(I am having a particularly rough day in general. An elderly customer comes in and asks for a bouquet and some fillers, and I check him out.)
Customer: “Oh, ma’am, can I ask you for one more favor?”
Me: “Sure, what would you like?”
Customer: “Please have a good day.”
Me: “Okay…”
Customer: “You promise me?”
Me: “Yeah, I do!”
(I did my best to keep my promise that day!)
(I’m a computer programmer, but I’ve been practicing UFC martial arts since I was in high school. After more than a decade of training, there are certain things you do instinctively when under attack. Our most recent client is a smarmy dude who seems to think he can do whatever he wants because he’s paying us for a program. It should also be noted that I am female.)
Client: “Wow. That’s a nice piece of a** you’ve got there.”
Me: “Yes, all the better to sit on while coding. Do you mind?”
Client: “Oh, okay.”
(The client then whips my chair around and pulls me out of it, grabbing me and pulling me close to him. He probably shouldn’t have done that. My head ducks, my knees bend, and my arms go into fighting stance. Before he can say or do anything else, I’ve grabbed him, kneed him in the solar plexus, and thrown him rather painfully to the floor.)
Me: *angrily* “Don’t touch me!”
Client: *gasping* “What the f*** was that?!”
Boss: *coming around the corner* “Dude, you went after both the hottest and most dangerous woman in the office. You deserved it.”
(The client quit coming by the office after that.)
(I work at a store that is known for its customer service. I am working at the customer service counter and it is ten minutes before my very long shift is about to end. An elderly lady storms up to the counter carrying a statement for our store credit card.)
Me: “How can I help you? Do you have a payment?”
Customer: “I have a complaint. I paid this bill the day it was due and I was charged a late fee.”
Me: “Okay, I will tell you there isn’t anything that we can do in the store. We don’t have the power to change anything about your charge card. There should be a phone number on your statement that you can call. I understand that they are really good about taking care of these things.”
Customer: “I have never had this happen before, I have never paid a bill late, and if this does not get taken care of, I will never come back here again.”
Me: “I’m sorry for the inconvenience; I know this is very frustrating. Please call that number and let them know what happened. We have a phone down here that you can use if you would like.”
Customer: “I don’t want to call right now. I want to know why it happened and get the charge removed.”
Me: “May I see your statement? The phone number is right here and I see that you have a receipt from paying in the store. I don’t understand why it was late because it should have posted immediately.” *looks closer at the receipt and the statement* “Ma’am, I see here that your bill was due on the 22nd—”
Customer: “YES! I PAID IT THAT DAY AND THEY CHARGED ME A LATE FEE!”
Me: “Well, according to your receipt, you made the payment on the 25th.”
(The customer snatches paper out of my hands and glares at it.)
Me: “I would still call that number and see if anything can be done, especially since this is the first time this has happened.”
Customer: “I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS! I WILL BE TAKING MY BUSINESS ELSEWHERE IF THIS DOESN’T GET RESOLVED, AND I SPEND A LOT OF MONEY HERE!”
Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, I understand that it is frustrating. Please call that number as soon as possible and ask them if there is anything they can do. Is there anything else I can do for you today?”
Customer: “I need to make this return.”
(I process the return quickly and credit her account. I have remained pleasant throughout the interaction, despite her attitude.)
Me: “Here is your receipt of the return. Again, I am sorry for the inconvenience with your payment. Have a nice day.”
Customer: *glares at me and leaves without saying anything*
Coworker: “You ready to go home?”
Me: “Yes, please.”
(I have recently been hired at a chain store in a small town. I’m manning the cash register on a very busy day. My current customer hands me a $10 bill to pay, and I pause to see if she starts digging for change.)
Me: “Out of ten?” *punches buttons on register*
Customer: “Yes.”
Me: *starts counting out change*
Customer: “Here.” *hands me a nickel*
(I’m not good at mental math, and this random nickel confuses me enough that I lose track of my counting.)
Customer: “You need to give me $3.02. I’m an accountant.”
(I try and fail to do the math in my head, partly because the customer keeps repeating that I owe her $3.02 because she’s an accountant. After several long seconds, I give up and pull out a pen and scrap paper.)
Customer: *in a very condescending tone* “I told you, I’m an accountant! I know this, and you owe me $3.02!”
Me: *finishes calculations* “Okay, ma’am, your change is $3.03. Have a good day.”
(The customer actually flounced out of the store in a huff. One cent isn’t much, but I admit to taking some small satisfaction in the accountant being wrong in her math.)
(I’ve just finished ringing up a woman who has otherwise been quiet.)
Me: “Okay, you’re all set. Thank you!”
Woman: “Thanks. Oh, do you know any nail salons run by white people?”
Me: “I… no?”
Woman: *shaking her head* “There’s one down the hall, but I don’t want my nails done by foreigners who believe in Buddha. Oh, well. Thanks, anyway!”
(Setting aside how shocked — and baffled — I was by her attitude, I have to wonder how she thought someone with uneven nails and chipped polish in mismatched colors would even know where a nail salon is outside the area they work in. When I told her about it, my manager said the only salon she knows of run by white people is in an extremely shady part of town.)
