(A customer comes into the store with some returns from an online purchase. No receipt, no order number, nothing. She says her mother ordered it online for Christmas and didn’t give her a receipt. My manager says she can do an exchange. We inspect the packaging, and it is packaging from the manufacturer, not our store.)

Me: “Ma’am, we cannot accept these returns. These weren’t purchased from our website; they were purchased from [Manufacturer].”

Customer: “No, they weren’t. My mother said that she ordered them from you guys.”

Me: “Well, ma’am, that just simply isn’t true. We can’t accept these because they were never in our system.”

Customer: “Are you saying that my mother is a liar?”

Me: “No, of course not. I was just stating that she was incorrect about where she purchased these.”

Customer: “My mother is a registered nurse! I think she has enough intelligence to know where she bought something from! I feel insulted!”

Me: “Well, you have the right to feel insulted, but that doesn’t change the fact that these were not purchased from us.”

Customer: “I demand to speak to your manager!”

(Our manager comes over and repeats everything I said. The customer then angrily grabs everything and storms out of the store.)

Me: “Have a nice day, ma’am! I hope you get a better nurse.”

Related:
Refunder Blunder, Part 35
Refunder Blunder, Part 34
Refunder Blunder, Part 33

(This happens in college. I’m doing some homework in my dorm when my friend and roommate comes in.)

Friend: “Hey, do you want to see the movie The Witch with me tonight?”

Me: “That’s the horror movie that just came out, right? Sure. You wanted to see it?”

Friend: “A little, but the professor for my mythology and folklore course said we can get extra credit if we go see it, so it’s mostly that.”

(That night, we head to the movie theater. When we get there, I see a movie poster on the wall of the building for “Deadpool,” a movie we’ve both been very excited to see, and see that the release date was over a week ago.)

Me: *pointing out the poster* “I didn’t realize Deadpool was out already.”

Friend: “Me, either. Huh.”

(We go inside to wait in line, since we haven’t actually bought our tickets yet. Inside, there’s another very large poster for “Deadpool” that we can see from the line. After waiting in line for a couple minutes, my friend turns to me.)

Friend: “Hey, [My Name].”

Me: “Yeah?”

Friend: “Do you want to see Deadpool, instead?”

Me: “I was hoping you’d ask!”

(Needless to say, my friend did not end up getting the extra credit, but she had no regrets about watching “Deadpool,” which we both greatly enjoyed!)

(I think my mother’s car has some sort of psychic connection with animals, because my mom quite often has run-ins with deer in our area. She’s already had an accident on her way to work once, so sometime later, she is driving to work really early in the morning, when the street is practically deserted, and is going below the speed limit on a 40 mph road. I don’t know how slow she is going, but she is apparently going slow enough to catch the attention of a policeman. The guy asks for her license and says:)

Officer: “Ma’am, are you aware that you are driving under the speed limit?”

Mom: “Yes, officer, because I don’t want to get hit again.”

Officer: “Pardon?”

Mom: “I recently got into an accident with a deer in this street. I really don’t want to get into another one.”

Officer: “Ma’am, I’ve patrolled this street hundreds of times before, and I’ve never seen a single deer. I think you can go the speed limit.”

Mom: “Then, sir, would you be so kind to look ahead of us real quick?”

(My mom points up ahead of the street and, lo and behold, there’s a doe not twenty feet away, just staring at them.)

Officer: *hands Mom her ID back* “Have a nice day, ma’am.”

(We have just had two of our busiest days of the year in our academic bookstore; it’s as if two Black Fridays happened back to back. We’re also short-staffed as a few people called out sick. It is 8:50 pm and we close at 9:00 pm. All is finally quiet and we’re trying to clean up, when I hear a coworker talking to a customer at the returns desk.)

Customer: “What do you mean, you’re out of the book for my class?”

Coworker: “We had several hundred customers today, so I’m sorry, but we did run out.”

Customer: “That is ridiculous!” *grabs a book with a similar name* “Is this my book?”

Coworker: “I’ll check.”

(He comes over to me and we check the course listing; it isn’t her book. It’s a supplement to the other section’s book. I tell him to have her place an order, and that we will get the book back in stock. He goes to tell her, and then she comes over to me.)

Customer: “Why do I have to order my book? Why would you just collect part of the book? What kind of a business is this?”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but it’s been very busy.”

Customer: “I’m the only one here! You lie!”

Me: “No, ma’am, it was very busy, but you can place a web order—”

Customer: “I don’t care! What do you mean, I have to do a web order?! You order it for me!”

Me: “We will, but you have to do a web order to reserve it.”

(She demands we do a special in-store order, which is only for people with financial aid for their course books.)

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but you have to do a web order.”

Customer: “I can’t believe this! You make such a big deal out of answering the phone—” *she’s there in person* “—and you collect incomplete books and now you’re trying to hurry me out because you close too early!”

Me: “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but we do close at nine pm, which is in two minutes.”

Customer: “Nine pm is too early! You have to understand, we are law students! We are in class until nine pm! And we have to get here at two pm to get parking!”

(We’re a city campus, it’s mostly street parking and as the bookstore, we have nothing to do with this.)

Me: “Ma’am, I’m sorry about that, but I cannot change our hours.”

Customer: “Stop yelling! You are being so rude and this is a terrible business!”

Me: “Ma’am, I am not yelling, but it is now nine pm, so have to ask you to leave if you continue to behave like this.”

Customer: “I am writing a formal complaint. I want all your personal details!”

Me: “My name is [First Name].”

Customer: “And what is your last name, and your address and phone number?”

Me: “I’m not giving you my last name. That is personal. The address and phone is [store info].”

Customer: “Argh! That isn’t what I asked for!”

(She finally flounced out, but not before telling another coworker that “that woman over there is mean and rude!”)

(Like most pizzerias, we take orders over the phone.)

Me: “Thank you for calling [Pizzeria]; pickup or delivery?”

Customer: “Hi, is it possible that I can order something to be ready when I get there?”

Me: “So… a pickup?”