Front Desk, Back Talk

, , | Right | October 4, 2019

Me: “Thank you for calling [Retailer]. How can I help you?”

Customer: “Yes, my stuff says it was delivered, but it isn’t here.”

(I check the tracking.)

Me: “Oh, I see here that the driver took it to the front desk receptionist. It should be waiting for you at your front desk.”

Customer: “I pay for this service; I spend thousands of dollars in your company!”

(She has made four orders, maybe reaching $150.)

Customer: “I paid for this to be delivered to me; you call that driver back and tell him to come back here and hand me my items!”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, I can’t call the driver as his information has already been removed from the order. The order was delivered to the address; they are currently sitting—” *gets cut off by yelling*

Customer: “I’m not walking down there to get this s***! I want a full refund and I will be reordering it; now get me my godd*** money back right the f*** now and put on there that I want this handed right to me!”

Me: *eye twitching as I am not paid enough to deal with this level of stupid self-entitlement* “Ma’am, I can’t do that. Your order was delivered as instructed.” *now notices she lives on the first floor, about twenty yards from the front desk* “The items are sitting at the front desk awaiting you to pick them up.”

Customer: “This is bulls***! You refund my d*** money and I will be reordering!” *click*

(My manager is passing by. I start laughing some and explain what happened.)

Manager: “Well, you did the right thing; it’s not your fault she’s too lazy to get up and walk to her front desk.”

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I Got 99 Problems And All Of Them Are Unpaid For Items

, , , , , , | Right Working | October 3, 2019

(I have been on shift for around eight hours and am scheduled to leave about ten minutes after this takes place. A customer enters my line to check out with a cart full of objects. Knowing this could take a bit, I call over one of my coworkers to help me bag. As I am waiting, I greet the customer.)

Me: “Hello! How are you today? Did you find everything all right?”

Customer: “I guess so.”

(She begins carelessly throwing her items onto the belt. I think nothing of it and begin, still waiting for my coworker. After a few minutes, I can tell she’s getting agitated.)

Customer: “Can’t you hurry the h*** up?”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I’m also bagging myself. I called for one of my coworkers to help, but they haven’t shown up yet.”

(The customer sighs and throws the rest of her things onto the belt. Once she is finished, she starts glaring at me.)

Customer: “Well?!”

Me: “Uh… I’m sorry? Well, what?”

Customer: “Put in your [Rewards Card] number! I came here for the savings!”

Me: “Ma’am, I can’t just give you my card number. Don’t you have your own?”

Customer: *throws her hands up* “What the f***?! You’re supposed to give me your card number! I don’t have a f****** number! I have over 400 dollars worth of s*** here; just give me your card!”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I cannot do that. We don’t permit sharing the rewards card between two people, especially cashier to customer. If you want a card, you are free to go to the courtesy desk to get one! It’s free!”

Customer: “No! I am not giving them my number. Just give me yours! I don’t have enough to pay for all of this s***!”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I cannot do that.”

(I stop scanning, knowing well that it’s no use. She won’t pay.)

Customer: “Fine! Whatever! You are a slow, s***ty cashier. You can’t even bag properly, and you are nothing short of a selfish, worthless brat! Typical teenagers! I don’t want this s***!” *storms out of the store, leaving me with a half-completed transaction and over a hundred items on either side of me*

(I ring over my coworkers one last time. She walks over, looking annoyed.)

Coworker: “Maybe you should have called us and we could have helped you bag…” 

Me: “I did call, and you never came.”

Coworker: “Not my fault. It’s yours. You were supposed to clock out already… Now, you can either help us put this stuff back, or go up to the manager and explain why you didn’t clock out in time.”

(I just clocked out and left. I was too tired to really fight them. I called out of my shift the next day to relax. As upsetting as their scolding was… it was somewhat pleasing to know they had to return all of the rude customer’s purchases.)

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All’s Well That Games Well

, , , , , , | Working | October 3, 2019

(It’s been a slow week, and we haven’t made our sales goal. To try to minimize the loss, managers start picking people to go home early or miss shifts later in the week. I’m sitting with my manager one evening, discussing store things.)

Manager: “We’re barely halfway to our goal, and we’ve only got a few hours left. There’s no way we’re making sales.”

Me: “So, we cut hours again?”

Manager: “Yeah. Let’s see…”

Me: *dramatic sigh* “I’ll take one for the team and volunteer. It’s a hard decision but—”

Manager: “[My Name], you just want to go home and play video games.”

Me: “Absolutely.”

(She laughed and sent me home. I came in the next day to find out that a coworker single-handedly managed to get us to our sales goal in the last hour.)

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Not Red-dy For You

, , , , | Right | October 2, 2019

(I work at the order desk for a company that supplies drugstores with all of their merchandise – pharmaceuticals, candy, cigarettes, you name it. Drugstore employees call me and give me their orders, which I enter on my computer. I work in the office area, and all of the items are stored in a separate warehouse. I can depend on having a conversation like this at least once a week:)

Customer: “I want some cigarettes.”

Me: “Sure. What kind?”

Customer: “Uh… I don’t know the name. You know, the ones in the red box.”

Me: “Sorry, I don’t know which ones those are.”

Customer: “The red box.”

Me: “I’ll need a name, sir, plus a quantity.”

Customer: “Tell you what, honey. You run over to wherever you store those things, find alllllll the ones in red boxes, write down the names, and then come tell me what they are.”

Me: “I’m afraid I can’t do that, sir–”

Customer: “Let me guess; too much work?”

Me: “No. I mean that the cigarettes are stored in a warehouse, and I don’t have access to it.”

Customer: “Yeah, right. Wait— You’re new, aren’t you?”

Me: “No, sir. I’ve worked here for six months.”

Customer: “Then you should know which cigarettes come in red boxes!”

Me: *sigh*

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Seeing A Dangerous Pattern Emerging Here

, , , , | Working | September 30, 2019

(I’m an adult woman. My husband and I live in a home which is about 30 years old. The master bathroom upstairs has all original fixtures, so you can imagine they’re starting to look pretty shabby — and not in a “Shabby Chic” sort of way. We decide to remodel. The company we end up hiring to take care of the tub/shower and surround comes in and begins working. After a few hours…)

Me: “Hey, uh, I just looked at the shower liner you have there, and it’s not what we ordered.”

Construction Guy: “YOU SAID IT WAS THE RIGHT ONE!”

Me: “No, you asked me if mine were white, and I said yes. And then you brought in these. Ours are white, but they’re also [completely different pattern].”

Construction Guy: “No! This is not my fault! You said it was the right one!”

(He actually continues to argue with me over it for several minutes! I try explaining differently.)

Me: “Regardless of what you thought I said earlier, this is not what we ordered. Look here on my copy of the order form. See? It says four-inch by four-inch tiles.”

(Incredibly, the man still argues that it is MY fault! Exasperated, I switch tactics again.)

Me: “Okay, but I snapped a photo and texted it to my husband, and he said it’s not the right one!”

Construction Guy: *immediately calm* “Oh. Well, okay. We have to go back to the warehouse, then.”

(He calls his boss and admits over the phone that even though he had read our order form and saw the pattern and style name on our order, he STILL grabbed the flat white liner, anyway. Then, he tries to blame the problem on me AGAIN. While he is waiting for his coworker to go back to the warehouse to grab the right stuff…)

Construction Guy: “So, what do you do for a living?”

Me: “I’m self-employed. I do graphic design, web design, that sort of thing.”

Construction Guy: *condescendingly* “Oh. Well, I could do that, too, if I didn’t have to work in construction.”

Me: “Oh, yeah? Then why aren’t you?”

Construction Guy: “Well, I have to make money. You know. I can’t just stop working and do that.”

(He continues to belittle my line of work until I refuse to talk about it further. Finally, his coworker comes back, they finish the installation, and my husband arrives home in time to see the finished work.)

Husband: “So, why is the faucet leaking?”

Construction Guy: “Oh, that? It’s nothing. Here, I’ll fix it.”

(He dabbed some caulk over the point at which water was leaking. Later, we used the shower for the first time and water came pouring out of the downstairs walls below the shower! Turns out this guy half-a**ed the last of the work, and rather than fixing the leak, he just covered it up! THAT whole fiasco is a story for another day, but suffice to say we will not be using this particular bathroom remodel company ever again.)

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