Not All Sweet In The Land Of Chocolate

, , , | Right | August 17, 2018

(I work in a chocolate store. It is a very busy day, and no one is in a line, so I have to just keep an eye as to who is standing there longer. A customer comes up to the register.)

Customer #1: “Hi, I need sixty pieces of chocolate. I just let three people go in front of me so, I need this done now.”

Me: “Thank you for being so patient.”

Customer #1: “Is it cheaper to have it pre-packaged?”

Me: “Yes, depending on what you’re looking for.”

Customer #1: “Okay, I’ll be right back!”

(The customer leaves, and another one comes up.)

Customer #2: “Sorry, I know she’s going to take a while, and I’m only here for one small scoop.”

(The first customer is taking a bit, and it will only take me ten seconds to do the scoop and ring the second customer in, so I do her order quickly. The first customer comes back and sees me serving her.)

Customer: “What the f***?! I let three people go in front of me! You’re supposed to serve me! Not her! Not anyone else! That’s so rude! You’re the rudest person I ever met! I’m leaving! I’ll be back!”

(I ignore the customer and continue to serve the second customer. The first customer leaves. I finish serving the second customer and everyone else. Eventually, the second customer comes back and apologizes. I tell her it isn’t her fault. It gets late and soon it is five minutes to closing. Lo and behold, the original customer comes back.)

Customer #1: “That was the rudest thing I ever seen! If there was any other chocolate store in the mall, I would’ve gone there and not here!”

Me: “I’m sorry, but I didn’t know how long you would be.”

Customer #1: “Well, I need the chocolate now, so now what?”

(I show her what deals we have and she continues to yell at me, but she makes up her mind and I ring her in. It is now fifteen minutes past closing. I’m still smiling, even though it’s the last thing I want to do.)

Customer #1: “Oh, and I want an ice cream.”

(I scoop her ice cream as calmly as I can.)

Me: “Here, I’ll give it to you for free.”

(I’m not supposed to do this, but I figure it will make her feel better.)

Customer #1: “I don’t want that. I just want my chocolate and ice cream, and to get out.”

(I ring her in and bag her things.)

Customer #1: “I’m not coming back here again.”

(She left. I’ve always wondered if it was my fault, [Customer #1]’s, or [Customer #2]’s. I think we all share blame, but looking back, I’m proud of how calmly I handled myself, to keep a smile on my face despite her yelling at me).

Unfiltered Story #118233

, , | Unfiltered | August 17, 2018

(I work at a thrift store, and for one day only we were having a 40% off sale on JUST dresses. A gentleman approached my cash with a bunch of blazers.)

Customer: “These are 40% off right?”

Me: “Sorry, sir, actually only dresses are on sale today.”

Customer: “These are dresses.”

Me: “No, those are men’s blazers, I’m afraid.”

Customer: “But these ARE dresses! Wait, what’s a dress?”

Me: “Uhm, it’s like a super long shirt? Like the one’s women usually wear?” (I show him one)

Customer: “See? These ARE dresses!”

Me: “Those are BLAZERS.”

Customer: “I want your manager.”

(Manager told him the same thing obviously, and he stormed out.)

When The Internet Is Internot, Part 2

, , , , , , | Working | August 13, 2018

In my mid-twenties I left my hometown — a medium-sized city — to do a four-year university program in a small town an hour and a half away. As is now the norm, my program required high-speed Internet, so I investigated what was available. There weren’t many options for a reasonable price, and I ended up opting for [Unknown Company], which contracted out installation to [Slightly Better Known — but more expensive — Company].

The afternoon before the full day I had to set aside for installation, I had cell phone trouble and wasn’t able to use my phone for a few hours. When I got back the ability to check my messages, I had one from [Unknown Company] “reminding” me — they’d never told me — that I needed to pick up a modem from their office prior to installation. They had already closed for the day when I got the message, so the next morning I was at their office five minutes before they opened, at the exact start of the potential installation window. Unfortunately, the only person working there didn’t show up until twenty minutes after they opened, and by the time I got back to my apartment, the tech had already come and gone. Apparently, they installed my Internet, just without attaching the modem. I tried the modem. It failed. I called the company. They couldn’t find my system. They told me to book off the next day to have a tech come by. I waited around for ten hours and no one showed. I called them. They booked off the next day. I again waited around for ten hours and no one showed.

I showed up at their office again and told the employee there that I was sitting in that d*** waiting room until I got Internet service. I was near tears, frustrated, home sick, and lacking the only connection I had with family and friends — my cell was crap. The employee made calls, but because [Slightly Better Known Company] was the one doing the installation, [Unknown Company] “couldn’t do anything.” Finally she told me that I had been booked for another service day and I gave up. My building superintendent agreed to let the tech in if they showed because I needed to actually go to classes. He mentioned then that he had looked at the splitter that the tech had installed and thought that it looked like it was backwards, but, “What do I know? I know nothing about technology.”

The next day a tech actually called me saying he was on his way, and actually showed up at the door. He took one look at the splitter, turned it around, and the problem was fixed. They did end up giving me a month of free Internet… but I still switched companies as soon as I could afford it.

When The Internet Is Internot

In Receipt Of A Pair Of Ears

, , , , , | Right | August 10, 2018

(The customer in front of me at the grocery store has just finished getting his items scanned. This store offers the option of receipts in the usual paper format or by email to save waste.)

Cashier: “Would you like your receipt emailed, on paper, or neither?”

Customer: “No.”

Cashier: “Okay, then, no receipt it is. Please insert your card.”

Customer: *after paying* “Where’s my receipt?”

Cashier: “You said you didn’t want your receipt.”

Customer: “No, I didn’t want it emailed.”

Me: “No, she asked if you wanted the receipt emailed or on paper. You said, ‘No,’ so she said, ‘Okay, no receipt, then,’ and you paid. If you wanted a receipt, you should have said so.”

Customer: “I wanted it on paper, not email!”

Me: “Too bad you didn’t listen, then, huh?”

(The cashier had to call for a manager to get the receipt pulled up and printed — because if anyone could do it, theft would be really easy. There was a ten-minute wait and a long line built up because this guy desperately needed a receipt for his milk.)

Patience Is The Key

, , , , , | Right | August 10, 2018

(A woman walks up to my key center, holds up a key, and asks for a copy.)

Me: “Hey there. How can I help?”

Customer: *sour-faced* “I need a key.”

(It isn’t a regular key, but a laser-cut apartment building key, the one her landlord would have given to her for the front and back door. Looking at the key in hand, I shake my head sympathetically.)

Me: “Ah, I’m sorry, miss, but, unfortunately I can’t cut that key for you.”

Customer: “Ye,s you can.”

(Her tone is matter-of-fact, and her expression tells me she will accept little in the way of argument.)

Me: “I wish I could, miss, but–” *motions to the measly collection of simple blanks hanging behind me* “–I don’t have a blank for that key.”

Customer: “But, you make keys here.”

(She says this like she’s informing me of what my job is. I nod.)

Me: “I do, yes, but—”

Customer: “I don’t understand why you won’t make me a key. You make keys here.”

(My patience is waning.)

Me: “That’s your apartment key, isn’t it?” *pulls out one of my keys, a perfect match to hers* “See, this is my apartment key; it’s just like yours. Now, you see these cuts?” *points out the ringed cuts on the blade* “See, these are laser cut, right? Well, I don’t have a laser-cutter, so…”

Customer: “But… you make keys here.”

(Being a six-year veteran in the retail game teaches one instincts. My instincts tell me that if I am not careful, this lady and I could be going round and round all night. I decide to switch up my approach.)

Me: “Yes, we do, but I should point out what it says on your key. Right there, ‘DO NOT DUPLICATE.’ So, you see, because this is a key that belongs to a piece of property that you don’t own, your landlord is telling you that he or she doesn’t want you making copies. You can try a locksmith, but I’m willing to bet he’ll tell ya the same.”

Customer: “I don’t understand. You make keys.”

(The smile returns to my face.)

Me: “We do. Was there anything else I could help you with?”

(There was not. My night improved from there.)

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