Refunder Blunder, Part 16

| WA, USA | Right | August 26, 2015

(It has been an insanely busy Friday in our store. I’m the only manager, so I have spent the last six hours running from one customer to the next, dealing almost exclusively with entitled idiots. This is probably my seventh no-receipt-return of the day.)

Me: “Okay, so you don’t have a receipt? Did you purchase this at our store?”

Customer: “NO. I bought it at the north store.”

Me: “Oh, unfortunately I can’t look up the receipt because our system only tracks transactions for our store.”

(I’m about to elaborate that I can call the other store, but she is glaring at me, and I’m already fed up with her tone.)

Customer: *huffing* “Well, can’t you do merchandise credit? It’s obviously unused.”

Me: “No. I’m sorry, but we still need a receipt for credit or exchang—”

Customer: “WHY NOT?! It’s unused. Look at it, it’s obviously unused. I’m not driving up to the north store just for a receipt.”

Me: *giving up* “Without a receipt we have no proof of purchase.”

Customer: “Well, that’s pretty lame. It’s obviously unused. It’s not my fault you can’t find my receipt.”

Me: “…It’s not our fault we can’t find your receipt.”

(She blinked at me angrily before declaring she would never set foot in our store again. Good.)

 

This Service Just Tanked

| MI, USA | Right | August 25, 2015

(I am the customer. I am buying a bearded dragon and set-up for my daughter. The employee has been showing me everything I need, including the tank and supplies.)

Employee: “You will also need this scrub brush.”

Me: “What? I have to scrub the bearded dragon?”

Employee: “No, it’s to scrub the tank.”

Me: “…This is going on ‘Not Always Right,’ isn’t it?”

Sadly Having A Ball

| Cranston, RI, USA | Right | August 6, 2015

(I’m working registers at the moment which also means I’m in charge of answering the phones; I’m certified throughout the store, so usually I don’t even have to transfer the call. Note, we are a just a pet store, not a specialty vet. This transpires one day:)

Me: “Thank you for calling [Store]. This is [My Name]. How can I help you?”

Caller: “Hi, I think my hamster might be injured. My son put him in a hamster ball, and then the ball slipped and hit the floor. The hamster just kinda stayed in one position for a minute or two, like he was dead and didn’t look like he was breathing. Then we flipped him over and he moved a little bit so we can see he’s breathing, but he hasn’t moved since. What would you do?”

Me: “Well, if I was in your position, I’d bring him straight to the vet; we use [Local Vet] because they specialize in small animals.”

Caller: “Sooo… do I bring him, or do you?”

Me: “You would take him.”

(The customer still didn’t seem all that concerned that her son may have caused a serious injury to his pet.)

Not Very Manly Behavior

| ON, Canada | Right | August 2, 2015

(I am in my 20s. I am a moderately tall and sturdily-built woman. An older man, perhaps in his 70s, buys a 50 pound bag of dog food. My coworker on cash asks if he would like someone to carry the heavy bag out to his car, and he says yes. Since I’m working the front, I go to do that.)

Old Man: “No, I want your boss to do it.”

(My boss is a small man, shorter and slimmer than me, and is helping another customer.)

Me: “He’s busy at the moment. I’m perfectly—”

Old Man: “No, you can’t. I want him to do it.”

Me: “Really, I’m quite strong…”

Old Man: “No, no, you can’t do it. Just put it down!”

Boss: *having overheard, comes over and gestures to me to give him the bag* “It’s okay.”

Me: “But I’m bigger than you…”

Boss: *taking the bag* “Yeah, don’t worry about it.”

(When my boss came back, he told me that the older customer just didn’t want a woman doing something he could not.)

Should Have Vetted Their Outbursts

| ON, Canada | Right | July 22, 2015

(I have worked in a pet store selling dogs and cats for five years at this point, and wear a tag that says my name and that I am a ‘dog specialist.’)

Customer: “Psh, dog specialist my a**. That girl looks like she is just starting high school.”

Coworker: “So, [My Name], how is your third year of veterinary school going?”

(The client turns bright red and leaves the store. The next day, she came back and started asking me questions as to why her dog might be limping.)

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