Rule Of Dumb

, , , , , , | | Working | May 25, 2018

(The store I work at is a one-register, one-person store. We count down our drawers and do shift change a half-hour or so before the next person gets there, so when they do, they can just clock in, and we can immediately clock out and go. We have recently switched over to new registers and a new system. One of the changes is that instead of logging in as “First Shift, Register 1,” etc., each employee has their own individual number with their name attached to it. We try for a while doing it the old way, counting the drawer before the next person gets there, but the boss is noticing some discrepancies on the shifts of those following a certain individual, [Coworker #1]. He makes the new rule that you must wait until the next person gets there to count down your drawer. Now, [Coworker #1] has gotten into the habit of starting to count the drawer when she sees my car enter the parking lot, so by the time I actually enter the building, take off my coat, and clock in, she’s already done counting and logged back in under MY number. This robs me of the ability to watch her count it down and/or recount the drawer myself if needed. This morning, upon entering the store, she is part way through counting the drawer.)

Me: “Please don’t log me in when you’re done. I prefer to do that myself.”

Coworker #1: “Um… Okay.”

Me: *as I’m clocking in* “So, just curious, why don’t you wait for me clock in before you start counting the drawer… like we’re supposed to?”

Coworker #1: “Because [Coworker #2] always makes me wait for ten minutes.”

(A customer enters the store and asks for a can of chew.)

Coworker #1: “It’ll be just a minute, sir.”

Me: “Well, I’m consistently five minutes early. And the whole point of waiting until the next person gets here is so there’s two sets of eyes on the money as it’s being counted.”

Coworker #1: “Um… Okay.”

(She finishes counting and logs out, grabs the can of chew the customer asked for and sets it on the counter.)

Me: “Good morning, sir. One moment, please.”

(I log in and quickly recount the drawer. Only off by less than a dollar, which is not a big deal.)

Me: “Thank you for your patience, sir. You caught us right at the ‘changing of the guard.’”

Customer: “No problem.”

(Meanwhile, [Coworker #1] quickly clocked out and scurried out the door, mumbling about how tired she was. I can appreciate wanting to get the hell out of dodge… but I don’t think she realized that she was the reason for the new rule in the first place.)

Only Halfway There

, , , | | Right | May 25, 2018

(I am manning the self-checkouts when this woman dressed in all camo calls me over.)

Customer: “These underwear are not ringing up right! All hunting clothing was supposed to be 50% off!”

Me: “Huh, maybe it didn’t include underwear. Let me call back to the department to find out.”

(The customer scoffs at me while I go over to the phone to call back to the hunting department.)

Me: *on phone with coworker* “Hey, do you know anything about all hunting clothing being 50% off? A customer of mine says they are, I can’t find them in the ad, and her camo men’s underwear is not ringing up that way. I was curious if maybe the underwear wasn’t included?”

Coworker: “Uh. I don’t know. I’ll walk over there.” *a moment later* “Yeah, I don’t see what she’s talking about, sorry.”

Me: “Some of her other hunting clothing rang up that way, so there’s got to be some sort of sale tag.”

Coworker: “Yeah, I don’t see anything, sorry.”

Me: “Uh… okay… thanks…”

(I hang up, knowing this isn’t going to be easy since the woman was already mad at me. So, I walk back over to her.)

Me: “I’m sorry, it looks like he couldn’t find the tag you were talking about.”

Customer: “SO. You’re saying that I have to walk over and take a picture of it myself for you?! IF I do, then you better fix it for me!”

(She leaves for about five minutes and comes back waving her phone at me.)

Customer: “HERE’S YOUR PICTURE.”

(I try reading it but the picture is so blurry that any information on the tag is illegible.)

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I cannot read the print on the tag. Any information as to what’s not included would be there, but the picture, unfortunately, is too blurry for me to read.”

Customer: “UGH. This is just a waste of my time! I need to be somewhere! You should just call a manager over and have them fix this! It would be much faster!”

Me: “I’m sorry, but I would still have to find out what’s going on before I get a manager involved. They wouldn’t know, either, unless we call the department. I’ll call him back and try again.”

Customer: “This is a waste of time!”

(I quickly go back to my phone to call my coworker back and see if he can find it again.)

Me: “Hey again, so she took a picture of the tag, and it’s illegible due to blurriness. It’s [brand] of clothing.”

Coworker: “Oh, okay. Let me look. Oh. Well, the tag doesn’t say anything against underwear not being included. But, the underwear doesn’t have the 50% off tag on it. Just give it to her, though.”

(I quickly access her computer from mine and change the price.)

Me: *to customer* “He said he wasn’t sure why it wasn’t working, so he said just to give it to you.”

Customer: “WAS THAT SO HARD?”

Cashing Out On Bad Attitudes

, , , | | Right | May 25, 2018

(I am working as a cashier at a grocery store. I always make sure to greet my customers at the beginning of the transaction, but as I am soft-spoken, some customers don’t hear me or respond. This customer is an older lady with what looks to be her grandchild.)

Customer: “Hello.”

(She starts putting groceries on the belt, so I scan them through as a regular transaction.)

Me: *softly responds* “Hello. How are you?”

Customer: “…”

Me: “All right, ma’am, your total is [amount].”

Customer: “Why didn’t you say, ‘hello,’ back? It is horribly rude to not say, ‘hello,’ back when somebody greets you!”

Me: “I apologize, ma’am. I said, ‘hello,’ back; I’m just soft-spoken is all. I guess you didn’t hear me.”

(The customer whispers to her granddaughter, making her look at me and laugh, then pays her total and leaves with a snarky comment. I think it’s insulting, but I brush it off. Fast forward two weeks: the same customer shows up again, but this time with her daughter and granddaughter. I decide to greet her loudly so we don’t have a repeat of what happened before.)

Me: “HELLO!”

(The customer loads all her groceries on belt. I scan them in with care and wait as she stands in front of me getting ready to pay.)

Customer: “Every time I come in here you are absolutely rude. I have never met a ruder or more horrible girl in my entire life!”

Me: “Uh… What?”

Customer: “You are rude, and I will complain to management and get you fired.

Me: “My manager is right there in that office; please feel free to talk to him.”

Customer: “Oh, I will, and I’ll tell him what all you did.”

Me: “Then go.”

Customer’s Daughter: “Don’t you dare tell my mom what to do!”

Me: “Just go talk to him; I don’t want to deal with you anymore.”

(She told my manager that I threw her change in her face, cussed them out, and insulted them. Thank goodness he responded with, “I know her and she would never do that.” He told me next time to just grin through it. Thank goodness I got a better job offer a month later and haven’t been in customer service since.)

Holding Up The Bank

, , , | | Right | May 25, 2018

(I am a teller at the bank on a very busy Friday. We have a line around the lobby, and we are short-staffed. The phone rings.)

Me: “Hello! Thank you for calling [Bank] in [Location]. My name is [My Name]; how can I help you?”

Caller: “…”

Me: “Hello?”

Caller: “…”

Me: “Hello? [Bank]. Can I help you?”

Caller: “Hello? Who am I speaking with?”

Me: “[My Name]. How can I help you?”

Caller: “My son has a problem with his account.”

Me: “Okay, are you on his account with him?”

Caller: “No, he’s an adult; why would I do that?”

Me: “Well, if you are not his account with him, I cannot give you any account details. Can I speak with him?”

Caller’s Son: “I’m here; you’re on speaker. My name is [Caller’s Son].”

(I have to ask security questions when assisting customers on the phone. I tell him this.)

Me: “Okay, I just need you to verify your full address and—”

(The mom interrupts:)

Caller: “Hold on a minute. Can I get a mocha frappuccino with extra whipped cream, a caramel macchiato, and… what do you want, hon?”

(I can’t believe I am being put on hold — while the lobby is extremely busy and we are short staffed — so the customer can order coffee.)

Me: “Would you like me to transfer you to customer service? You have called a branch location and I am one of the tellers, so I need to be available to the customers in my bank, as well.”

Caller: “Oh, no, we’ll just talk to you; we already have you on the phone.”

Double Deceit

, , , , | | Working | May 25, 2018

(I have been working at [Skater Clothing Outlet] for a few months. As a newer sales kid, I have yet to lose my wide-eyed wonder of the job. I have therefore been always eager to help everybody; I sometimes get in a little trouble for my over-enthusiastic lack of a filter. I have never had a customer complain about me, nor have customers ever mentioned me directly to my manager, until one day. We are having a meeting like any other; it’s a week before black Friday, so we are prepping for our big sale. Everything is normal until the end of the employee meeting.)

Manager: *in a serious, you’re-in-trouble voice* “[My Name], I need to speak with you in private.”

(All eyes turn to me, I can hear murmurs from the crew gossiping amongst themselves as I follow my manager.)

Manager: “I had a woman come in today, and she had a few serious words with me about you.”

Me: *scared stiff* “O-oh… What about?”

Manager: “She said that–” *her face suddenly lightens up* ”–you were fantastic. She brought her daughter in, and whatever you did you made that girl smile for the first time in years.”

Me: *suddenly very relieved* “Oh, thank God. Why did you make it seem like I was in trouble?”

(She grins.)

Manager: “Because that’s what she did to me! She walked in all mean-looking and angry. She went all–” *she puffs up like an angry soccer mom* “–‘Are you the Manager?!’ I thought you murdered her dog or something before she lightened up.”

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