Unfiltered Story #144577

, , | Unfiltered | March 20, 2019

I work at a large, well-known retailer. At most other stores, the glasses department is on the same phone line as the rest of the store. I don’t know why,t ours is not.
Me: Thank you for calling [store, location], how may I direct your call?
Caller: This is [name] calling from the store in [nearby town]. May I please have [glasses department].
Me: I’m sorry, but they have a separate number. It is [number].
Caller reads it back to me.
Me: Have a great day.
I start to hang up.
Caller: So are you going to transfer me?
Facepalm

Scream Boo At These Customers

, , , | Right | March 19, 2019

(A customer has come in to try and return some obviously worn clothing they bought over a year ago, which is now well beyond our return policy date. It has been a fairly typical encounter up until this point; she just thinks that having her receipt will somehow negate the fact that she bought the clothes last year. Finally, she throws her head back and declares:)

Woman: “If you don’t help me, I shall cry.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I can do, since—“

Woman: *planting her head in her hands* “Boo hoo hoo hoo! Boo hoo hoo hoo!”

(She then proceeded to run out of the store, her head still in her hands, literally shouting, “Boo hoo hoo hoo,” over and over again in the same tone of voice that she had been yelling at me in. It was even more bizarre, given the fact that she had seemed perfectly normal, if very stubborn, up until that point.)

A Grade-A A**hole

, , , , | Right | March 19, 2019

(Someone I went to school with comes into my shop.)

Customer: “What size is this?” *holds up cup*

Me: “Large.”

Customer: “How can you know? You barely looked at it.”

Me: “It has, ‘large,’ written on it.”

Customer: “Well, you don’t have to be so f****** rude!” *leaves shouting that I’m stupid because I got a C in English while he got an A*

Shirty With The Truth

, , , | Right | March 19, 2019

(The store I work at has had immense issues with corporate, and we are waiting on them, and have been, for over a month for many things. We can’t physically sell the things people order online before we get them. My normal manager is out this week and in her place is a spineless assistant manager. I’m nineteen and am only working for the summer, yet I am practically in charge because of the incompetence.)

Customer: “I’ve been waiting two weeks for my shirts; where are they?!”

Me: “I’m so sorry about that, ma’am. Do you possibly have your order number so I can look that up?”

Customer: *rudely* “No, you should have it in the system.”

Me: “Okay, ma’am, can I have your name, please?”

(The customer glares at me LIKE I SOMEHOW SHOULD BE ABLE TO GUESS HER NAME and writes it down for me. I take it back to the manager, we search her up, and the system says her stuff shipped on Monday. I go back out.)

Me: “So, our system says it shipped on Friday, so hopefully you should see those in about a week.”

Customer: “Can I get a shipping number?”

Me: “Absolutely!”

(I go back again. The manager says that she doesn’t have one, so maybe we “shipped” it after the mail came on Friday, and the mail guy didn’t come again until today.)

Me: “So, my manager says that even though our system says it shipped on Friday, it is possible that it didn’t actually leave until today, which is why she can’t find a tracking number. If you want—“

Customer: “I knew it! I knew you weren’t telling me the truth! Get me someone who will actually tell the truth!”

(My manager comes out next to me and literally repeats everything I just said, while I’m standing next to her.)

Customer: “I could tell the way she—“ *flips hand at me* “—was looking at me that she was lying, that she wasn’t telling the truth. Thank you for telling me the truth.”

(She left and the manager went into the back again, yelling a quick “sorry” to me. I don’t know what planet she had to be on to think that a nineteen-year-old would be hiding and lying about her shirts.)

Wireless, Clueless, And Racist

, , , , , , | Right | March 19, 2019

(I’m working at a retail drug store that has a photo kiosk available for customers to come in and print photos from their phone. I am ringing up a line of customers when another customer calls me from the kiosk, yelling across the store.)

Customer: “Can I get some help, please?!”

Me: “Absolutely, ma’am. I’ll call up my manager, since I’m the only cashier today.”

Customer: *scoffs*

(I call up my manager, and can hear her trying to help the lady from several feet away.)

Manager: “Just plug your phone into the cords we have provided. That’s the simplest and fastest way to do this.”

Customer: “No! You’re going to steal all my information from my phone! I want to do this wirelessly!”

Manager: “Okay… the best way to do that is to do it as an online order, which may take up to an hour. We will be watching the kiosks, so as soon as the order comes through, we can print it instantly. However, as I said, it may take up to an hour for the order to come through. I highly recommend you plug the phone in, instead, as that will be much quicker.”

Customer: “I’m not using your cords. You’re trying to steal my credit card information! I’ll just do it as an online order.”

(The customer proceeds to put in an online order with her phone. Ten minutes later, her order has not yet come through, despite both my manager and I checking the kiosk repeatedly. My manager goes to the bathroom and is gone for a total of one minute and thirty seconds. During that time, the customer brings her four-year-old daughter up to me and screams:)

Customer:If and when those photos finally come in, you can throw them out. I’m taking my business somewhere else. I’ve been waiting for these photos for thirty minutes! This is absolutely ridiculous! That [racial slur] of a manager promised me that they would be ready instantly. I’m leaving and never coming back!”

Me: “Ma’am, I heard her tell you that it could take up to an hour, and I heard you agree to this. Are you sure I can’t take a phone number and call you when they’re ready?”

Customer: “No! Throw them out. I’m going elsewhere.”

(As they are leaving her daughter turns around and says:)

Daughter: “We’re going to [Direct Competitor].”

(Her photos were ready seconds after she left. There were over 300 photos and we had to just throw them away.)

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