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Tag, You’re It

, , , | Right | October 16, 2018

(I am working as the fitting room attendant. My job is to count garments as people come in, hand them a tag with the number, and count them again as they leave with the tag as a reference. This particular day I have a lady with a single item come through. As she leaves, she shows me her single item, but does not return the tag to me.)

Me: “Do you have your number?”

Customer: “It’s in there.”

Me: “Could you go grab it for me real quick?”

Customer: “You want me to walk all the way back in there?!”

Me: “Yes, please?”

Customer: *stares at me in disbelief for a moment* “You want me to walk all the way back in there?”

Me: “Yes, please.”

Customer: “I only had one item. I’m showing you the one item.”

Me: “I still need the tag back.”

Customer: “But you see my one item. Why do you need the tag back if you see my one item?”

(I am thinking, “A: Do you know how many people I see in a day? Do you really think I remember what you had? B: So I don’t have to clean up after you.”)

Me: “Everybody has to bring the tags back out. That’s just the procedure.”

(She steps around to read the sign with the check-in procedure which, admittedly, tells customers to hang their items so I can count them on the way in, but does not actually tell them anything about me checking them back out.)

Customer: “This doesn’t say I have to bring the tag back.”

Me: “No, it doesn’t, but I do need to you bring it back to me.”

Customer: “You didn’t tell me I needed to bring it back. Why didn’t you tell me I needed to bring it back?”

Me: “I thought it was kind of obvious.”

Customer: “I want to see where it’s written that I have to bring the tag back out.”

Me: “Do you want to see a copy of the fitting room handbook?”

Customer: “Yes.”

Me: *pauses* “Okay.” *on radio* “[Manager], I have a lady here who would like to see a copy of the fitting room handbook to see where it is written that she needs to bring the number tag back out of the fitting room.”

Manager: *on radio* “Do you need me to come back there?”

Me: “Yes, please.”

Manager: *sighs* “Okay, give me a sec.”

Me: *to the customer* “He’s on his way.”

Customer: “I’m not trying to be petty with you. But I think you’re being petty with me.”

Me: “I’m not being petty with you. Everyone has to bring the tag back out.”

Customer: “I can’t believe that you want me to go all the way back in there to get the tag out. I think you’re being petty with me.”

Me: “I’m really not. Everyone has to bring the tags back out.”

(As I say this, a gentleman comes out of the fitting room with his single item, which did not fit, hands me the shirt, and starts to walk away.)

Me: “Sir, do you have your number?”

Customer #2: “Oh, no, I’m sorry. I forgot.”

(He immediately goes back into the fitting room to get his tag for me. As I place the tag back in its holder, I resist the urge to ask the lady, “Now was that freaking hard?” Instead, I turn to her and smile.)

Me: “Everyone.”

(While we wait a minute longer for the manager, she ends up going get the tag, still grumbling about me being petty with her, then mutters something about not waiting, and starts to walk away just as the manager comes down the aisle. I call after her that this is the manager, and they have a conversation just out of my earshot. After she leaves, the manager comes over the radio again.)

Manager: “Some people just…. are so stupid they just…” *devolves into a string of curse words*

Changed Their Number, And Their Tone

, , , , , | Right | October 7, 2018

(I work in a franchised prepaid cell phone carrier. Part of my job is helping customers setting up their devices, creating the email account that is going to be attached to their devices, and such. Some services we offer the customers have to pay for, but if I can help them for free I do, as I like to try to keep most customers happy and give our store a better reputation. Some people do try to get fees waived or services for free. This particular company offers you the option to change your phone number for free if you do it online, but if you come to the store there is a $15 charge. A customer comes in the store, and after we greet each other the following ensues.)

Customer: “I need to change my phone number.”

Me: *explains policy*

Customer: “Okay, can you do it online for me?”

Me: “No, ma’am, if I do it I have to charge you.”

Customer: “But you said if it is done online it’s free?”

Me: “Yes, but that’s because we won’t have to do it.”

Customer: “You can do it for me; you have a computer.” *looks expectantly*

Me: “First, ma’am, no matter the way I did it, I would still have to charge you. Second, I cannot put personal information from customer in my computer, for their protection. And third, we are not allowed to access customer’s accounts any other way than the system we use.”

Customer: “Well, you are no help! I’m a paying customer, and I want to change my number!”

Me: “I already told you the options you have.”

(She starts on a rant about poor customer service, how I “don’t want to help her,” being rude, and cussing us out. Then, I yell out to get her to listen to me, and then I speak in a calm but stern manner.)

Me: “MA’AM! I have tried to be nice, and I have explained to you what your options are. Now, either you pay for me to do your number change or you do it yourself.” *looks like she wants to say something* “And if you say one more rude comment to me or the other staff, this store will refuse you service, and good luck driving around trying to get someone to help you around here.”

(The other nearest store is about twenty miles from us. She went quiet and paid her fee. I changed the number for her and then she left. Our boss had instructed us to never to give in to rude customers, and to ban them or refuse service to them if they act that way. The kicker is, the online process takes no more than five minutes and all you need is your phone number and account PIN, but I guess some people are too lazy or entitled to do that.)

Sorry To Buggy You…

, , , , | Right | August 27, 2018

(I work the fitting room at my store. I stand in a small foyer between the two fitting rooms, with the bathroom next to me, as well. I am not allowed to keep anyone’s buggy in the foyer, for security and safety reasons, and because frankly, it’s obnoxious, so I have customers park their buggies in a line in the wide aisle in front of me. I get many customers who don’t want to park their buggies there because they’re afraid someone will take their things. Usually they’ll more or less relax when I let them know I’ll keep an eye on their things. But apparently some people are paranoid. This particular woman comes to me, DANCING because she needs to use the bathroom, and tries to pull her buggy into my foyer.)

Customer: “Can you watch this while I go to the bathroom?”

Me: “Yeah, just park it in the line there.”

Customer: “Oh, uh-uh. Nope. I can hold this peepee in.”

(She walked away before I had time to respond.)

Not Supporting Customer Support

, , , , , | Working | July 8, 2018

(I am on a family vacation to New Orleans. My parents buy tickets for a rock concert, and we go to the venue, only to come across the most unhelpful staff I’ve ever seen.)

Dad: “Where are we supposed to meet for the show?”

Security: “Over there.” *points to an area near the entrance of the venue* “May I see your tickets?”

(My dad shows him the email on his phone, and I can already tell from the guard’s reaction that we’re in for a rough experience.)

Security: “These aren’t tickets. There’s no barcode on these. You’ll have to go to the ticket office and have them try and print them for you.”

(While my dad and mom are visibly annoyed, we decide to go to the ticket office, anyway. In front of us is a man whose tone and annoyance only exacerbates my fear that we aren’t going to get much help. I don’t recall the conversation, but the man proceeds to leave with a very angry look on his face. Then it’s our turn.)

Dad: “We have tickets here, but the security guard said we can’t use them?”

(The worker looks at the email on my dad’s phone, and her confused look doesn’t really quell my fears.)

Worker: “We don’t support this company.”

Dad: “But we bought them!”

Worker: “Let me get my manager.”

(The workers calls over her manager who is waiting in the back, and she also has the same confused look.)

Manager: “We don’t support this company.”

Mom: *interjects and raising her voice* “What are you talking about?!”

Manager: “We only support [Company # 1] and [Company #2]. Not [Company #3]. I’ve never heard of [Company #3] in my life, and I don’t recognize this logo.”

Mom: “But it was on your site!”

Manager: “That may be, but we don’t support this company. There’s no barcode on this, either, so even if we did support it, we couldn’t print it, anyway.”

Me: “So, what do you recommend we do?”

Manager: “Take it up with the owners. I’m not at fault if you bought from a company that we don’t support.”


Manager: “That’s not my problem. I didn’t design the website.”


Manager: “Again. Not my problem. You failed to read the policy.”

(We begin to walk away, but the manager interjects once again.)

Manager: “Take it up with the owners. It’s not my problem if people can’t comprehend basic instructions.”


Me: “Mom, stop, stop, stop. It’s not worth it anymore. I don’t care who’s at fault, so long as we get the h*** away from this place.”

(We ended up bailing, and my mom called our bank to dispute the charges. What baffles me the most is that the website had no indication of this policy of ticket companies that they supported, nor did they make any attempt to check the site to verify our claims. In the end, I ended up writing a negative review on the website and got an apology from the owner.)

Take My Breath Away…

, , , , , , | Healthy | May 31, 2018

(I’m in the early stages of dating my partner, and one night he falls asleep while we are watching television. It’s the first time he’s ever fallen asleep with me present and I almost immediately notice that he appears to stop breathing in his sleep for LONG periods at a time between heavy snores and gasps for air. It’s so long that it scares me, and I go to wake him up, but his own snort/gasp wakes himself up before I can.)

Me: “Did you know that you stop breathing in your sleep?”

Partner: “What are you talking about? I just snore really loudly is all.”

Me: “YES. It freaked me out.”

(He dismisses my concerns and we go back to watching television. Shortly after, he falls asleep again and I pull out my camera to record this time. It’s the weirdest and most horrifying thing to watch his back and neck muscles strain while he stops breathing for up to 45 seconds at a time — yes, I timed it. He wakes up again, and I’m prepared.)

Me: “You have to watch this. You need to go to the doctor to get this checked out. Of the three minutes I recorded, you didn’t breathe for 170 seconds!”

Partner: *after watching* “That’s probably not good.”

(Two months later, he has just finished doing the at-home sleep assessment which is required before the official sleep study at the hospital. Note that he has complained significantly about the test. He had to wear a device on his face and a band on his chest to check his breathing. They also put an “annoying pulse monitor” on the finger, so he complained that he had too many wires going to too many parts of his body for him to sleep at all during the test. Regardless, he meets with the doctor two days later to discuss the results.)

Partner: “Guess what they found out. I stop breathing in my sleep. We went through a lot of hassle to prove what we already know.”

Me: “Ha! You stop breathing while you sleep? I never would have guessed. I thought that the 30- to 45-second breaks in breath sounds were just your lungs taking a nap.”

Partner: “My record was 82 seconds. Champion!”

Me: “Woohoo! Winner! Some people can’t hold their breath that long when they are trying to.”

Partner: “I can do it in my sleep.”