(A customer asks me if we sell circuit breakers. I don’t think we do, but I work in a different department, so I ask a coworker to be sure.)
Me: “Hey, we don’t sell circuit breakers, right?”
Coworker: “No.”
Me: *to customer* “No, sorry, we don’t. [Store next to us] might.”
Customer: “Oh, don’t worry. I found them.”
Me: “Sir… those aren’t circuit breakers.”
Customer: “Yes, they are!”
Me: “Those are surge protectors…”
Customer: “Oh, that’s just what I call them.”
Me: “Okay…”
(My friends and I have gotten together for the weekend and my friend whose house we’re staying at can’t find her corkscrew. Since her parents live in the same complex, we go over to get their corkscrew. While we’re there, the weather starts getting nasty and raining hard, so the topic comes up about how we’d weather the storm if there was a tornado since the houses don’t have basements.)
Friend’s Mom: “I’d go hide in the crawl space.”
Friend #1: “We’d be safe in the bathtubs.”
Friend #2: “When it came up at school, I told my students I’d jump out the window and hope I didn’t crash through the grate below.”
Me: *mishearing* “What’s the Great Below?”
Friend #2: *laughing* “You know, grate? Like a piece of metal?”
Me: *laughing* “Yay for homonyms!”
I’m the stupid one here. I go to my local library to use the Internet and sort through some paperwork while waiting for my daughter to get out of an after-school activity. Sitting at the nice, long table, I spread my papers out, and when I run across something I no longer need, out of habit, I rip it up and toss it in the trash, completely forgetting I’m in a place where you’re expected to be quiet. For the record, there is no public shredder.
As I’m packing up my belongings, an elderly gentleman starts walking past the table. When he gets right behind me, without stopping, he rips something almost right next to my ear. I nearly jump out of my chair, and he keeps walking, not looking back.
Guess it serves me right for being so clueless.
After losing one of my favorite rings at work, I searched online for a suitable replacement. I found one that looked similar on [Major Retailer]’s website, but it was being sold through their site by a third party. I ordered the ring, but sadly, it didn’t fit, so I went through the retailer’s website to process a return. The directions told me to print out a return packing slip and label, put the packing slip in the original package with the ring and seal it up — this is important later — affix the label to the front, and drop it off at the retailer’s local establishment.
I did this, explaining the situation to the girl behind the register, who could see the label was clearly not addressed to [Major Retailer], and she began to open the package. I understood she wanted to make sure I was actually returning a ring, but I begged her not to, believing this would invalidate my return. She summoned a manager who assessed the situation, printed out something on the register, taped it to the package, and tossed it aside, saying that [Major Carrier] would pick it up the next day. Satisfied, I left it at that.
Fast forward a month. I have not received my refund. I enter the tracking number on [Carrier]’s website, and they have no record of it. I contact the third-party vendor, and they say they haven’t received the ring back yet, but they graciously issue my refund after I explain the situation with [Retailer], who they say they will reach out to. I receive my refund and believe all is well.
Fast forward another two months. I get a call from the customer service manager of [Retailer]’s local store, telling me they found my package, opened, with the return label I had affixed to the front removed, in the back office. Thankfully, the ring and the packing slip were still inside — that’s how they got my contact info — and they want to know if I have gotten my refund. When I tell them I have, they say that their system won’t be able to return the ring anymore, because as far as the system is concerned, since I got my refund, the return is complete.
I will be visiting [Major Retailer]’s local store this weekend so I can meet with the customer service manager on a day I’m not working, with a copy of the original return label — the tracking number having not been used — so that the poor third-party vendor can finally get their merchandise back. I hope.
(The store where I used to work is closing. They have big “STORE CLOSING 50% off” signs hung up throughout the store that detail what is and isn’t included in the discount. Anything grocery, frozen, or health and beauty is part of the sale while any dairy, meat, and seafood aren’t included. I’m standing at the front of the store behind the registers, talking to a former coworker, when a customer calls her over to a register.)
Customer: “Excuse me, this isn’t ringing up 50% off!”
(She holds up a bag of frozen shrimp, which isn’t included. The worker tells her this, and she flips out, claiming, “everything should be on sale,” and, “no wonder you people are all losing your jobs.” She checks out and I decide to leave. On my way to my car, she stops me, either recognizing me from when I worked there for nearly eleven years, or just assuming I still work there, since I was talking to an employee.)
Customer: “I’m glad you’re all losing your jobs. You people are incompetent. That sign says 50% off everything, so I don’t know why you wouldn’t give it to me.”
Me: “Okay, first of all, not everyone is losing their jobs. Some are, but others are being relocated to other stores. Second, it’s not her fault you can’t read a sign that’s literally ten feet tall. Third, I left this place four months ago, which is why I can say, ‘F*** you, b****!’”
(She was speechless as I got into my car and left. It was the only time I ever cursed out a customer there, even though she wasn’t my customer anymore!)
