Don’t Try To Reason With The Losers

, , , , | Right | June 26, 2018

(I work as a customer service rep for a pretty popular dry cleaning company. I get a lot of wealthier customers at my store, and they tend to come in waves. We have a drive-thru with a sliding glass door, and a walk-in counter. I am, luckily, with my manager and her lead, which means three of our store’s four employees are there. This day, a lady has driven in and is trying to pick up clothes she never actually dropped off. All three of us are looking for any clothes that could be hers mixed in with other orders. There’s a line forming behind her, but no one’s walked in yet. An older, snobby lady behind her speaks up.)

Lady #2: *rolls her window down* “EXCUSE ME!”

Me: *runs out our front door to help her* “Hi! I—”

Lady #2: “What the h*** is taking so d*** long?!”

Me: “I’m so sorry, ma’am; we’re just having a few snags with this customer. I can he—”

Lady #2: “MY NAME IS [LADY #2], AND I DEMAND THAT YOU SERVE ME NOW!”

Me: *managing not to flinch* “Of course! Just a pickup, then?”

Lady #2: “Yes! Four pairs of pants!”

Me: “Right away!” *runs in and rings her up, coming out with her total*

Lady #2: “I’m giving you exact change so you don’t waste my time trying to figure it out!” *takes three minutes trying to count it out, shoving it roughly into my hands, grumbling loudly*

Me: “Thank you!” *runs back into the store and gets her pants, hanging them up*

Lady #2: “Doesn’t this b**** realize she’s holding me up?!”

Me: *does the bad thing and tries to reason with her* “Well, we do end to get backed up with the window; that’s why we have the walk-in counter. It’s also a lot cooler than sitting in a hot car!” *smile*

Lady #2: “EXCUSE ME?! THAT IS WHAT THIS WINDOW IS FOR: PEOPLE IN A HURRY!”

Me: “I’m very sorry, ma’am, I hope your day is better.”

Lady #2: “Yeah? I HOPE YOURS ISN’T! IT’S CALLED CUSTOMER SERVICE! I AM REPORTING YOU TO YOUR BOSS!” *begins to speed away, nearly running over my foot* “THEY SHOULDN’T HAVE HIRED YOU, ANYWAY, YOU FAT, B****Y [LESBIAN SLUR]!”

(My hair is very short, and my mother has yelled at me for getting it cut “like a butch,” and I’m overweight. Normally, I’m very thick-skinned, but this is just getting to me.)

Next Customer: *pulls up* “Well, that was bracing! You okay, sweetheart?”

Me: *nods shakily*

Next Customer: “Well, I think you’re doing great! You’ve always been so nice to me and my wife! That lady was an idiot not to see how beautiful you are, too!”

Me: *trying so hard to keep the tears back* “Thank you, sir. How can I help you?”

Next Customer: “Just dropping off, and don’t worry about the wait. If I was in a hurry, I’d have walked in! Take care now!” *drives off much more carefully*

(Luckily, I had finished my shift. I clocked out and went to my car, and cried for a solid five minutes. The lady never reported me, and when she returned a week later, she apparently didn’t even recognize me, though she complained a bit about “that fat lesbian” that treated her poorly on her last visit. I informed her that it was me, and she got really pale and sped away.)

Trying In Vein

, , , , , | Healthy | June 19, 2018

(My mom has notoriously small veins, which I have inherited. This happens while I’m getting my blood drawn. My dad is there with me.)

Nurse: *seems to be having trouble finding a vein, tries looking in many different places* “Okay, I think we’re going to end up taking from your hand rather than your arm, because that might be the only place that it will work.”

Dad: “[My Name], do you have really small veins like Mom?”

Nurse: “No, she doesn’t have any veins at all!”

Stupidity That Nets Out

, , , , | Right | June 16, 2018

(I am the stupid customer in this story.)

Cashier: “Okay, your change is 96 cents.”

Me: “Wait, if I give you a dollar, will you give me a dollar back?”

Cashier: “…”

Me: *turning red after sudden realization* “Oh, my God, never mind. Ignore me.”

Cashier: *laughs* “It’s okay. I thought that was supposed to be a trick question.”

Third Time Afortunado

, , , , , , , | Working | June 12, 2018

(I am working in a department store around the holidays. In the days leading to Christmas, we are slammed with customers every day. Although my name is uncommon, I somehow end up working with two other girls who have the same name. I work registers, one works stock in the back, and another is a shift manager, and we all look very different from each other. I’m checking out customers when my coworker tugs my shoulder.)

Coworker: “Hey, can you help me with something?”

Me: “Sure, what’s up?”

Coworker: *gestures towards customers in front of her* “Can you explain the return policy to them?”

Me: “Why? You’ve been here longer than me.”

Coworker: “But I don’t speak Spanish.”

(I’m Native American, so it’s a pet peeve of mine when people assume I’m Mexican because it leads to other insults. So, naturally, I get offended.)

Me: “And what? Because I have dark skin, I must speak Spanish?”

Coworker: “What? No!” [Store Manager]—” *who is not working that day* “—told me you spoke Spanish.”

Me: “No. I don’t. Are you sure you have the right [My Name]?”

Coworker: “Hmm.” *speaks into walkie* “Hey, [Assistant Manager], which [My Name] speaks Spanish?”

Assistant Manager: “Uh… Honestly, I don’t know. Page [My Name #2] up. She’s on the floor right now.”

(We page [My Name #2] to come to the register.)

My Name #2: “What’s up?”

Coworker: “Do you speak Spanish?”

My Name #2: “No. Why? Who told you that?”

(It turns out that the store manager told the other managers that [My Name] could speak Spanish, but failed to mention which of the three could. Of course, it ended up being the one who worked stock in the back and didn’t have a walkie.)

Wish You Could Restore Customers To Factory Settings

, , , , | Right | June 11, 2018

(I work in the bakery department of a grocery store. To meet with supply and demand, all of our dough is made at a factory and sent to us. I often have to explain to customers that we are not a scratch bakery. This customer just isn’t getting it.)

Customer: “Can you make me a bread without [ingredient]?”

Me: “I’m sorry, but the dough comes to us from a factory.”

Customer: “Tell the people in the back that I want one special.”

Me: “All of our dough is made in a factory and shipped to us.”

Customer: “Can you contact them and tell them that there’s a customer who wants one that’s specially made?”

Me: “I can’t. The dough is made in a factory.”

Customer: “No. Just tell them that I want one that doesn’t have [certain ingredient].”

Me: “They are not able to do that.”

Customer: “Call them and tell them that I want one specially made.”

Me: “It’s made in a big container in a factory. Not by hand. All of our dough is made in a big factory.”

Customer: “Oh, it’s made in a factory. Never mind.”

(Face, meet palm. Palm, meet face.)

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