(I work in a shoe shop. A customer enters and asks to see slippers for her mother. I fetch a few in the required size for the customer to look at.)
Customer: *holding slipper* “So, you just put your foot in it?”
Me: *pause* “Yes.”
(Times like this make me thankful I have a good brain-mouth filter. The other answers that popped into my head were far more flippant.)
I currently work as a service writer at a car dealership, but my original background is hands-on; though I’m now tied to a desk, I am an ASE Master Certified Technician — among other professional certifications I maintain — and have been working on cars — first as a hobby, then in a vocational program, and then professionally — for almost twenty years. I am also a woman and am often mistaken for being younger than my age.
Many of my customers, especially “old-school” car guys, don’t expect me to be so knowledgeable. While most of them are delighted when I can not only keep up with them but teach them new things, a few just can’t quite grasp the idea of a female being technically capable, no matter how many times we’ve interacted.
One customer in particular is the type that thinks he’s very knowledgeable; he has literally said to me multiple times, “Well, I happen to know quite a bit about cars.” From what I’ve heard, his knowledge is both limited and mostly twisted by misunderstanding. He often tries to second-guess me while still asking for advice but trying to sound like he knows what he’s talking about.
Since our first interaction I have thought he’s not nearly as sharp as he thinks he is, but I try to give him the benefit of the doubt due what I choose to tell myself is our personality clash; that’s a nicer way to sort it in my brain than, “He’s a sexist jerk who squirms every time he has to come to me.”
I felt completely vindicated when one day he has to call me to ask me, of all things, how to open the hood of his car. The answer: pull the bright red lever with the silhouette of a car with the hood popped that’s right by the driver’s left knee. He has owned the same car for about a year. Anyone who “happens to know quite a bit about cars” should be able to figure out how to open their own hood after a year, without having to make a phone call to ask.
(I work in a bar and restaurant chain with a pretty diverse menu. We have many meals that are listed twice — one normal that comes with fries, or a “skinny” option with salad, instead. This happens far too often.)
Customer: “I’d like a skinny chicken burger, please.”
Me: “That’s the burger and salad, right?”
Customer: “Yeah, the skinny chicken burger.”
(Transaction completed, we deliver the food.)
Customer: “Where are my fries?!”
Me: “Would you like your receipt emailed, printed, or both today?”
Customer: “Emailed, please.”
Me: “Absolutely. What is your email address?”
Customer: “I don’t want to give you my email.”
Me: *confused* “So, would you just like you receipt printed, then?”
Customer: *visibly annoyed* “Uh, I guess so, yeah.”
Related:
Email Fail, Part 20
Email Fail, Part 19
Email Fail, Part 18
Every week we have specials on certain items. One particular item, normally 35¢, was discounted to a lower price and shown in the ad as “4 for $1.00.” A customer went to a register with four of the item and the cashier was ringing them up.
A minute later she called for the manager over the walkie-talkie system, “These items are supposed to be four for a dollar, but they’re ringing up at 25¢ each!” It was the first time I heard five different employees laugh in five different parts of the store at the same time.
