CONTENT WARNING: Animal Injury (Results of a careless grooming job)
 

We had a horrific experience the first time we took our pup to a groomer in a pet store franchise. He’s admittedly a bit of a sensitive soul anyway and doesn’t travel well in cars, so when I collected him and he cried in the car home, I didn’t initially think anything of it, especially since they had admitted to slightly grazing one of his ears. (He’s a floppy-eared breed.)

We got home, and he immediately ran to his crate and would not come out. He even growled at us when we tried to coax him. That was not like my boy at all.

After we eventually persuaded him to come out, I looked him over, and he was covered in razor burn, grazes, and some actual cuts. The “graze” on his ear? An actual notch taken out of it. His privates were also grazed and bleeding. It took weeks for him to recover because he kept reopening the cuts.

I phoned and gave the store manager h*** over this and also reported them to their head office. After providing them photos, I was refunded the cost of the groom and offered vouchers for free cuts, but I told them that they were having a laugh if they thought I’d bring him back to them ever again.

I recently adopted a four-year-old bully breed mix named Tank. He is a big boy, about eighty pounds, and has some basic training, but he lacks awareness of his size and gets very excited when people greet him. I decided to enroll him in private training lessons at my local pet store.

On our first walk around the store, a man comments on how cute he is and asks to pet him. 

Trainer: “He is in school right now, so [My Name] is setting the boundaries on his greetings.”

Man: “What does that mean?”

Me: “I’d like people to greet him when he is sitting or lying down. If you could let him sniff the back of your hand first, and then give him a scratch under his chin, that would be great. If he jumps up, I need you to turn away and remove yourself until I get him settled again.”

Man: “Okay.”

I get Tank into a sit and tell the man to go ahead. He offers his hand, and Tank licks it. [Man] immediately goes for the ears and vigorously rubs his head. Tank jumps up into [Man]’s arms and kisses him. I call him back into a sit and step between them.

Man: “What?”

Me: “That is not how I want him to interact with people.”

Man: “I don’t mind.”

Me: “I do. I don’t want him jumping on people.”

Man: “I’m a big guy; I can take it.”

Trainer: “But a small child or an elderly person can’t. If one person encourages him to jump up, he will think it’s okay for everyone.”

Man: “It’s not that serious…”

He leaves us.

Trainer: “That is a common issue with training. Cute little dogs get away with a lot, but… being what he is…”

She gestures to Tank, who is now licking his butt, oblivious to the world around him.

Me: “I know the stigma, which is why I’m here.”

Trainer: *Relieved* “Right. Unfortunately, some people will see Tank as an issue no matter how good he is.”

Me: “I know. He really is a good boy. He just needs some fine-tuning.”

Tank is now laying on the floor, belly up, wiggling back and forth like he’s trying to scratch his back. 

Me: “What a monster, huh?”

Trainer: “Oh, the worst!”

Me: “I’m more afraid of his farts than his face.”

Trainer: *Laughing* “That is the true danger here!”

We practiced polite greetings a few more times that day, and he started to get the hang of it.

Eventually, Tank started asking people to greet him by going up and sitting in front of them, tail wagging and waiting patiently. Some people were thrown off by a big dog staring at them expectantly, but most found it funny and greeted him the right way.

I am at a pet store chain today wearing a heather grey T-shirt with white lettering on the left side of the chest. It says something about axe throwing — nothing pet-related. The workers are easy to spot because they wear royal blue polos that say [Store] on them. I approach one.

Me: “Do you have a public restroom?”

I get pointed in the right direction and head there. Afterward, I head out and make it maybe twenty feet before I get stopped by a lady who asks me where the bathroom is. I point her to where I just came from.

Then, a man approaches me.

Man: “Do you know about that dog costume that makes it look like they are holding a knife?”

Me: *Nodding* “Yeah, they’re funny!”

Man: “Can you tell me where they are?”

Me: “I have no idea; I don’t actually work here.”

Man: “But you’re wearing the shirt!”

Me: “Sir, this is not blue, and it has nothing to do with pets.”

Man: “But you helped that lady about the bathrooms!”

Me: “Bro, I just came from there.”

Man: “Come on, man! Just tell me where it is! You look like you work here.”

At that point, I just repeated that I didn’t know where they were, and I went about my business.

Of course, I saw the man in line later, and he just gave me the stink eye. My wife and I had a laugh about the odd interaction.

A customer is handling an item in a way I know from experience is going to make it spill all over my checkout.

Me: “Ma’am, that’s going to spill. If you hold it this way it will be better.”

Of course, even after telling her she ignores me and spills it anyway.

Me: *Over the intercom.* “Can I have someone come and clean a spill at [my checkout lane]? Thank you.”

This makes her all huffy, probably because she’s embarrassed. I finish her transaction and smile, handing her the receipt.

Me: “Here is your receipt.”

I then move on to the next customer while my spillage customer is still close by.

Me: *At the end of the next transaction.* “Have a nice day!”

I later found out the original customer called my manager on me to complain because I didn’t tell her to have a nice day either.

I worked at a chain pet retailer. I always tried to deter small children when their parents asked to hold the smaller animals, and this story is exactly why. For reference, robo hamsters are about an inch long and weigh less than an ounce. 

Mom: “My son wants to hold a robo hamster.”

Me: “How old is your son? Robo hamsters are very quick, so—”

Mom: “He’s four, but I’ll be there with him.”

Me: “Are you going to buy it?”

Mom: “Oh, my God, no. I hate rodents!”

Me: “Right, so, if he wants to just hold an animal, might I suggest a guinea pig? They’re much friendlier, and—”

Mom: “Look, customers like me get your paycheck filled. Get us the robo hamster, or get your manager.”

Me: “Okay, I’ll be back.”

I go to get my manager. She is of the mindset that a customer is never wrong, so I let her handle these things. 

Me: “Hey, [Manager], there’s a mother with her four-year-old who wants to hold a robo hamster, but they’re not buying anything.”

Manager: “Are you afraid of the robo hamsters or something?”

Me: “No, but they are very fast, and every time we allow a small child to hold one, it goes missing.”

Manager: “Fine! I’ll do it.”

[Manager] goes to introduce herself to the mother and child. I follow with a small box. 

Manager: “Okay honey, here is what we have to do: I’m going to bring the enclosure down, and you can put your hand in and let the hamster come to you. We don’t want him running away, though, so don’t lift your hands out of the container, okay?”

Four-Year-Old: *Nodding excitedly* “Yeah, yeah, yeah! Are you watching, Mom?”

Mom: *Scrolling on her phone* “I’m right here.”

[Manager] brings the enclosure down and removes the lid. The boy shoves both hands in, and the little hamsters immediately come over to him. He cups one in his hands and lifts it so it’s in the air about a foot above the enclosure. [Manager] moves to guide his hands back to safety, but it’s too late. The hamster jumps and skitters off under another shelf.

The boy screams — whether he’s excited or scared, I don’t know. Mom looks up from her phone.

Mom: “What happened?”

Me: “It escaped.”

Mom: “Well, why would it do that?”

Me: “Well—”

Manager: “[My Name], go see if you can catch it.”

I walk off, knowing I’ll never see that hamster again. A few minutes later, [Manager] finds me crawling on the floor, looking around. 

Manager: “I don’t know what has gotten into you, but this has to stop. You can’t tell people they can’t hold pets, and you can’t make them feel bad when things go wrong.”

Me: “I am here for the safety and well-being of our animals over the entitlement of a woman and her child.”

Manager: “You—”

Me: “I determined that an overstimulated four-year-old holding the smallest, fastest hamster we have was a bad choice, but his mom wanted you. You determined that a four-year-old was capable of holding his excitement in check. This is not my fault.”

Manager: “Well… next time, just be more aware!”

Me: “Of what? What did I miss?”

Manager: “You could have… You know what? Just find the hamster!”

I found it a few days later, but it was not in any condition to sell. It went to the vet for a checkup but ultimately was not returned to the store. [Manager] finally decided that only potential buyers could hold animals, and anyone under twelve was an absolute no.

I was written up for my attitude, but I didn’t care; I was already looking for another job. When the new job asked for a start date, I told [Manager] I was leaving at the end of my shift and not coming back.