Unfiltered Story #143687

, , | Unfiltered | March 16, 2019

(I’m a manager at a pet store with a grooming salon. A grooming client has been in the store since dropping her dog off, knowing the 3 hour appointment time. She’s been in and out of the salon, agitating her dog and making the groom more difficult. After convincing her to hide from the dog’s sight, I approach her out of the salon)

Me: Oh, he’s so cute! I’m glad the haircut is going more smoothly now!
Client: Yeah sure, but I’m not happy!
Me: Oh, I’m sorry to hear that! What’s wrong?
Client: I pacifically told her not to shave him, and look at my baby!
They’re using the shaver on my baby!
Me: Oh, yeah, that can be confusing. They use the clippers to do most of the work, but the groomer had a guard comb on for a longer length. It looks like he’s shaving him, but it’s actually pretty long.
Client: When I booked the appointment, they said they would use scissors on him, but they’re shaving my baby!
Me: yes, she’ll use the scissors later to finish his haircut but the cliipers help keep things even.
Client: But I PACIFICALLY told her not to shave him!
(Now I’m really resisting correcting her, thinking it will only make her more mad. After some back and forth between her and the groomer, I find that the client showed a picture to the groomer of a dog with long hair on the legs and face, and a very tight body cut. She said she wanted the legs short, and the body left long. I’m now also the cashier ringing her out.)
Me: I’m sorry for the confusion, between what you said you wanted and what you showed the groomer. Is there anything I can do for you?
Client:No, I just want to pay and go home. I PACIFICALLY (*almost coming over the counter at me*) didn’t want him shaved and look what they did to my baby! Oh well, at least I won’t have to brush him.
Me: No ma’am, you definitely want to brush him or he’ll get matted again and then there will be no choi…
Client: *evil glare* No he’s bald! I won’t have to brush him! *storms off*
Other manager: Break time?
(Can’t wait for her to come back)

Wishing You Could Flip Them The Bird

, , , , | Right | March 15, 2019

(On a busy Saturday, a customer comes in with her three-year-old son and her mother to purchase a parakeet.)

Customer: “We’re going to take him to the vet to have his wings clipped.”

Employee: “Really? You don’t have to go to the vet for that. They charge for it, and we can do it here for free if you want.”

(No one in my store enjoys clipping the birds’ wings. Not only does it fail to benefit the bird in any way, but it’s also a literal pain in our fingers; birds bite. Still, since customers sometimes want it done, we will clip the wings if they ask… or in this case, to save the customers some money. The customer agrees, and my employee clips the wings and sends them on their way. About half an hour later, I get a phone call.)

Me: “Thank you for calling [Pet Store]; how can I help you?”

Customer: “I just purchased a bird there, and when we got it home, it was all bloody! Your employee cut the bird’s wings, and she obviously did a bad job!”

Me: “Oh, that’s strange. If you bring the bird back, we can take a look and see what’s going on.”

(I let my boss know what’s going on, and then I approach my pet care employee.)

Me: “You clipped a bird’s wings a while ago, right? I have a customer who called and said you injured it.”

Employee: “Really? I clipped them the same way I’ve always done it, and I didn’t see any blood.”

(When the customer comes back with the bird, my employee and my boss both take a look at it. The bird’s injury is not on its wings, but on its side.)

Customer: “See? You guys didn’t cut its wings right! We got this bird because it was getting picked on by the other birds, and now you’ve hurt it worse!”

Me: “It looks like the bird’s wings aren’t hurt at all. There’s a small wound on its side. If you’re right, and the bird was getting bullied by the others, I think one of the other birds might have scratched or bitten it, and the wound tore open from the stress of getting caught, clipped, and put in the box. What we can do is you can return the bird to us—“

Customer: “We don’t want to exchange it! My son is attached to it already.”

Me: “No, ma’am, we don’t want you to exchange it. If you return it, we can take it to our vet here in the building, and we can nurse it back to health, and we can sell it back to you once it’s healed.”

Customer: “We don’t want to do that. My son will miss him!”

Boss: “Well, I’ve cleaned the wound and stopped the bleeding, so it looks like you can take the bird home today if you prefer to do that. I would just leave him alone for a few days and give him time to heal. If you do that, he should be fine.”

(Two days later, the customer and her mom storm into the store with their bird, who is now bleeding worse than ever. They completely dodge my boss and go straight to the vet, who is in our building but technically part of a separate company. The vet tells them that she has to keep the bird overnight, which they are NOT happy to hear. All of this happens on my day off, so when I come back to work the next day, I have no idea that their bird is even in our building. I get a phone call when my shift starts.)

Customer’s Mother: “I brought my bird in because it was injured; how is it doing?”

(I search everywhere for the bird, starting with our sick room in the back, which is where we keep any injured or ill animals to nurse them back to health. The bird isn’t there. I finally find the bird at the vet.)

Me: “I just talked with the veterinarian, and it sounds like your bird is doing just fine. She thinks we need to keep the bird here for a few days to make sure it heals properly–“

Customer’s Mother: “A few days?! That’s too long! We want him back now! He still belongs to us!”

Me: “Did you return the bird to us at the register?”

Customer’s Mother: “Of course not!”

Me: “That’s strange; I’m not sure why my boss would let you do that. We usually have customers return animals to us, so that way we’re the only ones who get charged with a vet bill–“

Customer’s Mother: “There’s no way I’m paying for all this!”

Me: “I didn’t say you would, ma’am. That’s why I’m trying to figure out why it wasn’t returned to us. I wasn’t here yesterday. I’m going to call my boss and figure out what’s going on, and I’ll call you back.”

(I contact my boss, who tells me that we’re going to pay the vet bill, even though the customer never returned the bird. I’m worried that we’re now responsible for a bird that technically isn’t ours. Not only is it against our policy, but now we’re liable if something happens to him. I call the customer back.)

Me: “All right. I talked with my boss, and it sounds like we will be paying the vet bill, and your bird is going to be fine. We’re going to keep him here until he’s all better, and we’ll call you when he’s ready to be picked up, okay?”

Customer’s Mom: “Can I call you in the meantime to check on him?”

Me: “Absolutely!”

(Late in the evening, I start getting frantic calls and texts from my boss AND the store manager, both asking me what on earth I said to the customer’s mom. Apparently, the customer posted on a local Facebook group, claiming that we “insisted” on clipping the bird’s wings against HER judgment, that I tried to make HER pay for the vet bill, and that I tried to make her exchange the bird for another one so we could KILL her bird for being “too much trouble”! Meanwhile, her Facebook followers were eating up the story and telling her to sue us.)

Store Manager: “Is any of this true?”

Me: “No!”

(After I explained the truth, my store manager realized that the bird was a massive liability. She called the customers and told them that they were free to pick up their bird anytime. The customer’s boyfriend came back in the next day and took the bird, stealing the cage it was in while he was at it. The customer made a second Facebook post about how “traumatized” the bird was from the ordeal because, “he won’t let me touch him,” even though the vet told her AGAIN to leave the bird alone until it healed!)

Talking Total Bull

, , , , | Right | March 14, 2019

(I work at a popular chain of pet stores. I am casually browsing the treat aisle in my down time,  as the store is pretty dead, looking for something to keep my dog busy. We sell a wide variety of chews, including Bully Sticks, which are made of dried bull penis. A lot of people ask what they are made of, and some are horrified by my answer. This 70-year-old lady is different.)

Customer: “Excuse me. Could I trouble you with a question?”

Me: “Sure thing. What can I help you with?”

Customer: *holding up a Bully Stick* “What is this?”

Me: *trying to avoid saying the word “penis” to a nearly 70-year-old woman* “It’s a chew for dogs. It’s very tough and tends to take a long time to wear down, so it’s good for heavy chewers.”

Customer: “No, I mean what is it made of?”

Me: “It’s ah… um… It’s dried bull penis.”

Customer: “Okay, but is it beef?”

Me: *taken aback* “I’m sorry?”

Customer: “Is this made of beef?”

Me: “It’s made out of bull so… yes.”

Customer: “No, you said it was made out of bull, but I want to know if it is made out of beef!”

Me: “Ma’am… bull is just the name for male cattle.”

Customer: “I don’t care what it is the name of! IS THIS BEEF?!”

Me: “Um… No, it is not.”

Customer: “Oh, well, I’ll find something else, then.” *ditches the Bully Stick and wanders off happily*

That Fish Didn’t Want To Go With Them

, , , , | Right | March 8, 2019

(I work at a very popular pet store. Our store closes at nine pm on weekdays and Saturdays. As a corporate policy, we are not allowed to tell people that we are closing or closed. The only time we can tell them that we are closing soon is if they specifically ask us when we close. This story takes place after nine pm.)

Me: “Can I help you find anything?”

Customer: “Yes, we’d like [fish #1] or [fish #2].”

Me: “Well, [fish #1] is…” *long explanation about how [fish #1] will get way too big for their tank and they’d only end up killing it* “So, I’d suggest [fish #2], or taking the night to sleep on it.”

Customer: “How about [fish #3]?”

Me: *internally screaming* “Sure, that would probably work.”

Customer: “Okay, but I want a very specific fish. Some of the fish in there look sickly.”

(This is not an uncommon or difficult request, but because of this fish’s swimming habits I have to take out all the decoration in the tank to find the proper one. Not a difficult task, just slightly irritating.)

Customer: “Wait a minute. That fish in the center hasn’t moved; can you check it to see if it’s alive?”

(This is not uncommon for this species of fish, as they are a fish that routinely stays in one place and eats algae off the glass or gravel.)

Me: “Sure.” *prods the fish very lightly, which will usually cause a slight reaction — no reaction* “Hmm, this one seems to be kind of stationary.”

Customer: *starts backing away from the tanks* “Nope. Nope, nope. That’s five dead fish; that’s a bad omen. Sorry for wasting your time, but we’ll just come in on another day.”

(As I was putting everything away, because I had to take out several materials in order to catch a fish, I saw that when bothered by a water current, that little fish at the bottom was actually moving. Apparently, the fish are on OUR side!)

Some Families Are Just Meant To Be

, , , , , | Hopeless | March 3, 2019

I volunteer with an animal rescue organization founded by my mentor and best friend. Today, we were at an adoption event hosted by a large pet supply store. Most adoptions need an application, vet references, and time. However, my mentor told me that sometimes you just know it’s going to work out.

We had a young black dog with a white chest stripe. Like most black dogs, unfortunately, there hadn’t been much interest in him. A few applications had been submitted, but the people seemed to be inconvenienced that they couldn’t get another dog. It’s hard to explain — you had to be there. One lady said, “Call me if you find another dog first.” We had fun shredding her paperwork.

About an hour before closing, a young African American couple came in and fell in love with him. They told us they were newlyweds, and decided their wedding gift to each other was to adopt a dog. Our pup loved them, and my mentor took their application and let them go home with a happy, loved dog. We watched as a store employee took them around to buy supplies. They bought a harness and the employee instructed them how to make sure it wasn’t too tight or loose. They were so loving and attentive and let the pup pick out some toys and treats. As they were leaving, they stopped and thanked us again. The husband hugged the pup and happily announced how much their “new son” looked like them! We all had a good laugh and wished them well.

“And that,” my mentor said, “is how you know.”

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