a major general store type retailer before work one day. The store manager is the only one on duty and she refuses to check him out before she does anything else. My husband walks up to the counter and no one is there for several minutes.)

Husband: “Can I get some help here?”

Store Manager: “Just a minute!”

([Husband] patiently waits. Five minutes pass by and no one has come to the counter. He asks again, a little more forcefully.)

Store Manager: “Can’t you wait?!”

Husband: “No! I am going to be late for work!”

(The store manager then proceeds to come to the front of the store and goes into an office to count tills instead of servicing my husband.)

Husband: “This is poor customer service! What could be more important than servicing a paying customer?”

Store Manager: “What is wrong with you? Don’t you know how customer service works?!”

Husband: “Uh… yeah, I do! I spent twenty years in the military doing customer service for shipping and receiving, and I would never treat a customer the way you did to me!”

Store Manager: “But you didn’t supervise anyone!”

Husband: “I was a Master Sergeant in the Air Force. I sure as heck supervised people! At one time I had over sixty people under me. I am now the manager of over forty people who provide services at [Local Hospital]! If any of my employees treated someone the way you have done to me, I would fire them as soon as possible!”

Store Manager: *checks my husband out* “Why don’t you call corporate, then?”

Husband: “I’m not dealing with your attitude! Don’t expect any more business from my wife and me. I am also telling [Local Veterans Group] not to shop here because you are so disrespectful.”

Related:
Doing A Disservice To Customer Service, Part 4
Doing A Disservice To Customer Service, Part 3
Doing A Disservice To Customer Service, Part 2

I do landscaping for a major chain restaurant and I notice that a tree has Borers and needs an injection. I tell the managing partner, who informs me she does not want to spend the $50. I tell her the tree will die, and she repeats that she does not want to spend any money. I tell her she can call any tree company, pick one out of the phone book, or ask friends, but the tree needs the injection or else.

She continues to say she does not want to spend any money. I give up; she is the customer and is therefore always right.

The following season, I am at the restaurant having dinner, and she sits down and asks why the tree is dead. I reminded her of last fall’s conversation, and she is pissed at me. She says she’s going to “rip the d*** thing out of the ground.”

I just keep my mouth shut and think of how she saved $50 at a cost of $700 to remove and replace the dead tree.

(We get people complaining all the time about the prices, which we have no control over. I am ringing an older couple through; they have a couple of items, including one of our more expensive combo ink packages. Their total comes to over $200. They are in the middle of paying when they ask this.)

Wife: “How much was the ink?”

Me: “$142.59.”

Wife: “That’s quite expensive.”

Me: *nodding* “Yeah, I know.”

Husband: “You should be embarrassed.”

Me: *surprised* “Excuse me?”

Husband: *repeats himself*

Me: “Unfortunately, we don’t set the prices.”

Husband: “You should be embarrassed for just having to tell us the price.”

(I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I just finished up the transaction. After they left I just kind of laughed with one of my coworkers about it. The only thing that’s embarrassing is that they couldn’t read the price tag on the shelf when they picked it up.)