(I take inbound calls for a national cell phone company in customer service.)
Me: “Thank you for calling [Company]. My name is [My Name]. How can I help you today?”
Customer: “F*** YOU!”
Me: “Hi, Mr. F*** You, how can I assist you today?”
Customer: *click*
When I was eight years old, my older sister’s school had an anti-drug campaign. She came home from school one day and lectured me to never, ever take drugs. I looked up to my sister, so I solemnly promised her I wouldn’t.
About a week later, my dad took me to the dentist to get some baby teeth pulled. I was alone in the room with the dentist while my dad was in the waiting room. The dentist told me he was giving me some analgesia. I asked what that meant, and he explained that it was a drug that would make me not feel any pain.
I told him, “No, no drugs,” and refused to let him near me with the analgesia. For some reason, he did not go out to the waiting room to confer with my dad. Instead, he went ahead and pulled three teeth from an eight-year-old girl without using analgesia or any pain relief.
After a few minutes of him pulling my teeth, the burglar alarm went off in the clinic. There was no break-in, though. Apparently, my screams of pain perfectly mimicked the sound of breaking glass, fooling the alarm system. We never went back to that clinic.
I worked at a popular fast food place for two years. One day, I was “asked” to come in on my day off and, not owning a car, biked twenty minutes there in the rain. Not even an hour after I got there, the rain turned into a storm. Wind knocked over a street lamp and it landed on the nearby power-lines, cutting the power to the entire side of the freeway our store was on. The backup generator only keeps the main register and freezer running; everything else, such as the second register, fry station, and meat slicer, were all shut down.
We had to put all of the cold stuff into the freezer and apologize to any customers who walked in, as we couldn’t make any food.
My boss got on the phone with the power company and learned it would take a while for someone to get out to fix the lines, so he sent three of us home, leaving just him and one other manager.
I had just arrived home, soaking wet, when I got a text from the manager saying that someone was already there to fix the lines, and the boss wanted me to come back before the dinner rush began.
I told her no.
(I manage an ice cream store. This started happening on a weekend morning when I am the only one in the store, right after we open, before there is any significant amount of change in the till.)
Customer: “I’d like a scoop of [flavor] on a sugar cone.”
Me: “That will be $1.49.”
(The customer hands me a hundred-dollar bill.)
Me: “Do you have anything smaller? I just opened and I don’t have much change yet.”
Customer: “No, I’m sorry. Is there any way you can make this work?”
Me: “Hold on. Let me try.”
(I dig through the till and the change bag in the office until I find enough change, largely in ones, to give her back what I owe her. I then count it back the old-fashioned way: twice to myself, and then once to her.)
Customer: “Thanks!” *goes out to the car, and then came back inside* “I’m short $5.”
Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, I don’t think that’s possible. Do you mind if I count it again?”
(She lets me count it, and sure enough, it is $5 short.)
Me: “Oh my, I’m sorry, let me get your $5.”
(She leaves, and I chalk it up to an early morning and too many ones in the pile. The next day she comes back in, orders another single on a cone, and pays with another hundred. I, again, try my best to get her change, count it four or five times, and send her on her way. She, AGAIN, says it is short: $10 this time. I counts it again, and it is… so I give her the $10 and let her go. Two days later, SHE COMES BACK IN.)
Customer: “I’d like another scoop of [flavour] on a sugar cone, please.”
Me: “Sure, but first I need to make sure you have correct payment.”
Customer: “Excuse me?”
Me: “Well, over the past three days, my drawer has come up short twice. Saturday it was $5 short, and Sunday it was $10 short. I’m no longer accepting bills over $20 until after two pm, in an effort to make sure that nobody gets shorted: us or the customer. What will you be paying with today?”
Customer: “Well, all I have is this hundred.”
Me: “Unfortunately, I cannot accept that.”
Customer: “That’s ridiculous; I’ve been using them all weekend!”
Me: “I’m sorry.”
(She left. I still can’t imagine why someone who walks around with hundreds in their pockets would need to lift $15, but I do know that she was stealing from me. After she tried it with a few more employees, I had to call the police and have her banned from the store.)
A couple years ago, I got some car insurance quotes online. As usual, I received follow-up calls from most of those insurers trying to get me to actually purchase from them. I let them all go to voicemail since I didn’t want to deal with them, and they all gave up within a week.
All except one, that is. This guy called me every weekday and Saturday for six months and left a minute-long message every time. It clearly wasn’t a robo-call because the messages were not the same; the same basic spiel, but with enough changes in tempo and word choice that it had to be a human.
Yes, I could have answered him one time and just told him I wasn’t interested, but after a couple of weeks I was curious how long he would keep it up. I don’t know if this level of persistence was corporate policy, a manager’s instructions, or the salesman just not using his time wisely, but in any case, he wasted over two and a half hours of company time on a potential customer who clearly wasn’t going to respond positively.
