Bridezilla Puts The Stress Into Seamstress

, , , | Right | September 24, 2019

(The phone begins ringing.)

Me: “Thanks for calling your local [Craft Store]. How may I direct your call?”

Customer: “I’d like to talk to your wedding dress seamstress, please.”

Me: “I’m sorry, you must’ve dialed the wrong number. This is a craft store; perhaps you’re looking for the wedding store in the same complex?”

Customer: “No, this is [Craft Store], right?”

Me: “Yes…”

Customer: “I demand to talk to your seamstress! I’m a paying customer like anyone else! I deserve a fitting!”

Me: “Ma’am, we have one small wedding aisle, no dresses. The closest thing we have to a seamstress is a floral designer. I don’t think we can help you.”

Customer: “Put on the floral designer; I’m sure she can help me.”

(I comply and let our designer take the phone call. Her eyes get wider.)

Designer: “I definitely can’t do that.”

(There is audible screaming on the other side. The designer hangs up the phone, shakes her head, and says:)

Designer: “I wish it was the first time.”

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Unfiltered Story #167655

, , , | Unfiltered | September 23, 2019

(I work at an extremely popular clothing and accessory store. It’s about 10 minutes until we close)
Customer: *storms in angrily, stops in front of me and folds her arms* “I’m here for my hat.”

Me: “Alright! Which hat? Do you have it on hold?”

Customer: “Why would I have it on hold?? I just want my hat!”

Me: “Okay, which color is it?”

Customer: “The black one.”

Me: “The floppy one, like my coworker is wearing?”

Customer: “Thats the one. Now give me my hat!!”

(I ask everyone in the walkie if they’ve seen any recently, but we sold out weeks before.)

Me: “I’m sorry, but I believe we’ve sold out of that one. We do have a burgundy one that is the same except for the color.”

Customer: “You sold out?? Why didn’t you tell me? You should’ve let me know before I came all the way down here! Well, fine. Show me THAT burgundy one.”

(she points to the one on the tallest shelf, I need to get the tallest ladder we have for it. I go to get the ladder, but when I come back she has one in her hands that was on the shelf.)

Me: “That one looks great on you!”

Customer: “No it doesn’t. The black one would. I still don’t know why you didn’t tell me before I came. Call (other store) see if they have it.”

(I call, and as I thought, they don’t have it. I ask her if she wants to go a shorter distance to another store)

Customer: *biggest eye roll I’ve ever seen* “I am NOT going THERE. It is TOO FAR. I don’t know WHY YOU would even SUGGEST SUCH A THING. Still don’t know why you didn’t tell me.”

(By this time we were definitely closed. She ended up staying about 15 minutes after close, which we desperately need every minute.)

If Only They Could All Talk That Way

, , , , , , | Right | September 19, 2019

(A woman is shouting at the worker behind the service desk at my local grocery store. I come up partway through her rant, but from what I gather, her ice cream and other groceries melted when she left them in her car while running errands. It being a hot summer day, it seems that her groceries getting warm came as a complete shock to this poor woman, and that she is incensed at the grocery store not somehow keeping them cold until she got home. The man behind the counter is an older gentleman who has been trying to console her, but as she continues shouting over him, his face slowly loses expression. After a bit, he lifts one hand in the air, and then slowly begins lowering it in quick, jerky increments. This startles the woman out of her diatribe.)

Customer: “What the h*** are you doing?!”

Worker: *glancing over at his hand and faking shock* “Oh, this? This is my ‘caring about your bulls***’ meter. As you can see, it’s getting rather low.”

(The woman gapes at him for a bit.)

Customer: “You… That… You can’t…”

Worker: “Can’t what? Put up with any more of your bulls***? Yeah, I can’t.” *shrugs* “I’m gonna retire at the end of the year, so I just can’t give a d*** about you being an idiot.”

Customer: “I- I- I’m gonna call your bosses. You can’t talk to customers this way!”

Worker: “Mmhmm. You go do that. Tell them my name’s [Worker]. Did you get that? [Worker].” *continues to shout after her as she storms out* “That’s [Worker] with a [letter]. You want me to spell it for you?”

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Slapping Some Sense Into Them

, , , , , , | Working | September 17, 2019

(Before our shift starts, we always have a thirty-minute meeting to make any announcements and do training. I’m sitting in front of a coworker who I know pretty well, since we do both of our weekly volunteer days together. As the supervisor’s making an announcement, she slaps me on the back of the neck.)

Coworker: “What did he say?”

Me: “He just explained the changes they’re making to the schedule. He’s handing out the new schedule at the end of the meeting.”

(A minute later, she slaps me again.)

Coworker: “But if we have a new schedule, when will it go into effect?”

Me: “He just said next week. If you listen, you’ll find all of this out.”

(Another minute later, someone else mentions an upcoming event that we can mention to tourists. I get slapped a third time, this time so she can ask if tickets are still available for the event. All of this is information that she could get if she just stopped smacking me and listened to the announcements. After the meeting…)

Me: “If you have questions, ask the people making the announcements. I don’t like being smacked every time you’re not paying attention.”

(She looks suddenly very sympathetic.)

Coworker: “I forgot. You don’t like being touched.”

Me: “Touching is fine. Slapping me to get my attention isn’t.”

Coworker: “Because you’re autistic.”

Me: *baffled* “I’ve never been autistic, but if I were, why would that be the only reason that I don’t like being slapped?”

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, , , , , | Friendly | August 31, 2019

(I am in the waiting room at a local dog groomer. A lady walks in and her eyes light up.)

Lady: Oh, wowww! Your dog is huge! What kind of dog is he?!”

Me: She is a Great Dane.”

Lady: “Oh! Is that like the dog on the Greyhound buses?”

Me: “No, that would be a greyhound.”

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