They’re A McDud  

, , , , , , | Working | October 7, 2019

(I’m the supervisor of a little retail print shop, and the store manager has recently hired a new employee against my better judgement. Her only qualification is that she sometimes uses Photoshop at home. However, her cousin works in a different part of the store as a cashier and put in a good word for her, so the manager assumes it is worth a try. Unfortunately, she can barely function in the role she is given. Despite my many attempts to walk the employee through the basics, even leaving printed directions and the phone numbers of other stores in the chain so that on-duty associates can help her if she gets stuck, she never improves. My store manager even sets her up with some online training courses to complete, to no avail. One day, while I am trying to find a customer’s order form so I can quality check it…)

Me: “Okay, so, up next we have Mr. Mc[Customer]. Let’s pull up his order.”

(I head to the filing cabinet — yeah, this print shop is slightly behind the times — and look for the document under M. There’s no form. Then, I look for it under N and L just in case it was off by one letter on accident. Still no form.)

Me: “[Employee], you filled out a form for this customer’s order, right?”

Employee: “Yes. And I filed it under his name.”

Me: “Can you show me, please?”

(The employee walks over, opens the cabinet, and pulls the form from the C folder.)

Employee: “Under C for ‘Mc[CUSTOMER].’”

Me: “Okay. For future reference, if a customer’s last name starts with ‘Mc,’ ‘Mac,’ ‘O’,’ or similar, that first portion of the last name counts, too. So, you’d file a Mc[Customer] under M, and an O’Sullivan would be filed under O, and so on.”

Employee: “Ooohhhhhhh.”

(Unfortunately, my attempt to explain didn’t help. This sort of conversation was a regular occurrence. I always tried to be super polite when explaining these things to the employee, but there were times I really wanted to lose my temper. She was still working there by the time I quit because the store manager felt too guilty to fire his cashier’s cousin, even though she was still struggling to handle her four-hour shift duties after almost a year on the job.)

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Tattoo Are You?

, , , | Right | October 6, 2019

(For a short while, the shop I work at has four workers — including me — who have similar distinguishing features. This kind of interaction happens often, but only once when all of us are working at the same time.)

Customer: “Hi. I’m here to proof an order. I can’t remember the person who helped me, but she wears glasses and has long brown hair.”

Me: “Well, that could be any of us. If you let me know what name your order is under, I could complete it for you.”

Customer: “Umm, I’d rather continue working with the person I placed the order with. There are some details I wanted to make sure were done correctly and we had already started talking about that.”

Me: “Okay. Was there anything else that would help let me know who it was?”

Customer: “I think she had tattoos.”

Me: “Well, that eliminates one of us. It can’t be [Coworker #1].”

([Coworker #2] walks by with a stack of paper in their arms.)

Me: “[Coworker #2], did you happen to help this gentleman with his order?”

Coworker #2: *takes a moment to jog her memory* “I’m sorry, but I don’t think so. Did you check with [Coworker #1]? She was working yesterday.”

Me: “No, he says it was a woman wearing glasses with long brown hair and tattoos.” *addressing the customer* “Excuse me for a moment and let me check with [Coworker #3].”

(I head into the back and ask [Coworker #3] to take a glance and see if this was their customer. They, too, do not recognize the customer and I’m starting to be at a loss. As a last resort, I go into the break room where [Coworker #1] is eating their lunch and ask them to take a glance at the customer through the break room’s door.)

Coworker #1: *sighs* “Yeah, that’s him. I can take care of it now.”

Me: “Don’t worry. I’ll let him know that you’re on break and that if it’s absolutely necessary that he can either wait for you or I can complete the order.” *whispering* “He seems dense enough that I could convince him that I’m you.”

(I head back to the front where the customer has been waiting while mentally face-palming about this whole interaction. I show them the proof, and he reviews the spelling, for which I have to point to each item and ask if it is correct because he only seems to be glancing at the text and saying it looks fine. He also becomes very dismissive of the details he was fretting over previously. I mark down the corrections and complete the transaction.)

Me: “I’ll have [Coworker #1] finish up your order, but—” *out of morbid curiosity* “—do you mind me asking why you said that the person who started your order has tattoos? She actually abhors them.”

Customer: “All of your coworkers, and yourself, have tattoos, so I just assumed she did.”

Me: *pause* “Okay, we’ll see you tomorrow.”

(When my coworker came back from break and I told her about the interaction, we joked about having to do a police line-up for future customers like that.)


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Dirty Behavior Is On The Cards

, , , | Right | September 16, 2019

(I work in a print shop. I’m bringing a customer his order to the front counter, where another order for a different customer was left by my boss. When I get to the counter, I see that he’s manhandling a custom playing card deck, trying to keep the rubber band in place while folding over the cards to look at the back.)

Me: “Excuse me, that’s another customer’s order. Could you please not do that?!”

Customer: “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize.”

(I gave him a look, reconsidered losing my cool with him, and swapped the cards out of his hands for his actual order. That’s when I noticed that he had the dirtiest hands I’d ever seen. I simply walked into the back and let my boss deal with the rest of the transaction. I had to reprint the other customer’s order because he had creased the cards and put oily smudges all over them.)

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Customers Can Wear You Down More Than An Old Photo

, , , | Right | September 2, 2019

Customer: “Hi. I’d like you to print this photo I took on holiday in Italy on glossy paper.”

Me: “Not a problem. That will be $5 and you can pick it up this afternoon.”

(The customer comes back later on.)


Me: “I’m not following. Like what original?”

(The customer hands me an old, faded photo taken in the 80s when he was on holiday there thirty years ago.)

Me: “Well, it’s the same framing. I’m unsure of what you want.”

Customer: “It looks too new and shiny and bright!”

Me: “Well, unfortunately, there isn’t a ‘faded, bad-quality 80s photo’ button on our machine. I’m sorry. We can photoshop it for you to look old, but that will cost more.”

Customer: “I don’t have that kind of money to pay you!”

Me: “Maybe leave the photo out in the sun for a few years?”

(Yes, that’s right; the customer was complaining because our machine printed his file too well.)

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Unfiltered Story #160908

, , , | Unfiltered | August 25, 2019

(Customer comes in an hour before closing. I finished closing duties and there wasn’t anyone else around. At this point I was practically praying for company.)
Me: “Hi! What brings you in tonight?”
Customer: “I need to send a fax.”
Me: “Well our faxing is self-serve and in the section to your right. You can go ahead and get started but let me know if there’s anyth-”
Customer: “I know but you guys always do it for me. This is what needs to fax and this is the number.”
Me: “Okay! Well I’d like to let you know that these days we’re trying to reduce the amount of outgoing faxes from our incoming fax due to the higher volume of spam-”
Customer: “Whatever! You guys do this for me all this time!”
(I take the papers from her and go to our fax to start dialing the number. The following happens within less than a minute…)
Me (while dialing): “Well I’m curious, have you tried our self-serve?”
Customer, scoffing; “I just wanna pay cash. I don’t have a card. I do this all the time with you guys.”
(Customer begins to turn on her phone and tap a few things.)
Me: Oh no! I’ll go ahead and do this! Hey, did you know you can add cash onto a card to insert into our machines?”
Customer (calling someone and waiting for them to pick up): “Yeah whatever… Hey [private conversation that I tune out]. Yeah this b**** at [store] is taking a while…”
(At this point I’m stunned. I barely got through half of the fax number before this remark. Then I realize she was seeming standoffish and quick to disregard me prior to this. I stop dialing.)
Me: “I’m sorry, would you prefer going somewhere else?”
(She ignores me completely, but continues to speak down about me and my company to the person on the other line. I take the papers out of the fax machine and place them back on the counter. Her eyes widen.)
Customer: “Hold on, let me call you back. This fat b**** isn’t doing her job.” She hangs up. “Who’s your manager?! Get your manager!”
Me: “I’m the only one here.”
Customer: “You’re not a manager. GET. YOUR. MANAGER.”
Me: “I am the only one here. My manager will be in tomorrow at [time].”
Customer, taking a business card to write on: “WHAT IS HIS NAME? YOU FAT B**** TOO LAZY TO DO YOUR F****** JOB. GIVE ME HIS INFORMATION. I DEMAND TO SPEAK TO HIM.”
Me: “My manager’s name is [name].”
Customer: “AND YOUR NAME.”
Me: “My name is [my name] and [manager] will be in at [time] tomorrow for you to contact him.”
Customer: “Yeah. You’ll regret this you lazy b****.”
(Customer storms out. I type up a report on what had happened. She never did complain about me. Instead, she complained to my associate about how stupid it was to not be able to put coins in fax machines.)