You’ve Become The Figure Of THAT Customer

, , | Right | June 22, 2017

(I’m a young girl browsing the toy section of a retail store. I’m looking for a particular set of popular figurines. After 15 minutes, I still can’t seem to find them, so I approach one of the workers.)

Me: “Hi, where are the [Figurines]?”

Employee: “Um…” *snickering* “Right behind you!”

(I turn around and find half the store is dedicated to these figures, and they’re literally on every shelf. There’s also a massive light up sign with the figurine logo.)

Me: “Um… um… thanks!”

(I still wonder today how on earth I could have possibly missed them… I’m a regular to that store, and that exact employee always gestures to the figures with a smirk!)

Getting Themselves Into An Even Bigger Mess

, , | Working | June 22, 2017

(I enter a store’s bathroom to use it, and the stalls are all full except for one, and a nightmarish scene is in there. Blood and urine stains everywhere, and the smell is horrific. I exit and find a worker, who is a teenager.)

Me: “Excuse me, I’ve just been in the female restroom—”

Worker #1: “Wah?”

Me: “—and there’s a big mess in one of the stall., I don’t know who—”

Worker #1: *yells behind me at someone* “Hey! Come over here. This chick is saying something about a mess she made?”

Me: “No! It wasn’t me!”

(Another worker joins us, and he seems perhaps older and more sensible. But no.)

Worker #2: “What’s this? A mess?”

Worker #1: “Yeah, she said a mess in the bathroom and she made it!”

Me: “I SAID IT WASN’T ME.”

Worker #2: “Well, I’m not cleaning it!”

Worker #1: “Yeah, we can’t enter the female bathrooms, anyway.”

Worker #2: “I doubt we have any females working now.” *to me* “Since you made the mess, we’ll hand you a mop and you can clean it, ‘kay?”

Me: “Where’s the manager?”

(The manager came over, and I explained to her what happened, with the two male workers still insisting that I made the mess and laughing. What clowns. I left.)

Serving Cruella DeVille

, , , | Right | June 21, 2017

Me: “Is there anything I can help you with, miss?”

Customer: “You don’t have much, do you? I can’t find anything!”

(I stare at the huge wall of DVDs. She pulls out a small notepad.)

Customer: “I was looking for 101 Dalmatians.”

(I pull it off the shelf.)

Customer: “And Captain America!”

(Again I pull it off the shelf.)

Customer: “And—”

Me: “Maybe this will go quicker if you give me the list?”

(She hands it over and I see close to 15 titles, most of which are within view.)

Me: “You didn’t look?”

Customer: *smiling* “No.”

Me: “You wanted someone else to find them for you?”

Customer: “Yes.”

Me: “You could have just asked.”

Customer: *smile disappearing* “I don’t like your attitude.”

(She took the list and left the store, but not without complaining to my manager that I tried assaulting her. It’s a good thing he had full view of us the entire time, and was within ear shot.)

Direction Deflection

, , , , | Right | June 21, 2017

(This takes place over the phone:)

Customer: “Hi, can you tell me which side of the street your store is on?”

Me: “Absolutely, we’re on the west side.”

Customer: “Is that on the left or the right?”

Me: “That depends on which direction you’re coming from. Are you coming from the North end or the South end?”

Customer: “I don’t know!”

Me: “Well, will you come through [major Southern intersection] or [major Northern intersection]?”

Customer: “How the h*** am I supposed to know? Look, is it on the left or the right? What is so hard about this?”

Me: “If it helps, we’re in the same plaza as [Chain Restaurant], and across the street from [Chain Store].”

Customer: “No, that does NOT help! I’m new to the area!”

Me: “Do you have a GPS? I could give you the address to plug in.”

Customer: “I don’t need a GPS! I have a great sense of direction!”

The Number One Problem Here Is The Manager

, , , , | Working | June 21, 2017

(We’ve had a little accident with a five-year-old who has wet himself. He’s crying quite a bit as his mum tries to sort him out. We have a cleaner sorting out the mess. After he is tended to, he and his mum come out and see our manager glaring at them. He speaks to the boy first.)

Manager: “You should be ASHAMED OF YOURSELF! HAVE YOU NO SELF CONTROL, YOU ANIMAL?!”

Mother: “Excuse me; that’s my son. He’s only five!”

Manager: “AND HAVE YOU ANY PRIDE, WOMAN?! BRINGING AN UNDISCIPLINED MAGGOT INTO MY SHOP, PISSING EVERYWHERE. GET OUT NOW, BEFORE I HAVE BOTH OF YOU ARRESTED!”

(The mother looks horrified as she rushes her son out of the store, while our manager follows her out, screaming louder with every sentence. After they leave, he addresses us.)

Manager: “That is how you handle white trash. The lowest most despicable vermin of our society. In future, if you ever see people like that again, you have my permission to drag them out.”

(I’m too petrified to speak, but am eyeing the door and considering just leaving and never coming back. The feeling seems to be hanging on everyone’s head, but a head supervisor is the first to speak.)

Supervisor: “I may as well pack my bags now then.”

Manager: “What? But you’re my best!”

Supervisor: “I also have a maggot who also wets himself. Yes, I said it. WETS HIMSELF! I hope your mother wasn’t too harsh on you to think it is all right to scream at a five-year-old for an accident. I’m off!”

(This is what broke the silence and we all voiced our disapproval before leaving. The manager sputtered out an attempt at back-pedaling, but it fell on deaf ears. He had to call HR and explain why he needed replacement staff, and according to the other management, got a stern talking to from his manager, who just so happened to have a son around the same age as the boy.)

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