Unfiltered Story #87851

, , | Unfiltered | June 3, 2017

Seemingly normal day. Customer 1’s husband was asking questions so I was answering him and ignoring her random mutterings. They chose a dog door. Later, the wife brings it back to exchange for a bigger size. Huge note here, we don’t keep customer information in our system. We never take addresses and our store will never call a customer unless asked.

Me: Sorry that one didn’t work, this one should be good though.

Customer: I guess its good for you because now I have to pay more money.

Me: It won’t be too much.

(Put in small item as a return, the system then prompts for a name, and then later a phone number.)

Me: Can I get your name for the return? (at this point the customer looks shocked and immediately raises her voice)


Me: I’m sorry, I just need a name for the return. Even a nickname.


Me: We don’t use this information unless absolutely necessary, and it is rarely used. Company policy says that I need it to do your return.

Customer: YOU ARENT GETTING ANYTHING I HAD MY IDENTITY STOLEN (goes on saying random things and generally being angry)

Me: (looks at my manager) ok just… what do I even do here?

Customer 2: (after customer 1 leaves, customer 2 walks up with purchases, looking at me with eyebrows raised) well, that was a weird one.

(I have no idea why this crazy lady felt the need to yell at me in front of a lineup, when earlier I made sure to explain that returns require a name and number.)

Unfiltered Story #88988

, , | Unfiltered | June 1, 2017

(This happens way too often)

Me: If I can get you to sign here when you’re ready. (I set down the credit card receipt. As I go to get the customer’s receipt, I see that they are staring at me.) Uh, there are pens right here. (Motion to the pens, which are RIGHT beside where I set down the credit card receipt every time)

Their Fish Are About To Be Liquidated

| Austin, TX, USA | Right | May 25, 2017

(I am working the fish department when a customer comes up to me, smelling very strongly of marijuana. His eyes are bloodshot and his pattern of speech is a bit off.)

Customer: “Excuse me, can you help me?”

Me: “Sure! What can I do for you?”

Customer: “Do you have liquid food for fish? My baby fish are too small for normal food.”

Me: “Um, I really don’t think so since they would be breathing it in and that’s not good for them. But we can look?”

(I lead him to the fish food section.)

Me: “It doesn’t look like we do. What are you feeding the adult fish?”

Customer: “Flakes but they are too big!”

Me: “Maybe you could just crumble the food smaller for them?”

Customer: “You know what? That could work… Thank you!”

(Not sure how he thought fish were going to eat liquid food while they are floating in water.)

Don’t Like Your Dog-Gone Attitude

| USA | Right | May 19, 2017

(I work at a shop near a pet store but I’m often there to visit my friends who do work there, and their pets. On this visit I’m sitting on the ground petting my friend’s dog.)

Customer: “Excuse me? Do you work here?”

Me: “No, I’m sorry, I don’t.”

Customer: “Is that your dog?”

Me: “No, it belongs to the girl who works here.”

Customer: “Where is she?”

Me: “She’s in the back helping someone. She should be back in a minute.”

Customer: “Can you lock him up?”

Me: “What? No, he’s not my dog.” *at this point the dog, who’s tied up, is sleeping in my lap*

Customer: “Well, can you put him in the back?”

Me: “No, he’s not my dog and I don’t work here.”

Customer: “Well—” *she gestures to the small dog she’s holding* “—my dog can’t be around other dogs. He’s a rescue and I don’t know how he’ll behave. You should get rid of that dog.”

(Her dog doesn’t really seem to care about anything going on around it.)

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, this isn’t my dog so I can’t move him.”

(She started to again tell me why I should get rid of this other dog in a pet store but because I didn’t work there I gave the sleeping dog a snuggle and left.)

Chewing Them Out For All The Wrong Reasons

| Omaha, NE, USA | Right | May 14, 2017

(I adopted two very active dogs. I take them to the store with me, and they run with my bike on the bike paths; I toss their food in my bike carrier. As I’m locking my bike and the idiot dogs are bouncing all over, a woman starts yelling about dog abuse. A manager comes outside.)

Customer: “She—” *points to me* “—made those poor dogs RUN with her bike!”

Manager: “Yeah, those dogs think that’s fun. They run here weekly.”

Customer: “But, they were running!”

Me: “Yup. That’s why they were at the shelter. They’re obnoxious, hyper dogs. Thus, I bike; they run. Thor, stop jumping!”

Customer: “But, they’ll get tired!”

Me: “That’s my attempt.”

Manager: “I’ve never seen those two wear down.”

Me: “I said attempt. I made no claims of success.”

(Later on, her little yappy dog has a chewy at the register. I’m at the register across from her.)

Cashier: “Aww! Pup needs to put his chew on the counter for check out.”

Customer: “Oh, Fido left his money at home.”

Cashier: “Well, then guess you’re buying Fido’s chew.”

Customer: “I didn’t pick it out!”

Cashier: “Well, your dog has chewed on it, so you get to buy it.”

Customer: “But I didn’t pick it out!” *stamps her foot like a toddler*

Guy Behind Her: “Lady, buy the d*** chewy.”

(As we were leaving, she was muttering about dog abusers again.)

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