As Time Goes Pie

, , , , | Right | October 8, 2019

(A couple has been wandering around checking out our display cakes. They then approach the counter to order.)

Woman: “I want half of that pie.” *points at the showcase*

Me: “I’m sorry, madam, but I’m afraid we don’t sell them that way. We sell mini pies and full-sized ones.”

Man: “But we want half of that one!”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir. But I’m afraid we don’t sell them that way.”

(Both huff in annoyance.)

Man: “Fine. We’ll take the whole pie… but you have to slice it for us!”

Me: “Sorry… but I’m afraid I’m not experienced in that area. I don’t generally slice pies. But I can ask one of our production team if they could—”

Woman: “Yes, go do that! We only want sliced pie!”

(I try to keep my temper as I take the pie to the back and ask my coworker to slice it. I return up front, waiting for her to bring it up. The customers have returned to looking around the shop. My coworker brings me the nicely-sliced pie in no time. I begin to ring them up on the register.)

Me: “Excuse me! Sir, madam! Your pie is ready! She did a good job at cutting it.”

(They storm up to the register.)

Man: “God, what is your hurry?! Are you trying to make us leave?!”

Woman: “Stop trying to rush us! It’s bad customer service! You need to calm down, young lady!”

Man: “And you shouldn’t yell in the store! We’ll check out when we’re good and ready! we’re not done looking! So take a breath already! You need to learn to slow down! Don’t rush us!”

Me: *speechless for a second* “I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to rush you… Please take your time.”

(After wandering around the store a bit longer, I checked them out and they left, grumbling about how this little shopping excursion had taken up too much time “just for a d*** pie.”)

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Unfiltered Story #163257

, , , | Unfiltered | September 16, 2019

Me: [open my mouth to say hi to the customer who is walking by]
Customer: Fine, thanks! [hurries off like she’s afraid I’m going to grab her and wrestle her into my chair and apply makeup against her will]

[At least she said it nicely?]

Shedding Away Any Extras

, , , , | Right | February 5, 2019

(When I get to work, my manager is checking in a German Shepherd Dog. It is newly spring, and all of the double-coated dogs are shedding. Because of this, we are trying to talk all the dog owners into getting the de-shed package, which is a product we all use on our own double-coated dogs. We highly recommend it, as it is a great product and well worth the money. My manager is attempting to explain this to the owner of the GSD, who is very belligerent and just starts saying over and over that she was quoted a certain dollar amount and will not pay more than that. Her hands are tied, so my manager proceeds to sign the dog up for a basic bath and nail trim. My coworker is assigned the dog, and this takes place after the owner has returned for the dog, paid for it, and walked out with it.)

Owner: “I have a complaint to make!”

Me: “Oh? What’s going on?”

Owner: “My dog was just in here, and she’s scratched me up all over my leg!”

(She lifts her leg up to show scratches down it.)

Me: “Did you get the nail grinding?”

Owner: “No, and that’s the other thing: I don’t know what all this stuff is, but she never got any of it! I was told that she’d have a de-shedding treatment, and that her nails would be ground down, and that she would look so good, and no one has delivered on any of these promises!”

(I now recognize her as the “I’m only going to pay X amount!” lady, and the light dawns.)

Me: “Oh… right. Yeah. Well, you didn’t ask for the de-shedding package. You said you weren’t going to pay more than [price].”

(My coworker who worked on the dog has now migrated to the check-in area of the salon.)

Coworker: “Yeah, we offer those things, but you have—“

Owner: “I know it’s extra! I said I wouldn’t pay extra, but that lady told me that she’s not supposed to shed now!”

Coworker: “I’m sorry you’re not happy, but—“

Owner: “No, I’m not happy! I was promised the moon and I got nothing!”

Me: “Ma’am, you were offered [de-shedding package] at check-in, and declined to pay for it. We aren’t—“

Owner: “I’ve never heard that word until just now! I wasn’t offered anything!”

Me: “You declined to pay extra.”

Owner: “Well! I’m not going to pay more than I was quoted.”

Me: “Okay. There’s nothing we can do for you, then.”

Coworker: “I hope you have better luck elsewhere.”

Owner: “I already have! Yes! I have! I just came here because I thought you might have more experience!”

Coworker: “I have six years of experience, but I’m not doing a service that I’m not getting paid for. Good night.”

(We’ve always been really careful about letting people know on the phone that a quote is just a ballpark figure and that we will assess the dog’s coat and overall health and behavior and that the price could go up or down, but now we’re even more cautious and repeat it over and over!)

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Rated I For Immature

, , , , , | Right | December 26, 2018

(It is the day after Christmas, and everyone is SLAMMING our little game store. We have a line out the door most of the afternoon, and it is only just slowing down when my boss finally leaves. I’m working with a higher associate and a seasonal worker; I am a basic associate, and one of two girls on staff, the only girl in the store at the moment. A man comes up to my counter with a Tom Clancy game, which is a shooter game that is naturally rated M. It is the law in my state that we MUST card anyone who looks under 35 to 40 for rated-M games, and you MUST be 17 to buy.)

Me: “Good evening, sir! Is this all you need tonight?”

(The customer is a younger-looking fellow with a full beard, who looks to me to be college age. Kind of out of it, he nods to me.)

Customer: “Yes. Just that.”

Me: “All right! And do you have an ID?”

Customer: “No? Do I need to get my friend’s?” *gestures vaguely to the store*

Me: “That’ll work! I just need a valid ID.”

(The man calls his friend over, and I can immediately tell that he is not going to be a good customer. His eyes are red and his brow is immediately furrowed as he gestures at me.)

Friend: “Really? Are we really doing this? What kind of seventeen-year-old has a full beard and mustache?”

Me: *laughs* “Well, sir, I knew a kid in middle school with a full beard and mustache. That’s not really a gauge for me.”

Friend: “Come on. He’s obviously not seventeen.”

Me: “I still need to see an ID. Yours would work!”

Friend: *scowls* “Well. I’m really good friends with the store manager. Do you have to do this?”

(I know I’m dealing with a jerk. Our manager is well known for being a jerk, without meaning to, and also a stickler for rules. He even carded me once, despite having my birthdate on file. I know that my manager would never allow this to slide, so I steel myself and smile sweetly.)

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but it’s the law. I have to card you or it will cost me my job.”

Friend: *uncomfortably shifting* “Well, I guess we could go get a PSN card and buy it online?”

(He won’t. He is buying pre-owned, which is about $20 cheaper than digital.)

Me: *smiling sweetly* “Oh, I can’t stop you from doing that! There’s no problem with that. Would you li—“

Friend: “Well, fine. Thanks a lot.” *dripping with anger* “Let’s go get a card somewhere else.”

(The two turn to leave my register.)

Me: “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you today, sir.”

Customer: “It’s okay; you’re just doing your job.”

Friend: *muttering under his breath about, “Is this really necessary?” and, “He’s obviously not seventeen,” and whatnot*

(After they leave, the store is mostly clear for the first time in hours. I turn to the seasonal kid, who’s been watching with big eyes, as my manager helps the other customer who witnessed it all.)

Me: “If they say they’re good buddies with the store manager in a staff of five but don’t mention his name… they don’t actually know the store manager.”

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You Twin Or Lose

, , , | Right | November 19, 2018

(It is during my second summer working the supply yard at my high school job. A classmate of mine also worked here last summer, but didn’t return this year. He is about five inches shorter than me, wears glasses, and has a different hair color than I do.)

Customer: “You really have grown a lot since last year.”

Me: “Thank you, sir, but I’m actually the same height I was last summer.”

Customer: “No, you really have gotten a lot bigger, and you got rid of your glasses!”

Me: “I think you have me confused with [Classmate]. He worked with me here last year.”

Customer: “No, I’m sure it was you. You wrote [Shop Owner] that nice note for giving you the job, right?”

(I know he’s talking about my classmate, because his thank-you note is still on the wall in the shop, and I never wrote one myself.)

Me: “No, sir, you’re thinking of [Classmate]. He wrote that note; I didn’t. Plus, he had glasses. I never have.”

Customer: “No, I know it was you! It has to be!”

(This went on for several minutes until my boss finally called me over to a customer. The man was convinced I was my classmate. I guess despite the height difference, hair color, and vision difference, we could be twins!)

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