This interaction is mostly through email (and paraphrased).

Client: “I want to talk to someone.”

Me: “Of course. Please let us know what this is about, so I can redirect your email if needed.”

Client: “I want to talk to someone. It’s about my home.”

Me: “I understand, but what is the matter?”

Client: “That is private. Please redirect my mail to someone who can call me.”

Me: “I’d love to, but I need to get the gist of what this is about so I can ask the right person to call you.”

Client: “I want someone to call me.”

Me: “If you want to speak to someone live, you can call our customer service. If you want someone to call you, please tell us what it is about.”

Client: “You are invading my privacy!”

Me: “I understand that it’s an inconvenience to explain things, but we have over 600 people working here, from technicians to administrators. If you want me to redirect your email to the right department, I have to know more.”

Client: “Fine! My water tap is leaking.”

Me: “Oh, that is indeed an inconvenience. Luckily, I can help you with that. We can make an appointment with a plumber for you.”

Client: “I don’t want an appointment with a plumber. I want someone to call me!”

I decide I’ve had enough of it, leave my station, and pick one with a phone. I call the client.

Client: “Ugh, finally! That person in the email was so rude — not helpful at all! Anyway, now that you’re calling, my neighbour is parking outside the lines on the parking lot.”

Me: “I thought your email mentioned a leaking tap?”

Client: “I just said that because that annoying person kept on asking. Now, what will you do about my neighbour’s parking?”

It was a public parking place, so we did nothing. She did not like that.

Of all the times I have seen customers complain in the store, between games that “weren’t what the box claimed to be” and fried consoles being blamed on us, the one that I remember the most was when an older woman with an upset preteen in tow came to the counter of my shop, put down a Nintendo Switch box, and said, verbatim:

Customer: “This piece of garbage doesn’t come with Parental Control installed! And don’t tell me it’s there. I have worked on computers for twenty years; I can tell when a feature is missing!”

Me: “Madam, you may have worked on computers for twenty years, but it’s a matter of fact that the Nintendo Switch does have a Parental Control mode. Would you like me to demonstrate?”

Customer: “It doesn’t matter. This model doesn’t have it installed. If it did, I would’ve seen it already.”

And so on and so forth, until my manager told me to just give her a replacement plus a fee.

I’m an overnight worker in a big box store. One night, as I’m watching the front registers, a lady with a cart full of groceries walks up and asks to leave her groceries there while she uses the restrooms. This isn’t out of the ordinary, and I agreed to keep an eye on her things while she was away.

Five minutes go by. Then ten. Then twenty. I start to wonder if she left the store and forgot to grab her cart

A whole thirty minutes later, she walks back up with an unhappy look on her face.

Customer: “I want to talk to the manager.”

Overnight managers are notoriously busy. My store only has one manager, who has to sign for any trucks that show up and manage the stockers, cashiers, and maintenance workers, and he oftentimes also does stocking himself since we’re so short-staffed. I figure I should see if I can handle the problem to spare our poor manager the distraction.

Me: “What seems to be the issue? Maybe I can help out with it.”

Customer: “I was in the bathroom, taking a s***, and suddenly, the lights turned off on me! I couldn’t see! How was I supposed to wipe?!”

That is way more information than I wanted. I’m not sure how I kept a straight face.

Me: “Our lights are on a motion-sensitive automatic timer. They should have turned back on as soon as you moved.”

Customer: “That doesn’t matter! A customer should never have the lights turned off on them!”

Me: “I’m sorry this happened to you. The lights are on an automatic timer that turns off after fifteen minutes of no activity. There’s nothing we can do to change this.”

Customer: “Oh, I know it’s not your fault, but I want to complain to the manager! This should never happen to a customer!”

With the customer watching me, I had to radio for the manager to come to the front and deal with this crazy complaint. I wished that I had some way to warn him about what he was about to walk into.

I had to leave as soon as he showed up, so I never got to see how it resolved, but I can’t help but think that if I was sitting on the toilet for so long that the lights automatically turned off on me, I would’ve been too embarrassed to say anything.

I get a notice that there’s some recall work that needs to be done on my car. The paperwork says it’ll take about two hours. (I should have realized that’s two hours for the actual work but doesn’t necessarily take into account the time spent waiting at the dealership, but that’s a different story.) I call the dealership and get a time scheduled to bring my car in and get a loaner so I can go back to work.

I dropped my car off just before 8:00 am. At about 2:00 pm, I get a text.

Representative: “Hello, this is [Representative] from [Dealership]. Your car is next in line to have [recall work] done. Based on your car mileage, our technicians are also recommending [a whole bunch of stuff that basically boils down to an oil change]. The charge for that will be [almost $500]. Would you like them to do this work?”

Figuring that I can get the same oil change done at [Oil Change Chain] for $120 and laughing my a** off, I respond to the text.

Me: “Just the recall work at this time, please.”

Representative: “I’ll let the technicians know. Thank you.”

I get another message at 5:41 pm.

Representative: “Hello, this is [Representative] from [Dealership]. The work has been completed on your vehicle and you can pick it up at any time.”

I double-checked their signage when I dropped my car off that morning, as well as the website, and saw that they are closing at 7:00, so I finish a couple of things around the house and then go to the dealership.

I pull in at 6:05 and it’s pretty empty. I get out and try to go into the lobby, and it’s locked. I start glancing around and pulling up my phone to double-check the website as well as staring at the closed garage doors. Everything says they’re closing at 7:00.

An employee finally comes out a nearby door and seems startled to see me.

Employee: “Uh, hi.”

Me: “Hi, I got a message that I could get my car?”

Employee: “Well, uh, we’re closed.”

Me: “So, are you saying I can’t get my car?”

The employee likely sees that I’m about to cry.

Employee: “Uh, one moment.”

He disappears back inside.

Admittedly, having to wait a day to get my car probably wasn’t the end of the world, but I have been acting on the (supposed) knowledge that they are open until 7:00. I rearranged a few things to be able to be without my car for the day, but I need it tomorrow.

The employee finally pokes his head out the door.

Employee: “Okay, come on in.”

He took me up to the desk where they checked in the loaner and then sent me out to get my car. I finally got the rundown of what they did — just the recall work, so that’s free — what they wanted to do — the $500 oil change that I refused to do because that’s f****** insane — and the recommendation that I get the $500 oil change done ASAP. I got in my car and went home.

When I got home, I double-checked the paperwork as I was putting it in my files, and up at the top, the hours were listed as closing at 6:00 pm. That was literally the only place it was listed in any of their documentation.

I was so frustrated, especially with the text that said I could come and get my car. It would have been one thing if the representative had said something like, “Please be aware that we close at 6:00 but will reopen tomorrow,” and I’d just misread it or completely forgotten. But I double-checked all of the communication, and there was nothing. I submitted a review and tried to lodge a complaint, but it never went anywhere. It did ensure that I wouldn’t use that dealership unless I absolutely have to, though.

Related:
Not So Closed Minded, Part 30
Not So Closed Minded, Part 29
Not So Closed Minded, Part 28
Not So Closed Minded, Part 27
Not So Closed Minded, Part 26

I am having dinner with a friend at a popular full-service restaurant. It’s about 7:00 pm on a weekend, so the place is bustling with activity. All the tables are occupied, and there is a waiting line to get in.

Amidst the racket of the large main dining room we are seated in, I hear someone deliberately and loudly clear their throat. I turn my head just in time to see a restaurant manager about to address a diner at a table that is exactly in the middle of the room. The manager speaks in a carrying voice that cuts through all the ambient noise.

Manager: *In a very professional tone* “Here is your cashback. Please note in the future that the ‘tip’ line on your bill is to tip your servers, not to get money back. We are a restaurant, not a bank.”

Of course, nothing extraordinary happened after that. The room became quieter for a moment, but that was it. I still have a bit of contemptible awe for the diner’s audacity, though.