Offensive Enough To Cause Injury

, , , , , , | Right | November 21, 2017

(One of my employees, a high-school-aged girl, is walking home from her shift on Saint Patrick’s day when she is hit by a drunk driver. She returns to work a week later, battered but in good spirits. During her first shift back, I hear yelling coming from the fitting room, and an irate customer comes storming out.)

Customer: “Your corporate’s number, now!”

(As I’m writing down the info, I see my high school employee sobbing and leaving the fitting room.)

Me: “I’m the manager on duty, ma’am; may I ask what the issue is you want to speak to corporate about?”

Customer: “I can’t believe you let punks like that work here! Gobs of black eyeliner! Facial piercings! This used to be a respectable place!”

Me: “Ma’am, my employee was injured. Those are bruises and metal staples put there by the hospital.”

Customer: “Excuses!”

(She snatched the slip out of my hand and stormed out. Corporate handed down a disciplinary write up to my employee for being out of dress code. I’ve been petitioning to have it overturned, but as her appearance offended a customer, it will probably stand and could risk her job.)

Owner Getting Owned By A Four-Year-Old

, , , , , , , | Working | November 21, 2017

In the 1970s, a local store owner really disliked kids being in her store. She would watch pre-teens and teens who went in very closely. Some of us just stopped going to her store; others watched for the owner to be inattentive so they could pocket things, just to spite her.

One day, I stopped in with some friends to check out a stuffed animal. The owner, as usual, was following us around and watching us closely, much too closely for our comfort. As we were getting ready to leave, an older woman came in with her small granddaughter. The grandmother set a grocery bag on the floor against the counter and engaged the store-owner in conversation.

We watched in amazement as the maybe four-year-old granddaughter immediately began stuffing candy bars in their grocery bag. She then wandered around the shop, picking up items, and carrying them to the counter to put in their bag. In view of the owner!

We continued watching until the grandmother picked up the bag and left — without buying anything.

I looked at the owner, pointing at the grandmother, about to point out what happened.

I stopped talking at a very nasty look from the owner.

One of my friends grabbed my arm and said it wouldn’t do any good, so we just left.

Return Of The Returner: Jeans Of Justice

, , , , , | Right | November 21, 2017

(My mother is a department manager for a large retail chain that has just closed 146 locations in the last year. They recently had a return policy change that states if you are returning something without a receipt, they can only give you the lowest selling price in their system. My mom is called up to the register to help a pair of customers with their return.)

Mom: “Hello, sir. What can I do for you?”

Customer: “Yeah, I’m trying to return these jeans, but I don’t have my receipt.”

Mom: “Okay, sir, let me see what I can do to help you. Did you pay for these with cash or a card?”

Customer: “One of them was with cash, and the other was with a card.”

Mom: “We can look up your receipt in our system to give you the full refund for the one pair, but with the other one I can only give you what they are worth in our store.”

Customer: “That’s not necessary. I paid $45 for them. Just give me that.”

Mom: “I’m sorry, sir; our policy is that we have to give you what it’s worth.”

(She looks up the jeans at the register, and they are only worth $0.78 in the store on this particular day.)

Mom: “For this pair, I can give you $0.78.”

Customer: “$0.78?! That’s it?! But I paid $45!”

Mom: “Well, if you had the receipt, I’d be able to give you the full refund. But considering that you don’t, this is all I’m allowed to give you, sir.”

Customer: “This is ridiculous! Why can you only give me $0.78?”

Mom: “That’s just our policy, sir,”

(This goes on for quite some time, asking why he can only get $0.78 for the jeans, and with her trying to give him several different answers, until…)

Customer: “How does it feel to work for a company that can’t back up its managers?!”

Mom: “Excuse me?”

Customer: “You’re working for a company that can’t even tell its employees why certain policies are put into place. No wonder this place is going down the tubes!”

Mom: “Well, sir, that’s matter of opinion.”

Customer: “A matter of opinion?! Are you f***ing kidding me?! This place is a s***-show! This is horrible customer service!”

Mom: “Once again, that’s a matter of opinion.”

Customer: “Oh, yeah? How many sites have you closed down this year? Huh?”

Mom: “146.”

Customer: “Yeah, and that’s a FACT!”

Mom: “If you say so, sir.”

Customer: “You must be embarrassed! You must be so embarrassed to work here! You must go home every night, look at yourself in the mirror, and hate yourself because you work here! Are you embarrassed?! Huh?!”

(She has finally had enough of this man’s harassment. By now there are about 25 to 30 people that have fallen silent and are watching this man scream at her.)

Mom: “No, I don’t! Sir, I am trying to help you as best as I can. You can either stop this conversation right now and accept the help I am giving you, or you can walk out that door right now, and never come back to this store, since you hate it so much!”

(He instantly shuts up. My mom gives him the cash refund of $0.78 for the one pair of jeans, and then looks up his receipt for the other pair, which is the exact same pair as the one for which he paid cash. The receipt she pulls up says he paid the full price of $14.95 on his card, which she refunds him as well. As she is finishing up with him, he decides to get a final jab in.)

Customer: “See you in the unemployment line!”

Mom: “Why? Is that where you live?”

Gossip And Wine: The Fuel Of The Soccer Mom

, , , , , | Friendly | November 20, 2017

(My partner and I both are working night shifts as we are younger with no kids, and night shifts are well-paid. As a result of a good income, we are able to move to a nicer house in a neighbourhood populated mainly by families with 9-to-5 working husbands and “soccer moms.” The nice elderly couple next door tells us those moms do nothing else but gossip, and that they have already start to spread rumors about us. One day, we hear a group of those women talking about us in the adjacent garden. It is clear that they haven’t noticed us sitting in our garden.)

Neighbour: “They moved here two months ago and I’ve never seen them awake before one pm! Never seen them going to work! And they own two cars and a motorbike! How can they afford it?”


(Silence. The elderly couple later told us nobody dares to speak a single word about us any more.)

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Are You A Manager Or Are You A Mouse?

, , , , , | Working | November 20, 2017

(I am a cashier at a fairly popular grocery store. I also happen to make my own yogurt and cheese on occasion. A man comes through my line with his two daughters.)

Little Girl: “Why does Swiss cheese have holes?”

Man: “Oh, a little mouse eats its way through the cheese to make those.”

Me: *reflexively* “Ick! That would be terribly unhygienic! I’m pretty sure the bubbles form while the cheese is setting due to the special bacteria used in making Swiss cheese.”

(The little girl seems to consider this, though I’m sure she doesn’t quite understand the cheese-making process. The man pays and leaves without another word. Several days later, one of the store managers pulls me aside.)

Manager: “I got a call complaining about you today.”

Me: “What?”

Manager: “A man says you told his daughter the holes in Swiss cheese are because of bacteria, after he told her it was a cute little mouse.”

Me: “Yeah, I remember that. It isn’t a mouse.”

Manager: “I know that, but you know how it is with kids.”

Me: “I guess I don’t?”

Manager: “We tell them little stories.”

Me: “…”

Manager: “He says you ruined her childhood.”

Me: “I’m not apologizing for telling the truth to a little girl.”

Manager: “You contradicted her father in front of him. You have to be careful about things like this.”

Me: “I’m not apologizing for telling the truth! Especially because the lie was gross! A mouse crawling all over our cheese? Come on!”

Manager: “I know, but kids like mice. They’re cute.”

Me: *sigh* “Are you writing me up for this?”

Manager: “No, but I need to make sure you’ll ease up on what you tell kids.”

Me: “I’ll stick to letting them know that Santa isn’t real.”

Manager: *laughs* “You wouldn’t do that.”

Me: “Next time someone says I ruined a childhood, I’d like it to actually be true.”

Manager: “Well, next time, I’m definitely writing you up.”

(I quit that job as soon as I could. Stupid customers are bad enough without having management take their side.)

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