They’re Not Deserving Of Any Credit

, , , , , , | Right | January 17, 2018

(It’s a normal evening at my store. I am checking out a long line of people when an older man in sunglasses hands me his credit card. I take it at first, thinking it’s our rewards card.)

Me: “I’m sorry, sir. I’m not allowed to touch your card; it’s company policy.”

Customer: “I don’t care. You swipe it. It’s your machine, so you swipe it!”

Me: *scanning his items, attempting to give him back his card* “Sir, please take your card. I’m really not supposed to touch them or swipe them for you.”


Me: *giving up, as at this point my line has grown by four people* “Credit or debit?”

Customer: “Figure it out!”

(I run the card as credit, then return it to him.)

Customer: *nastily* “It’s just good customer service!”

It’s No Laughing Matter

, , , , , | Related | December 7, 2017

I was in my bedroom changing when my six-year-old son started to walk in. I was standing right behind the door so the door only opened a few inches before hitting me.

I called out to him, “I’m changing!” and his reply, in that sweet innocent voice of a young child, was, “Don’t worry, Mommy; I won’t laugh at you!”

Gee, thanks…

The Internet Sucks!

, , , , , | Working | November 22, 2017

(I’m the awkward worker in this one. It is 1999, and I am working for a big electronics retailer. The Internet is beginning to be pretty ubiquitous, but you still run into people that have never used it before. One day a customer tells me he wants to learn “that Internet thing” and begins asking me a bunch of questions about it. I’m happy to show him some of the basics on one of our Internet-connected display computers.)

Customer: “I don’t even know where to start. What do people even use it for?”

Me: “Mostly to search for information. Say, for example, you want to find some info out about our store, you just go to this search bar here and type in our company name, and it will come up with a bunch of links related to us.”

(I type in our company name, and I’m a little embarrassed to see that the first hit is a blog website called “[RETAILER] SUCKS!” I try to do a new search before the customer notices.)

Me: “Uh… Or you can do a search on [Local Sports Team] and find out when they’re playing next.”

Customer: “Wait, wait, go back! What was that? It said ‘[RETAILER] SUCKS!’ Why would your Internet say that?”

Me: “Uh… well, it’s not our Internet; it’s the Internet. We don’t have control over everything that goes on it.”

Customer: “Oh, cool! So, anyone can put stuff on there?”

Me: “Yeah, pretty much. Apparently, these people don’t like us very much.”

Customer: “Neat! I’m going to look at this for a while!”

(He spent the next hour or so happily reading that blog on our display computer in the store. Later that night when I got home, I looked up that same blog and spent many hours of enjoyable reading on it myself. It was like a pre-2000s version ofNot Always Right” specifically for our company!)

It Was A Woman, She Was Blue

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

Me: “[Company], how may I direct your call?”

Caller: “Someone just called me, but I don’t know who it was.”

Me: “Unfortunately, all of our calls come up as our switchboard number, so I’m not able to tell who it was, either.”

Caller: “She just called me, but I couldn’t understand anything she was saying.”

Me: “Unfortunately, unless you know the person’s name or what the call was about, I don’t know who to get you to.”

Caller: *as if this will clear everything up* “It was a woman.”

It Was A Long Friday Night

, , , , , | Right | October 17, 2017

(The video game store I work at is in a mall with mostly retail stores, but a couple of snack-type stores and one sit-down style pizza restaurant. It’s about 10:30 am on a Saturday and the store is empty at the moment. A man with a very angry look on his face comes in directly to me.)

Customer: “Is there any place in the mall that sells alcohol?”

Me: “Uh, yeah, I’m pretty sure that [Pizza Place] has a bar, but—”

Customer: “Okay.”

(The man turns and walks hurriedly out of the store in the direction of [Pizza Place].)

Me: *finishing what I was going to say, to myself* “…but they don’t open until noon.”

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