I am locking the door at work when a woman comes rushing up.

Customer: “Oh, please let me in. I know exactly what I want: a box of those glasses.”

She points at them. Like an idiot, I let her in and go to get the glasses.

Customer: “Oh, hang on. I’m not sure if we want these or the ones next to them. Mummy will be here in a minute. Can I wait for her?”

Just then, Mummy appears, strolling along like she has all the time in the world.

Mummy dithers about the glasses, all the time telling us how grateful they are that we let them in.

Mummy: “We’re going to a wedding, and this is their present!”

Finally, they decide, and they want every glass in the box checked, and then they want to check them themselves. These are a cheap set of glasses, nothing to write home about. We check the glasses, get it all rung up, and finally, we’re done. All this has taken over twenty minutes, while all the rest of the staff have been going home, saying goodnight, and making it very obvious that these women are keeping us, and that the manager still has to count and close the till.

I put the box of glasses in a bag and say goodnight.

Mummy: “Could you gift-wrap them for me?”’

Me: “Not at this time of night, no!”

Exit embarrassed daughter and Mummy, who will “never shop here again!”

I work in what used to be a catalogue retailer, but recently the catalogues have been removed from the shop front and replaced with tablets that essentially run the website with a few bells and whistles. I’m getting fed up with people downright refusing to use them or learn how to use them even though they’re literally touchscreen tablets covered in instructions on what to do.

Yesterday a woman, maybe in her early thirties, came in and stood looking as clueless and flustered as possible to attract my attention.

Me: “What’s wrong, ma’am?”

Customer: “I want to buy a dinosaur toy but I have no idea what to do.”

I pointed to the screen that she was standing in front of.

Me: “Start by tapping this large box that says, ‘Tap here to start.’”

Customer: “How?”

Me: “With your finger.”

She tapped it, and a digital keyboard popped up with the text, “Type in what you’re looking for.”

Customer: “Now what?”

This wasn’t my first rodeo.

Me: “Use your finger to press the letters on the keyboard.”

Customer: “But what do I do?”

Me: “Type in ‘dinosaur toy’.”

Customer: “But I just want to buy one!”

Me: “Great. You just need to find one you like the look of.”

She started sighing and tutting like I was ruining her entire day. I backed off because she seemed to have realised how fingers work, but she called me back over with the song of her people:

Customer: “NOW WHAT?”

I literally read the screen word for word to her because, at that point, I was thinking maybe she couldn’t read.

Me: “Tap where it says, ‘Tap here to pay.’”

There was more huffing as she punched the screen with the tip of her finger. I read the screen again.

Me: “‘Tap the card reader with your card for contactless pay.'”

The woman pulled out her card.

Customer: “This is ridiculous. Can’t you just do it?”

In silence, I robotically took the card from her hand and moved it about ten inches to the reader before rotating on the spot to slide it back into her hand.

Customer: “The old way was much better.”

Then, she took her receipt and skipped off to collect her item at the counter.

I’d say this is weird, but it’s a daily occurrence. People ask for help because they don’t know what to do on the screen where it simply says, “Type in your name,” and it’s like reality has collapsed for them.

A few months ago, we started closing two hours early due to the winter weather. We had a customer come in two minutes to close.

Me: “Just to let you know, I am closing in two minutes.”

Customer: “I know. That’s why I thought I’d better get here now!”

He then spent fifteen or twenty minutes looking around.

I was in my early teens and on a school trip to Stockholm with my class. We had visited the museums and gone on the tour we were there for, so our teachers let us loose for an hour to shop for souvenirs before it was time to head back home to our small city in the countryside. This was in the early nineties and kids had a lot more freedom then than they have now.

My family didn’t have a lot of money when I was growing up, but I had saved up for months for this trip so I would be able to buy myself something special. I have always been interested in fashion, and there is a very well-known fancy department store in Stockholm that I was dying to visit. My friends and I spent some time walking through the different areas, ahh-ing and ooh-ing at all the things we couldn’t afford. 

I still wanted a souvenir from my visit, so we went to the accessories department where I picked out a beautiful scarf that was pretty pricey but still within my budget.  

There was a line to the register, and I took my place in it, clutching the scarf in one hand and my little wallet in the other, while feeling very grown-up and fancy. 

When it was my turn, the lady behind the counter looked at my fourteen-year-old self, my mail-order clothes, and my mended backpack, and instantly turned to the next person in line and started serving them instead.

Me: “I’m sorry, I think it was my turn. I would like to buy this scarf, please.”

Cashier: “Go put that back where you found it, kid. We’re very busy right now.”

Me: “But we have to meet our teacher in fifteen minutes. Can I just pay for this, please?”

Cashier: “So, you found something on the clearance rack and you just want the [Department Store] bag. I get it. You’ll have to wait your turn while I serve the real customers.”

I was close to tears, but I was too intimidated to stand up to an adult in a place where it had been made clear to me that I didn’t belong. I also really wanted the scarf, so I dutifully stood aside, waiting for the line to clear. 

Eventually, the last customer in the line had paid, and I stepped up to the counter again.

Cashier: “Are you still here? All right, put that scarf back and you can have a bag for two crowns.”

Me: “I would like to pay for the scarf, please. I don’t need a bag; I’ve got room in my backpack.”

We were late back to meet with our teacher, and while it was a beautiful scarf, I rarely wore it because every time I looked at it, it brought the entire humiliating experience up again. 

Now, as an adult, I can actually afford to shop at that department store, but I have never been back because of the way they treated me back then.

I work at a very popular grocery store that’s almost exclusively in Texas. I work in the curbside department where people get their orders shopped for them. I’m the main person on the phones. A call comes in and I answer.

Me: “Hi! [My Name] in curbside speaking; how can I help you?”

Caller: “Hi. I was calling because several items were either missing or spoiled. I called earlier, but I want to make sure my refund went through.”

Me: “All right! Let me check the refund book and I’ll let you know. Can I have your information?”

She gives me all the relevant information and I double-check everything.

Me: “All right, we have [various items] scheduled for a refund tonight. Does this sound right?”

She tells me a few more things are missing or messed up. I honestly don’t care because this happens every day, so I just record everything diligently and reaffirm it with her.

Caller: *After the confirmations* “Is it possible to pick up the garlic that was missing? I really need it.”

Me: “Of course! You can come whenever it is most convenient for you.”

Caller: “Well, there was also an item that they left off because it wasn’t ready at the time. Can I pick that up, as well?”

Me: “Hmm, well, we didn’t charge you for that item, so I’d have to check with my supervisor and make sure that’s okay.”

The only supervisor in the department is notorious for not really caring about customers, but he’s the highest authority in the department at the moment, so I ask him if it would be okay. He pretty much shuts me down and says that we can’t because she didn’t pay for it.

I reluctantly get back on the phone.

Me: “Unfortunately, my manager has told me we can’t provide that item as you weren’t charged for it.”

Cue the snarkiness and sarcasm.

Caller: “Wow. So, even though I’m being inconvenienced by having to drive back up there, you won’t provide this item for me?”

Me: “Uh, unfortunately, yes. The cost of the item far outweighs the cost of the garlic.”

Caller: “Well, I’m not asking for it for free! I have my card; you can just go inside and pay for me.”

Me: *Slightly panicked* “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I can’t take your credit card and make a purchase for you. You have to be physically present for that.”

Caller: “So, you’re telling me that if I want this item, I would have to pay the fee and wait four hours all over again?”

I am kind of confused because most people don’t have a problem with going in the store for any additional items they need.

Me: “Well, if you want us to deliver it through curbside, then yeah.”

Caller: “…”

Me: “…”

Caller: “Whatever. You have terrible customer service! I’ll be there to pick up my garlic. When will it be ready?”

Me: “It’ll be ready by the time you get here. Whenever is most convenient.”

Caller: “OH, SO YOU HAVE IT READY NOW? YOU’RE TELLING ME IT’S LITERALLY IN YOUR HANDS?”

Me: “No, but we’re located right next to the produce section, so it’ll take me about thirty seconds to grab it.”

Caller: “Whatever. It had better be ready when I get there.”

By the time the conversation was done, I was shaking in anger. I got her stupid garlic, only to be told she called back and said she no longer wanted it. THEN, she called our general manager and told them about my terrible customer service. Luckily, my supervisor was questioned about it and not me, but I was still pretty upset over the whole situation.