Always The Season For Bad Customers

, , , , , | Right | September 28, 2018

(It is a busy weekday afternoon and I am covering a cashier’s lunch break at a sporting goods store. A customer comes to the register:)

Customer: “You don’t have any f****** shoulder pads! Or f****** helmets! Or g**d*** football pants in my son’s size!”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am. Let me—”

(I begin to offer to call around to our other stores to see if anyone has what she needs. Before I can even finish my sentence…)

Customer: “You have got to be the most worthless sporting goods store around, because practice starts today for pee-wee programs and you don’t have anything left!”

Me: “I’m sorry you feel that way. We’ve actually had the football section stocked since the beginning of the summer in preparation for the upcoming season.”

Customer: “You’re not sorry. You’re not! F*** you and your apology!”

(Her son is standing behind her, nearly in tears. I’ve had enough of her nonsense.)

Me: “Look. I am not personally responsible for your procrastination. The reason the football section is wiped out is because all of the other parents were proactive and came and bought their kid’s stuff over the past several weeks. You can’t expect to come in a few hours before practice and find everything you are looking for.”

(The look of shock on her face is so satisfying; she can’t believe I’ve called her a procrastinator.)

Me: “Now, I can still call around and see what we are able to find, because I do want your son to get what he needs, even though you have been miserable.”

(I find everything she needs at two of our stores nearby, and she asks to speak to a manager. I think maybe, just maybe, she’s had a change of heart and wants to acknowledge that I’ve gone out of my way to help her… but NOPE.)

Customer: “I want to speak to the manager. I’m soooo getting you fired. You disrespected me.”

(Never mind that she cursed me out for no reason. Unfortunately for her, my manager has overheard everything.)

Manager: “Ma’am, in my store I expect our employees to treat our customers with respect. But I also hold our customers to the same standard. I overheard your transaction, and I must say I would have turned off the light and left you standing there if you had cursed at me. Instead, my employee called around and found what you needed, and your son will now be able to attend practice with all of the necessary equipment.”

Customer: *pausing, looking defeated* “You at least owe me a discount coupon for my next purchase.”

Manager: “Ma’am… that’s definitely not going to happen. You have a nice day.”

(He walked away, and she walked out with her tail between her legs.)

They Got The Drop On You

, , , , , | Right | September 20, 2018

(I am checking out a customer. I hand him a dollar in change and then lightly drop coins into his hand.)

Customer: *gives me a look* “You could have just handed me my change like I handed you the money, instead of just dropping it into my hand.”

(I think to myself… I did hand you the money, but it’s impossible to place a bunch of coins directly into your hand unless you want me to count them out one by one.)

Me: “I’m sorry; I meant no disrespect.”

Customer: “Yeah, you’re sorry, but you still did it, huh?*turns to his friend and my coworker* “Did you just see how she handed me my money? So disrespectful! I can’t believe how rude.”

(The man leaves.)

Coworker: *giggles* “Jeez. I saw the way you handed it to him; it was completely normal, and he just acted like you just kicked his puppy.”

She Cookie-Cutter Him Down

, , , , | Romantic | September 19, 2018

(I’m at the store pharmacy in a retirement community waiting for my prescription. There is a row of chairs, and I watch an elderly couple come over. The man sits down. His wife has a grocery cart, and apparently he plans to wait while she is shopping. I assume that due to his age or a disability, he isn’t able to walk around the whole store with her. Then, I overhear this:)

Wife: “Do you want to have a cookie while you wait?”

Husband: “Yeah.”

Wife: “Then go get it yourself. I’m not getting it for you!”

Padding Out This Story

, , , , , | Friendly | September 18, 2018

(I’m a man, and my female friend from California is visiting me in Maryland for the weekend before her next semester of college starts. We’re going to tour DC with my girlfriend. Her first morning after her flight, we’ve woken up, and I come out of the shower to find her still sitting on my futon.)

Friend: “Um… Hey. Can I ask you a stupid question?”

Me: “Sure.”

Friend: “…”

Me: “Go on.”

Friend: *chuckles* “Do you have any pads?”

Me: “No, I’m afraid I don’t have much of a need to stock feminine hygiene products. Did you forget to pack some?”

Friend: *sheepishly* “Yes.”

Me: “There is a supermarket nearby; I’d be happy to walk down and buy some.”

Friend: “No, no, I don’t want to have to make you do that.”

Me: “Well… [Girlfriend] should be here in about an hour; I can ask her to bring some.”

(She agrees, and I text my girlfriend about the problem. She finds the situation amusing and agrees to bring some pads for my friend. Unfortunately, my girlfriend is delayed, but my friend insists that she doesn’t want to burden me with a five-minute walk to the store, so she sits on my bed watching a movie in her PJs for two hours until my girlfriend arrives. I introduce them to each other.)

Girlfriend: *fishes a selection of pads out of her purse* “Um… Here?”

Friend: *hugs her* “Yes! You’re a lifesaver!”

Me: “No, she’s a pantysaver.”

No Re Mi!

, , , , , , , | Healthy | September 17, 2018

A few years ago, I was having some issues with irregular periods and had to have my first pelvic exam. It was something I had avoided for a long time, because even the idea of it put me in a panic. My mom suggested I go to her gynecologist, and I agreed, largely because she was a woman and I refused to do it with a male doctor.

So, the day of the appointment finally came and I was a nervous wreck over it, actually nearly throwing up at times. But I went and met with a nurse first, and she put me a tiny bit more at ease.

But not for long. I was taken into the exam room and handed a “gown” to change into. I was told to have it open in the front, but it didn’t even come close to fitting me, so I was practically naked. If I pulled it as tight as I could around me, there were still at least six inches of skin uncovered across my chest, stomach, and lap. Then, the doctor didn’t come in for over half an hour, and at that point I was crying out of anxiety. When she finally came in, she asked if a student shadowing her could sit in, and I’m glad now I said yes.

The doctor began by rather aggressively checking my breasts while she started singing the opening lines to the song Do-Re-Mi from The Sound of Music, “Let’s start at the very beginning, a very good place to start.” She explained by telling me she had a two-year-old grandson who could only be calmed down by The Sound of Music when he was worked up, and she thought maybe it would help me, too. I was speechless.

I’m not sure why she thought it was a good idea to compare a grown woman having an anxiety attack to a tantrum-throwing toddler, but I’m still offended. The rest of the exam was relatively uneventful, with the student talking to me and holding my hand through much of it. I’ve promised myself that I will not let this experience scare me away from potentially necessary medical care in the future. But The Sound of Music is completely ruined for me forever.

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