Not A Member And Maybe That’s A Good Thing

, , , , | Right | December 17, 2019

(I work in retail at the back office so my job involves me having to attend phone calls from customers or suppliers every now and then. This is a story about one memorable customer.)

Me: “Hello, good afternoon. This is [Company]; how can I assist you?”

Customer: “Yeah, I would like to complain about not receiving your newsletter again.”

(In my company, we have two types of membership. Customers get to choose between membership A, where we send them physical copies of our newsletter, or membership B where the customers get to view the newsletter online — usually, faster than membership A. It’s normal for people from membership A to complain about not receiving their copies on time.)

Me: “I’m really sorry, ma’am. May I please have your membership number so I can look up your information?” *this is our standard procedure to check*

Customer: *ignores me but continues talking in a stern voice* “Do you know there was a [Brand] shoe sale last week? If your newsletter had arrived earlier then I would have known about it and taken advantage of the sale.” 

Me: “I’m so sorry you have missed the sale, ma’am, but if you could—”

Customer: “Do you know I have a back pain and must only wear [Brand] shoes? My entire family came down from [Rich Country] and if we would have known, we would have taken advantage of the sale and bought many pairs.”

Me: “Ma’am, again, I am very sorry you have missed the sale; perhaps you would like to visit us again soon? We are having the same sale next month.”

Customer: “This is ridiculous. Why can’t your company deliver the newsletter on time? I could have taken advantage of the sale; this is very unprofessional.”

Me: “Ma’am, I’m really sorry. Do allow me to check your details. Perhaps I can help to check again if the delivery details are correct? Just in case? So you won’t miss another sale.”

Customer: “Oh, I don’t have a membership number. My daughter’s a member, not me.”

Me: “…”

Customer: “Anyway, you guys are really unprofessional because I missed the sale for [Brand] shoe and now my back will hurt. You know what? I will submit a complaint to the Consumer Bureau so they know you guys are cheating.”

Me: *fed up* “Ma’am, if that’s the best choice you think you should proceed with, by all means.”

Customer: “You, how dare you?! I missed the sale because of your company’s late delivery, and you are doing nothing to compensate me? I need [Brand] shoes for my bad back. I’m a [title equivalent to Lady] and I know people from the Consumer Bureau! What’s your name?”

Me: “Ma’am, my name is [My Name] and if you wish to complain, by all means, please do so. I will notify my management that they have an unsatisfied customer complaint from the Consumer Bureau.”

Customer: “You just wait for someone to catch you guys. You guys are cheating!” *hangs up* 

(Ma’am, if you are a “Lady” of some honorable title, I would assume you have more class and dignity than to yell at some company staff for missing out on a sale and for slamming down a phone. And no, no one from the Consumer Bureau caught me or any of my colleagues.)

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Finish The Endgame Before Phase Parenting Starts

, , , , , | Related | May 20, 2019

(This goes down on my family’s WhatsApp group while one of my sisters is heavily pregnant with her first child, and shortly after the last movie in a long-running franchise is released:)

Sister #1: “I started having regular contractions about half an hour ago, so we’re going to the hospital to check now.”

Sister #2: “Did you get to see Avengers beforehand?”

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Unfiltered Story #148144

, | Unfiltered | April 27, 2019

My bf is the bad customer in this story

We were having dinner in this restaurant which serves salmon cooked in three different styles: Grilled, blackened and pan-seared with sesame. This is not the first time ordering, so I wasn’t paying much attention.

BF: We’ll have the salmon please.
Waiter: How would you like it?
BF: Grilled, blackened and pan-seared.
Waiter: Um… Sorry sir?
BF: Grilled, blackened, pan-seared.
Waiter: Um…. Sesame?
BF: Yes, grilled, blackened and pan-seared with sesame!

Poor waiter stood there wondering how to write the order down.

Me (suddenly realizing and paying attention): Sesame, please get us the pan-seared with sesame, thanks.
Me (to bf): You doofus! Think of how you just ordered…
BF (after thinking): Oh…… I’m an idiot……

Many, MANY Red Flags

, , , , , | Friendly | January 7, 2019

(This is overheard at the gate waiting area in an airport. They both seem to be Americans by accent.)

Stranger #1: “So, what color do you see here?” *points at red*

Stranger #2: “Dark brown.”

Stranger #1: “So, you can’t see the red?”

Stranger #2: “No.”

Stranger #1: “Then what do you see as red?”

Stranger #2: “I can’t see any red.”

Stranger #1: “So, is this ‘red’ to you?” *points at purple*

Stranger #2: “That looks deep blue.”

Stranger #1: “Then is this ‘red’?” *points at actual dark brown*

Stranger #2: “Dark brown.”

Stranger #1: “You see brown! How about…?” *points at pink*

Stranger #2: “Yeah. That’s light blue.”

Stranger #1: “This?” *points at yellow*

Stranger #2: “Yellow.”

Stranger #1: “Oh, you see yellow, too!”

Stranger #2: “Yep.”

Stranger #1: “So, what’s red to you? Can you point at something red?”

Stranger #2: “I said I can’t see any red. Nothing at all will look red to me.”

Stranger #1: “There must be some color you see that looks red. Does black look red to you?”

Stranger #2: *sigh* “No… I see black.”

Me: *rolls eyes and walks away, muttering about how that’s not how being color blind works*

 

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Dated And Hated

, , , | Healthy | August 29, 2018

(I have a bad flu that doesn’t get better for two weeks, resulting in me coughing out bloody phlegm. I go to the hospital to get a checkup to see if anything is really wrong. When I get called into the clinic, the doctor, probably in his 50s or so, asks me about my sickness. He has this really smug look on his face, and I don’t think much about it until I start telling him about my symptoms. When I tell him that my illness began two weeks ago, he gets pissed off. He throws a calendar at me:)

Doctor: “Don’t tell me when; tell me the exact date. Point it out on the calendar.”

(I am dazed and try to recall the exact date I got sick. Meanwhile, he is mumbling about how youngsters have a worse memory than he does. I get pissed off, as well, from his attitude. I slam the calendar onto the table and point at the date. It isn’t the exact date but somewhere there. I take a wild guess.)

Doctor: “I suspect that you may have tuberculosis, but it’s still too early to get an x-ray because it wouldn’t show up. So, you may or may not have it. I don’t know.”

(After that, he had the d*** nerve to say I didn’t respect him, for slamming the calendar on the table. He prescribed antibiotics and I got better. Thank heavens I didn’t have to go back and see him.)

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