No Library, No Fee, No ID-ea

, , , , , , | Learning | January 9, 2019

(I’m at college. I go to purchase a lab manual.)

Clerk: “Sorry, you don’t have a valid student ID. Go to the library and get a new one.”

(I’ve been using this ID for three years, but whatever.)

Librarian: “You need paperwork from the business office to get a renewed ID.”

(I go to the business office.)

Clerk: “You need to pay off your debts before I can do anything for you.”

Me: “Yeah, okay. I’ve been meaning to do that, anyway.”

(It’s only the first week of school. I pull up my student account; I owe $240.)

Clerk: “That’ll be $430.”

Me: “What? No, see?”

(I show her my account.)

Clerk: “It’s actually $430.”

Me: “Why?”

Clerk: “It’s $430.”

Me: “Why?”

Clerk: “Fees.”

Me: “Why is it $230 on my account but $430 here?”

Clerk: *shrugs*

Me: “…”

Clerk: “…”

Me: “I don’t know what you want me to do.”

Clerk: “Pay?”

Me: “I don’t know what I’m supposed to be paying.”

Clerk: “$430!”

Me: “Why?!”

Clerk: “THAT’S HOW MUCH IT COSTS!”

Me: “WHY?!”

Clerk: “Do you want a manager?”

Me: “Yes, please!”

(I never do this. I’m usually a pushover for workers, but this is two hundred dollars that I’d be paying “just because.”)

Manager: *on speaker phone* “What’s the problem?”

Me: “My account on my phone says my classes cost $230, but her computer says $430.”

Manager: “It’s $430.”

Me: “Why? I don’t understand why it’s $200 more.”

Manager: “Don’t worry; I’ll fix it. Give me a moment.”

Me: *finally relieved*

Manager: “Refresh the page.”

(I refresh my page. It’s now $430.)

Me: “…”

Clerk: “You can pay with a payment plan which will, in total, cost more, but it’ll be much easier.”

Me: *giving up* “I’d rather pay it all off right now.”

Clerk: “Okay! Here’s some paperwork for that.” *immediately flips to the last page and points where I should sign*

(I am an incredibly paranoid person. I read the terms and agreements. I’m that b****.)

Me: “This is the paperwork for the payment plan.”

Clerk: “…”

Me: “I’m paying it all, right now. And I want a receipt.”

Clerk: *rolls her eyes, gets me the right paperwork, and gives me a receipt*

The Temperature Of Confusion

, , , , , | Right | January 8, 2019

Customer: “I need to make an appointment for my car.”

Me: “All right, when were you looking to come in, and what’s the problem?”

Customer: “I need an oil change, but I also have an issue. Something isn’t right.”

Me: “All right, what’s the issue you are having?”

Customer: “The engine smells… hot.”

Me: “It smells hot?”

Customer: “Yes, it smells hot.”

Me: “All right, are you smelling burning? Fumes? A coolant smell?”

Customer: “No, it just smells hot hot. [Owner] will know.”

(I get this frequently: that my owner will know. Of course he remembers every person and every problem!)

Me: “Is there any way for you to describe the smell more clearly?”

Customer: “Umm… It smells hot.”

Me: “All righty. Well, I have the notes in here, and [Owner] will check out the car when it’s in.”

(I go out to the garage after to tell the guys that this woman’s car “smells HOT and that [Owner] will know!”)

Tech: “Did you ask her what cold smells like?”

Get Rid Of The Bad Customers For Just A Buck Forty!

, , , , | Right | January 7, 2019

(I work at a restaurant as a waitress. One of my coworkers is working outside on the terrace and warns me that there is a difficult table having trouble with their payment and that they’re coming inside to settle their bill. The same people already came to me earlier to insult my coworkers for being cranky and unprofessional and not smiling enough, whilst they were working their butts off due to us being understaffed. The man comes up to the bar to talk to me.)

Me: “Hi! I understand you’d like to get your bill?”

Customer: “Something like that.”

Me: “Okay, that’ll be €20,40, please.”

Customer: “I have €19.”

Me: “Umm, all right. I’ll just need €1,40 more, then.”

Customer: “I don’t have that.”

Me: “I’m sorry?”

Customer: “This is all I have. I don’t have more money.”

Me: “Okay… Do you have a debit card?”

Customer: “Yes. At home.”

Me: “Okay, would you like to run out to get it and settle the rest of the bill later?”

Customer: *angrily* “What? You’re telling me I need to go all the way to [Place five kilometers away] to get my debit card to pay you a Euro-something?”

Me: “Well, yes. I’m sorry, but I do.”

Customer:This is ridiculous! You’re honestly expecting me to come back to pay you people a Euro? I come here all the time! You’re giving me terrible customer service!”

(I’m starting to lose my cool. I’m usually very smiley and happy toward customers, but as he insulted my coworkers before, and makes it come across as if it’s OUR problem that he’s forgotten his card, I’m annoyed. Also, I’ve never seen the guy before.)

Me: “Yes. If you order something, you have to pay for it.”

Customer:It’s only a Euro!

Me: “That you owe us.”

Customer: *giving me a look of pure fury* “You know what? Fine. I’ll get you your Euro. But you’ve now lost a customer.”

(My manager came out and told the guy it was fine. I’m curious to see if he’ll ever be around again. The kicker is, if he would’ve been polite about it, I would have told him not to worry about the remaining €1,40 and taken it out of the tip jar. But how people can be so entitled, I’ll never know.)

You Passed The Smell Test

, , , , , | Working | January 7, 2019

(I have had trouble with a delivery company for many years. I can’t even count the number of complaints I have filed over the years. They don’t like to drive down my long driveway in the rural area I live in, so they keep leaving my packages on a neighbor’s front porch. The neighbor, while nice, is a heavy smoker. And when I say, “heavy smoker,” I mean that when she opens her front door, you can see the smoke roll out. On top of that, she has two dogs that she keeps in kennels in her living room while she works. When they have accidents, they dig the poop out and splatter it on the walls. There are no words to describe the horrible smell of her home. Whenever I have a package coming, I try to watch the tracking and run over to her front porch and get it before she gets home. One week I have a lot going on and forget about it. Several days later, the neighbor hands me my package of books. The box stinks so bad I decide I’m not even going to open it. I call the company that sent it, complain, and demand the delivery company come back, pick it up, and pay for a replacement because I will not accept it. They did so, and that evening I get a call from the manager at the hub.)

Manager: “Ma’am, this is [Delivery Company]. I am calling to apologize.”

Me: “Let me guess; you are the lucky duck that got to open that package, huh?”

Manager: “I… I… don’t even know what to say. The smell knocked us back. It stunk up the whole back of the truck. I will be honest, all the complaints… We thought you were just being a bad customer. I’m… We’re sorry. I promise you will never have an issue again. We are contacting the company that shipped this and we will pay for a replacement.”

(And no, I never had another issue with the delivery company putting my packages on a neighbor’s front porch.)

America And Canada Return To War

, , , , , , | Working | January 7, 2019

(I recently purchased a number of items online from a women’s garment store. Normally I physically go to the store but in this case, I felt like buying online. When I receive my items, one has a defect with a strap. On the back of the packing slip, there are instructions for return or exchange, including information about returning the item in the store. My husband and I happen to be going to a mall with this store in it within the next day or two, so I decide to exchange the item in store rather than mail it back. This is my experience at the store. I walk up to the cash registers.)

Me: “Hi there. I ordered this bra online recently, tried it on, liked it, removed the tags, but on the one and only time I wore it, I noticed there is a defect with the strap.” *pulls the bra out of the bag I’ve brought it in to show her* “The strap wasn’t threaded through both bits of the slide, so it won’t stay up. I don’t need a refund — I actually really like it — I was just hoping to exchange it for one exactly the same but without a defect.”

(The cashier is very nice and finds me a sales associate to help find the specific style of bra in store.)

Sales Associate: “Hmm, so, it appears that we don’t carry that specific style or size in the store. I’m really sorry.”

Me: “Okay, that’s not a big problem. I’m fine with exchanging for something similar for the same value.”

(I show the associate all the paperwork I’ve brought to confirm the price.)

Sale Associate: “Okay, that is probably fine; let me just check with the manager. Since you bought it online, I just need to double check.”

Me: “No problem. I’ll just browse until you are done.”

(Everyone has been very pleasant and helpful. I’ve made it clear now to two people I am not looking for cash; I just want to exchange the item directly. It’s also worth noting that when I purchased the items on the website, they were purchased via a Canadian source, so I paid in Canadian dollars, and the items were shipped from Eastern Canada. The manager and sales associate approach me.)

Manager: *already sighing* “Yeah, hi. So. You bought that online.”

Me: “Yes, that’s right.”

Manager: “So… we don’t do returns for online purchases. I could maybe give you a credit, but that’s it.”

Me: “Sorry, I wasn’t looking to return it; I’d just like to exchange it for something of equal value if I can’t get the exact same one.”

Manager: “No, I don’t think you understand. You bought it online. We don’t return things from an online purchase.”

Me: *still calm but frustrated* “That’s confusing, because—“ *showing her* “—on the packing slip, on the back here, it says you can return or exchange in store.”

Manager: *not even looking at the paper, in a condescending voice* “You purchased that from an American website, so you can’t return it to a Canadian store.”

Me: “Really? I am certain that I purchased it from a Canadian—“

Manager: *even more condescending* “No, I understand. You paid Canadian dollars, but you purchased it from an American website. We don’t even have a ‘.ca’ website.”

Me: *pause* “Ah, okay. Um… So. What do you suggest?”

Manager: “Call the number for the website. They’ll have to tell you what to do.”

Me: “Right. So, I guess I have to mail it.”

Manager: “Yep. Thanks.” *walks away*

Sales Associate: “I am… really sorry.”

Me: “It’s all right. I guess I didn’t read the fine print. Thanks for your help.”

(Later I relayed the interaction to my husband, who insisted I submit a complaint about the manager’s behavior. We also did a quick Google search for the company, and lo and behold, the first result was a sponsored advertisement — for a “.ca” website. I checked the return label; yep, Canadian. I guess that manager needed a bit of education on her policies.)

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