Only Does Right By Her

| Surrey, BC, Canada | Romantic | February 3, 2015

(My coworker and I are having a little argument. Nothing serious, just a very minor disagreement. My coworker is female, while I am male.)

Customer: “Those two must be newlyweds, because he still thinks he’s right!”

The Customer Is Damaged

| Canberra, ACT, Australia | Right | January 31, 2015

(I notice that a customer has been hovering in the back corner of my store for a while, so I go see if she needs any help.)

Me: “Hi there! Can I help you at all today?”

Customer: “Oh, yes, I… Uh… Found this handbag. It’s… damaged and I want a… discount on it. It’s torn in this corner here… One moment…”

(As she is saying this, I see her trying to forcibly tear a corner of the handbag, which otherwise has no damage. It is already heavily reduced to 80% off, as it’s on clearance, and does not cost much at all. She is forcibly trying to tear it right in front of me with as much force as she can muster.)

Me: *snatches the bag from her* “Well, ma’am, if you forcibly tug on it, it will break, and there won’t be a further discount, and you will have to buy it. People who deliberately break stock are also not welcome back, I’m afraid.”

Customer: “Oh… Oh, well, then… Never mind.”

(She slowly and sadly walked out of the store, as if to see if I would change my mind and let her break it and give her a discount. I didn’t. I, thankfully, never saw her again.)

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Needs An Application Of Listening

| USA | Working | January 31, 2015

(I’m at a large department store fairly early in the day. My items are a little more expensive than I would like, but they offer a 20% discount if you sign up for a card. There’s only one cashier at the station I’m at, but two registers.)

Manager: *passing by* “Hey, [Cashier], when you’re done with this customer, we need you at the front.”

(The cashier looks extremely reluctant, but nods.)

Cashier: “All right. As soon as I’m finished.” *turns to me* “It’s just going to take a few minutes more to finish signing you up for the card.”

(At this point I’ve looked up the bus schedule on my very slow phone and realized I have ten minutes to get to the bus.)

Me: “Actually, I kind of need to go. Could you cancel the card?”

Cashier: “Oh, I’ve already run your credit card. With [Store Card] linked up to your bank account, your life will be a lot easier!”

Me: “That’s great, but I’m running a little late.”

Cashier: “This will only take a few more minutes. Can I have your bank account number?”

Me: “What? No. I don’t want the card. I need to go.”

Cashier: “It looks like there’s a problem. Hold on, let me call them.”

Me: “Call who?”

Cashier: “Sometimes we need to call them, sometimes we don’t. I think it depends on how busy it is. It’s not very busy now.”

(I can see a line forming at the front station, which is clearly understaffed. A few other customers have wandered over and are waiting in line behind me.)

Me: “Actually, it looks like it’s getting a little busy. Can I get the card later?”

Cashier: *shushing me* “I’m on the phone.”

(She talks for a few more minutes, while I try to find another employee to flag down so I can get my items and leave. Suddenly, she holds out the phone to me.)

Cashier: “They want to talk to you.”

(Reluctantly, I take the phone.)

Me: “Hello?”

Caller: “Hello, ma’am, I just wanted to confirm your application for the [Store Card]. You put down your income as [amount]; you do know this is yearly and not monthly, right?”

(At this point I am a little annoyed; I don’t make a whole lot of money, and I’m buying clothes for a job interview right now.)

Me: “Yes, but I actually don’t want the card.”

Caller: “You don’t want the card? Then why did you call?”

Me: “I didn’t. The cashier did. Can you cancel my card application, please?”

Caller: “Of course, ma’am, but I just thought you should know that with [Store Card], you can get—”

Me: *finally losing patience* “Great, thank you for cancelling the card application. Goodbye.”

(I reach over and hang up the phone before the cashier can get to it again.)

Cashier: “What happened?”

Me: “I don’t want a store card. Did you pay for these items when I handed you my credit card, or should I give it back to you?”

Cashier: “I’ll take it now. I’m very sorry about the wait. Sometimes they’re just so slow!”

(She finally processes my payment. By this point, the line at front has dissipated a bit, so she turns to help the people who were behind me. Another cashier also steps up to help. I’m walking away, mentally writing it off as her having an off day, when I hear her talking to the other employee.)

Cashier: “Oh, no, honey, that’s not how you do it. You must be new. Here, let me get this gentleman’s purchases, and you can watch me.” *to the other customer* “Would you like to sign up for a [Store Card] with us today?”

Her Argument Is Far From Seamless

| Woking, England, UK | Right | January 30, 2015

(I work in a fairly high-end ladies fashion concession in a department store. My manager and I are standing, waiting to greet customers. A middle aged woman storms up to us, trailing her husband behind her. She brings a dress over to us, which to me looks to be a size too small for her.)

Customer: “I’ve just tried this dress on, and it has a big rip in the seam. I have decided to buy it so you will need to find me another.”

Me: “I’m so sorry about that, Madam. I’m afraid we only carry one of every size. There are a couple of options. We can see if we can order one in for you, which will arrive in our next delivery; we can ring another store to see if they have one available for you; or you can order it yourself on the website, if you would rather it was delivered to your house.”

Customer: “Order one in for me. I want you to guarantee it will arrive tomorrow.”

Me: “I’m very sorry, but I can’t promise you that. It will most likely take a few days, depending on when our delivery is due.”

Customer: “This is ridiculous. This is all your fault for not checking your products correctly.”

Me: *even though I suspect the rip occurred in the fitting room* “Again, I’m very sorry that this one slipped through our net. I suspect the fault occurred after our initial checks. I’ll take this one off the shop floor and report the fault to the manufacturers.”

(I go to take the dress from her, but she snatches it back.)

Customer: “What’s the best price you can give this to me for?”

Me: “We can only take 10% off, and the item will be non-refundable.”

Customer: “It’ll cost more than that to fix it. Take the cost of fixing it off.”

Me: “I’m sorry; I’m not able to do that. Please let me see if another store has a fault-free one for you. Where is local to you?”

Customer: “Here.”

Me: “Well, yes… I meant where else is local to you. As you can see, we don’t have one here.”

(At this point, my manager steps in and goes to ring around local stores. I am left with the couple. The husband then joins in.)

Customer’s Husband: *to his wife* “Look, I’m fed up of waiting here. It’s already 20% off, and the girl is offering you 10% off. Let’s just get it.”

Customer: “Ah ha! I’ve found a thread in the lining and one at the top of the zip, that’s two more 10% discounts!”

Me: “I cannot give you 10% off per fault. That’s not how it works!”

(The customer rants on and on about how poorly made our items are. My manager returns, and tells the woman that a large store about 10 minutes drive away has two of those dresses and that we’ve put both on hold for her so she can check both and choose the better one, that they have both been checked for faults, and they will still give her 10% off.)

Customer’s Husband: “I can’t stand it anymore; we will go to the other store, pick the dress up, and go home.”

(I give the couple directions to the store, apologise again. and the couple leave, with the woman loudly ranting to anyone who will listen that our products are poor. We ended up spending around 45 minutes of our time on this rude lady, and what’s even worse? When she got to the other store, she filed a complaint about us saying that we were standing about looking bored, ignored her, refused to help her, and ‘eventually’ fobbed her off on another store.)

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The Paint Is In Aisle Five; Prepare To Die

| TX, USA | Right | January 29, 2015

(My 20-year-old son goes to a craft store with me. He has long hair, pulled back in a ponytail, slightly ratty jeans, and an oversized t-shirt with a small name-tag which says ‘hello my name is Inigo Montoya.’)

Random Customer: *approaches my son* “Where are the buttons?”

(My son turns at looks at me, with a ‘help me’ expression. I walk over.)

Me: “The buttons are over that way.”

(My son and I look at each other and laugh. We then go to a second craft store.)

Other Random Customer: *approaches my son* “Where is the paint?”

(Again I was able to point the woman in the right direction. My son vowed never again to shop while wearing that shirt.)

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