You Got To Have A Lorra Lorra Laughs Or You’ll Cry

, , , , , | Right | April 8, 2019

(In my first job, I am placed in the refund section of a large department store in the UK. In my years there, I’ve had my fair share of terrible customers, but this is still the strangest customer I’ve ever encountered. It’s a slow weekday shift. A lady in her mid- to late 60s approaches my desk with a small plastic bag.)

Me: “Hello. How can I help you today?”

Customer: “I’d like to return these bras, please.”

Me: “No problem. What is the reason for the return?”

Customer: “Do you know who Cilla Black is? You’re probably too young to know her.”

(I’m thrown by the sudden change of topic, but I inform the customer I do know who she is, thanks in most part to my grandparents’ love of the show “Blind Date.”)

Customer: “Well, I was watching a program with her in it last night and she was talking about how much she hates white bras, because they always end up going gray when you wash them. She’s a very smart woman; you probably don’t know who she is.”

Me: “Um, okay. Well, as I said, I do know who she…”

Customer: “And I thought to myself, she’s right; white bras all go gray over time. It’s terrible. So, I brought them here today to get a full refund.”

(She then proceeds to dump two very old, worn-looking bras onto the desk in front of me. Both of them have obviously been well used, and I don’t recognise them as part of our current range. Still, I hope for the best and try my hardest to remain professional.)

Me: “Do you happen to have the receipt for these two items?

Customer: “Oh, no. Why would I keep a receipt for that long?”

Me: *trying not to touch the bras* “How long have you had these, exactly?”

Customer: “Well, I don’t know, but look at them. Look how gray they are. She was right, wasn’t she? Cilla Black knows what she’s talking about.”

(As much as I would love to tell this customer to leave and take her gray bras with her, my management is very lenient with returns and I know they’re probably going to offer this woman at least store credit. So, I pick up the bras — begrudgingly — and look for the code on the label in the fabric, only to find no code. The label is bare. The garments have been washed so much that all the text has faded away completely until there is nothing left but a blank label. I now have two old, well-worn bras with no receipt, no code, and no way to even tell if they came from our store in the first place.)

Me: “I’m very sorry, but there’s no way for me to process this refund.”

Customer: “But they’ve gone gray. Just like Cilla Black said.”

Me: “Yes, I do see that, but unfortunately, I have no way of putting them through the till. They have no barcode on them and this is not a style we carry anymore. I don’t think we’ve stocked them for a very long time.”

Customer: “But they’re gray.”

Me: “I do apologise, but there’s no way to even tell which store they came from. See?” *proffers the blank label for her to see* “I have no way to refund them. I am sorry, but there’s nothing I can do.”

(The customer goes quiet and looks thoughtful for a moment as if what I’ve said has begun to sink in.)

Customer: “I see… You obviously don’t know who Cilla Black is. If you did you’d, understand. She’s such a smart lady. That program I watched with her in it was so good. I always watch Cilla Black. She’s amazing. Let me explain to you who she is and then you’ll understand. You’re just too young to know her; that’s the problem. And on the program last night she was…”

Me: “Let me just go get my manager.”

(It took my manager fifteen minutes to convince her that she couldn’t return old, used garments just because of a celebrity she saw on a TV program. She left with her bras and I never saw her again. Definitely not my worst customer, but absolutely my weirdest.)

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You Almost Need A Club To Walk To The Nightclub At Night

, , , , , , | Friendly | March 1, 2019

(I get a call to go and pick up my very independent girlfriend from a nightclub because her overprotective work friends won’t let her leave without either getting in a taxi or having me come pick her up. The club is roughly a ten-minute walk from the house. I start to head to the club, carrying only keys, and clock a stranger on the other side of the road. He is walking in the opposite direction until he spots me and crosses over. I am rather tall and, according to my girlfriend, rather intimidating… until I open my mouth, because of my posh accent. I am always wary of people, as I was bullied at school by short people wanting to pick a fight, wanting to make their mark.)

Stranger: “Hey there!”

(He starts walking in the direction I am going, walking fairly quickly to try and keep pace. I am crossing a long bridge without any possible escape routes, putting me on edge.)

Stranger: “Where are you going?”

Me: *still walking, but determined to remain polite and non-provocative* “[Nightclub].”

Stranger: “Meeting someone special?”

(There is a creepy tone in his voice, which makes me even more wary.)

Me: “Yep.”

Stranger: “It’s a girl, right?” *gives a cocky grin* “I’m going there, too! Let’s get a taxi!”

Me: *thinking how he was initially walking north when the club was south, setting off more alarm bells* “I’m all right, mate; it’s not far.”

Stranger: “I don’t mind. We’ll get a taxi!”

Me: “You can get one if you want, but I don’t have any cash on me. It’s not far, though.”

Stranger: “Don’t worry; I’ll pay for it!”

(We get to the end of the bridge as he repeatedly tries to get me to flag down a taxi. I carry on down one side of the road whilst he starts to cross over to the other. My route involves crossing a road south, then going east; his route involves going east and then crossing the road to go south.)

Stranger: “Where are you going, mate? It’s this way!”

Me: “I’m going this way. Have a good evening!”

Stranger: “It’s this way, [gay slur]!”

(He continued walking his way to the nightclub, which was retracing the direction he originally came from. I can only assume he wanted to stiff me for a taxi fare. As it was so close, it was not worth getting a taxi to go a distance of two streets.)

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Unfiltered Story #138493

, , , | Unfiltered | February 1, 2019

Me – Hi there, can I help
The customer wasn’t from the country but had a good grasp of English, however he seemed pretty drunk.
Customer – Give me [Sandwich]
Other guy on shift takes over making said sandwich
Employee – Any salad?
Customer – Lettuce *mumbles something*
Employee – What was that sir? I couldn’t quite hear you
Customer – Lettuce, no look. Pepper, no look.
Employee – You don’t want me to look at you? (incredibly confused)
Customer – No look *said in an angry way*
Employee – If you’re going to keep being rude, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.
Customer – *Blows raspberry, sticks middle fingers up* FUCK YOU THEN *leaves shop*

The Root Of Your Problems

, , , , , | Healthy | May 5, 2018

(I am the patient in this story. After many, many years of not receiving dental treatment, I finally get good dental insurance and make an appointment with a dentist. After the x-rays come back, I have in total 14 cavities and severe sensitivity in a majority of my teeth, and I need one root canal. After many visits, I am finally down to the root canal. So far, for a majority of my appointments, the dentist has been rough, short-tempered, and pissy. I am on a time limit to get all this work done, so I just live with it. Sadly, my final appointment does not go well.)

Dentist: *jerks my head* “Oh, s***.”

Me: “Everything okay?”

Dentist: “We are going to have to stop here and send you to someone else.”

Me: “Why?”

Dentist: “I broke a drill bit in one of your roots.”

Me: “I am fine with being sent to someone else, but my insurance ends tomorrow; this root canal needs to be done.”

Dentist: “Don’t worry; it will be done. We are sending you to our specialist. He is really good at root canals.”

Me: *skeptical* “Okay, as long as it gets done.”

(Next day:)

Specialist Dentist: “I don’t know how they managed to break a bit in your root, but the good news is that it broke on the torque, so it sealed the root. We can leave it in and just finish the root canal.”

Me: “Fine, let’s just get this done.”

(Another hour later, as they finish drilling the rest of the roots…)

Specialist Dentist: “We are finished. Schedule your next appointment for the filling and the crown.”

Me: “Um, no, you need to fill this and put the crown on. My insurance ends today; I do not have $1,600 to pay out-of-pocket for this.”

Specialist Dentist: “We can’t finish this today; you’re not scheduled for that.”

(After that, they made me leave. It has been four months, and two of the fillings they did have fallen off, the tooth with the unfinished root canal has cracked, and the broken fillings have exposed nerves. I managed to scrape together enough money to fix one of the fillings, but the other broken filling is out of the budget, and so is the unfinished root canal. It’s pretty bad when a filling falls off while eating pancakes.)

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Meeting Aunt Petunia

, , , , , , | Friendly | April 2, 2018

(I live in downtown, about two blocks away from our county fairgrounds. It’s Saturday night during a fair, and I have my windows open to let in the cooler air. I’m watching a Harry Potter movie. With my window open, you can see the television from the street. There’s a knock on my door. I open it to see a boy of about ten standing there.)

Me: “Um… Hello.”

Boy: “I want to watch the movie! Mom says to stay here while she goes out.”

Me: “Sorry, kid. I don’t know you. You need to go back to your mom.”

Boy: *pouts but leaves*

(Ten minutes later, there’s a pounding on my door.)

Mom: “I TOLD HIM HE COULD WATCH YOUR MOVIE! Just let him hang out here while I visit the bars! It’ll only be a couple hours.”

Me: “Lady, I don’t know you people, and you don’t know me. How do you know I’m not a child sex offender? If you want a free babysitter, call a friend or family member.”

Mom: “NO! It’s tourist season, and you all have to make us feel at home! Now, do your part and let him in!”

Me: “Yeah… No. Get out of here before I take your picture and send it to the cops. We’re a small town. They love hearing about neglected kids.”

(She scowled at me but finally left. The boy was still whining about wanting to watch my movie. There a lot of sickos out there, people! Keep an eye on your kids during big events.)

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