Customer: “Hello, I would like to return this, please.” *hands me a deodorant*
Me: *takes the cap off and sees that the container is empty* “I’m sorry, I can’t return this. It’s already been used.”
Customer: “Exactly. So I don’t need it anymore.”
Me: “…”
(In the time leading up to Thanksgiving each fall, our farm store carries supplies to cook a turkey: the fryer itself, peanut oil, etc. Last season a gentleman came in looking for a ‘cooker’ and I assumed this is what he wanted. I took him over to the shelf and this is how that conversation went:)
Me: “Here we are sir, turkey fryers!”
Customer: “No, no, this isn’t it. I mean, these are nice but the ones you had last year are what I’m looking for.”
Me: “These are the same style we carry every year. How was the other one different?”
Customer: “Well it didn’t use oil at all. Just two sticks.”
Me: “Two sticks?”
Customer: “Yeah, it was just a plate with two vertical sticks.”
Me: “Umm… I have to admit I’m a bit lost on this one. I’ve worked here for five years and the oil-type is the only turkey fryer we’ve had.”
Customer: “No, no. I’d like the style you had last year.”
Me: “Well, if you’d like to leave your information I’d be happy to check into special ordering you something. So it’s a flat plate and…?”
Customer: “Okay. So, it’s a flat plate with a cord sticking out of it, and two round tubes that stick straight up. I’m sorry, but this isn’t a pretty subject…”
Me: “Go ahead…”
Customer: *lowered voice* “Well, you can do two turkeys at once on it. You stick the tube up the turkey’s a**, plug it in, and it cooks it.”
Me: “…”
(After a few more moments of awkward conversation, I came to the conclusion the customer had made Thanksgiving dinner last year with a boot warmer.)
This story is part of the Thanksgiving 2022 roundup!
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(Part of my job involves greeting customers and touching back with them to make sure they’re able to find what they were looking for. I also have to ask them about opening store charge card which is as awkward for me as it is for them. Most of the customers are polite and good-natured about it.)
Me: “Oh, good afternoon, ma’am! What brings you in today?”
(The customer is already walking in the other direction. This happens sometimes since sometimes my voice can be kind of soft, especially when we have several customers coming in over a short period of time, so I just assume she didn’t hear me and think nothing of it. Later, I find her browsing in my zone while I’m touching back with customers.)
Me: “Hi, ma’am, are you finding everything all right?”
Customer: “Hm.”
Me: “Will you be shopping with our store charge—”
Customer: “I don’t like this kind of service. I thought I made that clear when I ignored you at the door!”
(I’m so stunned that I can’t say anything as she walks out the door. I turn to see one of my coworkers and another customer staring after her in surprise.)
Coworker: “Woah.”
Customer: “But… you were just doing your job, weren’t you?”
(I worked at my parent’s local general store when I was young, around 15. Note: Our parents are some of those who responded to 9/11 and all of us lost family members, like my aunt. It’s a very personal topic. The following takes place at our little 9/11 memorial shelf, which I’m restocking.)
Customer: “Why are they making such a big deal out of 9/11? It’s not like it happened here!”
Me: “Ma’am, our parents are ones who responded to 9/11… We only live an hour or two away from New York!”
Customer: “Oh, sweetie, 9/11 was nothing! The government makes a big deal out of everything!”
(Having not had to deal with bad customers since, I’m not used to this b**** and begin to tear up.)
Me: “Ma’am, my auntie was killed being on the thirtieth floor when the first plane flew in. My father, just two aisles away, was a responder only thirty minutes after it happened and saved three people, with my mother and me, at one year old, worrying at home! My best friend lost his big sister! Please, if you’re going to disrespect our country, leave!”
(She turned white-faced and went to leave, but was stopped by my muscular dad who threatened to call the cops. We haven’t seen her or her out-of-state car again!)
(My friend and I are browsing a well known toy store for collectible figures. I’m coming back from the restroom as he finishes checking out.)
Me: “Man, that restroom smells like Play-Doh.”
Friend: “Still?! I worked here 15 years ago. It smelled like Play-Doh then.”
Me: “Wow, how does a smell linger for that long?”
Friend: “I don’t think you want to know.”
