A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, I was the assistant to the retail manager of a swimming pool store. We sold, as you might guess, swimming pools and swimming pool supplies. Anyone that has the misfortune of owning a pool or working in the industry knows that pool chemicals are a big part of pool maintenance and sales, and every shop has its own line of products and they are always better than every other shop’s line of products, despite it really all being the same stuff.

One day, I was manning the store on the closing shift. It was toward the end of the season and things had slowed down that evening. A few minutes before closing time, I get a customer.

Customer: “Oh, good! You’re still open!”

I internally roll my eyes. We all know that line. It’s five minutes before quitting time, but I put on my best customer service smile.

Me: “How can I help you?”

Customer: “I’d like to return these chemicals.”

Me: “Hmm, okay. It’s actually store policy that we cannot accept returns on chemicals.”

This was true; there were signs up everywhere and it was written on receipts, as well. Customers in the past would purchase chemicals, use them, and then return them after filling them with water or other substitute materials. We had stopped accepting returns years and years ago.

Customer: “Oh… Well, can you make an exception? My pool just fell down and I don’t have any use for them now. I’m just trying to recoup my losses.”

I was feeling sorry for her like the sucker I was.

Me: “Okay… Do you have your receipt?”

Customer: “No.”

Me: “Well, let me see what you have.”

She plops several canisters of various pool chemicals on the table

Me: “These… are all open. And half-used. And they aren’t my brand of chemicals. You didn’t even buy them from me!”

Customer: “Can you give me anything for them?”

I fought the urge to get rude.

Me: “Sorry, can’t help you.”

This must have been ten years ago. I’ve moved on to a different industry and thankfully blocked out many of the painful memories of that awful job, but I’ll never forget the audacity of that customer, trying to return half-used chemicals that she didn’t even buy from me!

The store I work in has a paid membership option that gave members discounts on various items. There are signs everywhere saying, “Members get 10-20% off every day on regular-priced items,” to encourage people to join.

One day, a woman finds an item in the clearance section that’s been marked down from $26 to $5. She brings it to the register to pay.

Customer: “I signed up for a membership. I want the extra percentage off!”

Me: “Ma’am, the membership discount is for regular-priced items only.”

Of course, this sign is also posted in the clearance section because it’s EVERYWHERE in the store.

Customer: “This is false advertising! The sign in the clearance section said ten to twenty percent off for members!”

Eventually, even with the store manager arguing it, the customer finally got the discount as a “one-time exception” just to shut her up. Immediately, the signs were taken out of the clearance section.

Client: “I don’t want it to look like the conventional websites in this sector. I want something completely different and crazy.”

Me: “Okay, sounds great. Have you got any specific ideas in mind?”

Client: “I want the home page to be an illustration of a half-robot, half-skeleton woman wearing a metal bra, and it has to be sexy.”

Me: “Um, that sounds pretty cool, but I don’t see how that conveys to people that you sell hair care supplies.”

Client: “Give her scissors for hands or something. I don’t know. That’s your job.”

I oversee several stores in one company, often traveling from one location to another. Two employees at [Store #1] were dating when the boyfriend applied for a managerial position at both [Store #1] and [Store #2] about five miles away. I offered him the position at [Store #2], explaining that he could be a manager there, but he could not do it here at [Store #1] while dating a coworker. He took the job at [Store #2] without hesitation. His girlfriend was at my store for another few weeks before she put in for a transfer with him.

Me: “I’m sorry, but we cannot transfer you. If we do that, [Boyfriend] would be your boss, and that is a conflict of interest.”

Girlfriend: “But we want to work together.”

Me: “I understand how you feel, but we cannot do that. It’s a favoritism concern.”

Girlfriend: *Crossing her arms* “Look, you can transfer me or I quit. Those are literally your options.”

Me: *Nodding* “Okay, well, you can leave your ID badge with me.”

Girlfriend: “What?”

Me: “I’m not transferring you.”

Girlfriend: “Are you serious?”

Me: “I am.”

Girlfriend: “You’re a crusty p***y sucking b****.”

[Girlfriend] stormed out, leaving her badge. I laughed, filing her insult away for my own entertainment later on.

It was only a few days before I saw her application for [Store #2] come through our system. She used a gender-neutral nickname for her application, refused to provide a gender identity, and completely omitted her job with us from her application. Had I not recognized the phone number, I probably would have missed it completely.

I had Human Resources call and schedule an interview and be sure not to tell her I would be there. When she walked in, I smiled and motioned for her to take a seat. She turned bright red and walked right back out. I was a little disappointed; I really wanted to ask if she was calling ME crusty or what she accused me of sucking on. Sadly, I will never know.

When I was in high school, I worked at a pool store selling pools, spas, and chemicals. It was owned by a married couple that, to put it nicely, needed couples therapy. They would fight frequently and both had a temper.

One day, they were both at the store in the back warehouse screaming at one another about something or other. In walked a regular customer. This was one of the customers that would come in from time to time just to talk to one of the owners, and not about actual pool-related topics.

I greeted the regular with the usual spiel.

Me: “Hello, how are you today?”

Regular: “I need to talk to [Owner].”

I was kind of panicking, and I resorted to the classic telemarketer-on-the-phone lie.

Me: “I’m sorry, but [Owner] isn’t here right now.”

Regular: “I know he’s here; his truck is out front.”

Now I figured there was no other way of handling this with grace. I put my finger up to my mouth in a shushing motion.

Regular: “What do you mean?”

I kept my finger to my mouth and actually verbally said, “Shuuuush.” The regular customer stopped talking for a moment and heard them screaming at each other from the back warehouse.

Regular: “Oh.”

Me: *Lowering my finger* “Yeah. You’re welcome to go interrupt them if you like, but I’m not paid enough for that.” *Shrugs and chuckles awkwardly*

Regular: “I think I’ll just come back later.”

Me: “Sounds good!”