This Dress Is Making You Bluer By The Minute

| Finland | Right | July 20, 2014

(I work in a clothing store and am well in on my last hour of a nine-hour shift. I cannot wait to go home, but at the last minute an elderly woman walks in and starts strolling around the store.)

Me: *trying not to let my tiredness show* “Hello! How may I help you?”

Customer: “WHAT?! SPEAK UP LOUDER, YOUNG LADY!”

Me: *rather loud* “Hello, ma’am! How may I help you?”

(The customer leans in towards my face . Not only is she almost yelling every word, she also has the most terrible breath I’ve ever encountered, but as a service-minded person I try not to let my reaction to the smell show on my face.)

Customer: “I’m looking for a specific dress. It’s blue.”

Me: “We have many blue dresses in our collection, ma’am. Could you be more specific?”

Customer: “MY GOD! DON’T YOU KNOW ANYTHING? I DON’T WORK HERE!”

(This continues for a while. I keep looking around the store while politely trying to find out more details about the dress she is looking for. It is now a quarter past closing time. Finally, we find it.)

Customer: “Now, this is really expensive. €19.95 for a single dress? What if I don’t like it?”

Me: “Ma’am, we have an open return policy; if you find that you’re unhappy with the purchase, we will gladly exchange it for you or give you your money back. Just bring it back with the receipt.”

Customer: “It’s a bit long. I don’t like dresses that are long. I might have to dust up my old sewing machine and make a few changes.”

Me: “That is an option, ma’am, but I should warn you, if you were to make alterations to the dress, we can’t take it back. If you want to return it, it has to be in its original state.”

Customer: “You WHAT? That’s insanely rude! Of course I should be able to make a few alterations and still get my money back! I would only improve it! It’s not really worth the price. I would be helping you.”

Me: “I’m very sorry, but that is our policy.”

(At last, now almost thirty minutes after closing time, she decides to buy the dress, so we walk together back to the till.)

Me: “That’ll be €19.95, ma’am.”

Customer: “That’s all right. I have a coupon so I get it for free.”

Me: “Hmm. Let me see the coupon. We usually do not have any coupons that entitles a free piece of clothing, only discounts.”

(The customer then hands me a lunch coupon for a nearby restaurant.)

Me: “I’m sorry, but I cannot accept this. This is not a coupon for our store, it’s a—”

Customer: *interrupting* “WHAT? You rude little thing! I’ve paid with this at other places without problem!”

Me: “Did you pay with these at [Restaurant nearby], by any chance?”

Customer: “EXACTLY! So stop being an idiot and give me my free dress!”

Me: “Again, I’m sorry, ma’am. I cannot accept this as a valid payment. I will be needing cash, or a credit card. I assure you, if you are not happy with the purchase, you will receive a full refund if you bring the dress back to us in its original state and with the receipt.”

Customer: “Fine!” *she throws her credit card directly at me*

Me: “Here, you put your card in this slot here, and press your pin-code to confirm the purchase.”

Customer: “WHAT? I don’t know my pin-code! Everyone else knows it! Why are you being stupid? Does everyone who works here lack brain cells?”

Me: “I do beg pardon, but there’s no need to insult me. That’s just the easier way for us to confirm payments. I’ll swipe the card for you, like this. Just sign here.”

(She just stood and looked at me for a while, fuming with her bad breath, until she finally signed her receipt and stormed off, a full 55 minutes after closing time.)

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A Cent-less Argument

, | Oran, FL, USA | Working | July 19, 2014

(I am the next customer in line while this happens. The customer in front of me is a mother, with three kids in tow.)

Cashier: Your total is $17.08

(The customer rummages through her purse, pulls out bills as well as change, and begins to count the change out on the counter for the cashier, who sighs loudly and just generally looks annoyed.)

Customer: “I’m eight cents short.”

Cashier: “And what do you want me to do about it? You got any change in the car?”

Customer: *hangs head down* “Yes. Let me go look.”

(The customer goes out the car for at least two or three minutes.)

Customer: “I only have four cents.”

Cashier: “Well, I’m not having my drawer be short. You need to find the four cents or else you need to put something back.”

Me: *takes a dollar bill out of my pocket, hands it to the cashier* “Just take it out of this.”

(The cashier rolls her eyes and finishes the transaction, puts the change near her, and proceeds to ring up my transaction.)

Me: “Just keep the change. You obviously need it more than me. You wouldn’t let your drawer be four cents short and you didn’t even attempt to give the change back.”

The Sport Caught Her Short

| MN, USA | Right | July 19, 2014

(I work at a popular athletic clothing/sports equipment store.)

Customer: “Excuse me, miss? I need some spandex shorts for my daughter. She’s joining volleyball.”

(I am excited to help because it’s my favorite sport.)

Me: “Of course! Let’s choose a color first. Black is the norm, but we also have red, a bunch of blues, and some lovely patterned ones.”

Customer: “I’m just looking for black.”

Me: “Sure. Does it matter what brand?”

Customer: “I don’t think she’d care. What lengths do you have?”

Me: “Two inches, three inches, and five inches are the regular lengths. We also have seven inches, but those are usually seen as too long.”

Customer: *flabbergasted* “Only seven inches?! She’ll look like a whore!”

Me: “Ma’am, five inches is quite enough cover. It’s about the same length as denim shorts. Seven inches goes a bit past the middle of the thighs.”

Customer: *getting angry* “It doesn’t matter! They’re too short and tight!”

Me: “No disrespect, ma’am, but have you considered signing your daughter up for a sport with a uniform that doesn’t include tight shorts? Like soccer, or basketball, maybe?”

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Complaining For The Devil Of It

| Australia | Right | July 18, 2014

(I am serving a customer who is buying shoes. She has come in with her daughter, no older than six. She is really nice to me until she spots a necklace I am wearing that my mother bought me for good luck. It is a moonstone with a pentagram above it, traditionally a pagan symbol for good luck before it was associated with Satanism.)

Customer: “ARE YOU A SATANIST?!”

Me: “… pardon??”

Customer: “You’re wearing a satanic symbol around your neck! You’re a Satanist! How can you wear that and be hired here?”

(The customers daughter looks very shocked and looks at me worryingly, mostly startled by what her mother had just said.)

Me: “I’m sorry, I’m not. This necklace was a gift from my mother. The symbol was originally pagan as a symbol of good luck and other nice things. It later got associated with Satanism, although it really isn’t anything to do with Satanism at all. I am no Satanist. I did not mean to startle you.”

Customer’s Daughter: *smiles and looks relieved* “It’s very pretty.”

Customer: *huffs and glares at me* “Well, it traumatises children! You should never wear that filth to work!”

(The customer stormed out of the store, fuming, dragging her confused daughter along with her. I chose to keep wearing the necklace every day as she was the only customer who had a problem with it.)

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Even Jack Reacher Can’t Fix This One

| Canberra, ACT, Australia | Right | July 18, 2014

(Two women, talking extremely loud, walk in. I let them browse and keep on with fixing a display because it’s a mess. Suddenly one starts yelling:)

Customer: “IS LEE CHILD DEAD?!”

(I realise that she’s screaming at me… from the other side of the shop.)

Me: “Excuse me?”

Customer: *with a great deal of attitude* “I SAID… IS LEE CHILD DEAD? WHY AREN’T YOU LISTENING TO ME?!”

Me: “I apologise, ma’am. Usually people walk over to me, or say hello first, when they have a request or a question.”

Customer: “Well, I was too busy talking to my friend! YOU should have been eavesdropping on our conversation!”

Me: “So I could butt in and tell you about Lee Child?”

Customer: “No! How DARE you?! I come in here to relax, not to be bothered by know-it-all shop people!”

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