No Need To Be Anal About It

, , , , , , | Right | January 17, 2018

(I work at a clothing store that markets itself as a family-friendly store with clothes for the whole family. We have a t-shirt in the boy’s department that says “ANIMAL” on it three times, with different letters a lighter color than the rest on each line so that it spells out “I’M AN ANIMAL” within the words. We’ve had the shirt for some time, and it’s one of our popular ones. A man and his son, maybe nine years old, come to my register with this shirt. The man seems a bit agitated.)

Customer: “Hi, I need to return this shirt. I don’t know what kind of business you guys are running, but it has a swear word on it.”

Me: “You mean… ‘animal?’”

Customer: “No, just look at it. My poor son wore this to a party.”

(I stare at the shirt for a good thirty seconds and can’t see anything other than the word “animal.” The customer then points to the top line, where the “IM” in the middle of the word is a different color. I still don’t see anything. The customer then points to the “AN” and “AL” on either side.)

Me: Oh… ‘Anal.’ I never even noticed that was there; I think it’s honestly just supposed to say, ‘animal.’ I don’t think they meant to do that on purpose.”

Customer: “Of course they did. They do it so unsuspecting people will wear the shirt and the smarter people will see it and be subjected to that kind of language.”

Me: “Okay, then. Let’s just get that returned for you.”

(The boy seemed unphased by the whole event, as if his father’s rationale was totally normal and he fully believed it. Of course, this customer also didn’t have his receipt, and expected me to give him cash back for the full price of the shirt when it had gone on clearance, and our policy is store credit without a receipt. Overall, he was a fun customer to deal with.)

Those On Last Shift Get The Last Word

, , , , , , | Right | January 17, 2018

(The store I work at is closing at the end of December. I’m particularly stressed about it, since the same thing happened to my previous job only a few months before, and I am still trying to find somewhere else to go. This is, of course, the perfect time for my least favorite regular, a forgetful old lady with two dogs, to come in.)

Regular: “Oh, hello! Why do all these signs say, ‘Everything must go’?”

Me: “Well, the store is closing soon, so we’re liquidating. Just so you know, because of the generous discounts, you can’t use coupons anymore, and all sales are final.”

Regular: “Oh, okay. So, what are the sales?”

(There are sale signs posted on literally everything, all within about two feet of each other, so I point them out and explain and let her go on her way. She and her dogs stay for hours, and she keeps piling things on the back counter like it’s her personal cart. I remind her each time that she is not allowed behind the register and she continues pushing past me. Eventually, she finally checks out, a process which takes almost half an hour because she’s forgotten the sales and I have to explain them to her again multiple times. She also haggles on every item and gives me a ton of “no”s, but then asks me to hold them for her until tomorrow. Finally, she leaves, because she claims her dogs are getting overwhelmed. I think that’s the end of it until she actually comes back the next day, bag and receipt in hand.)

Regular: “Um, hi, I think it was you who helped me yesterday? I don’t know. I bought this pin.”

Me: “Yes, that was me. What about the pin?”

Regular: “Well, you see, on my way home, I was messing with it a little bit, and one of the stones fell out.”

Me: *ready for the crap-storm* “Oh, that sucks. I’m sorry.”

Regular: “You’re not going to ask me if I want to return it?”

Me: “No, because as I explained yesterday, all sales are final and we can’t accept any returns.”

Regular: “But it’s broken!”

Me: “It’s not broken because of us, so we can’t do anything about it. It broke after you left the store because you mishandled it.”

Regular: “Fine! God! Let me see my holds!”

Me: *pulls out the basket we set aside for her yesterday*

Regular: *stats pulling out items one by one and throwing them at me* “Then I don’t want this! I don’t want this! I don’t want any of this!”

Me: *getting beaned in the face by a sharp pair of earrings* “Then don’t buy them, and leave the store now.”

Regular: “How dare you?! I’m going to have you fired!”

Me: “Ma’am, I’ve effectively already been fired; all of us have. Our store is closing.”

Regular: *on her way out* “Good! You’re the reason they’re closing your store!”

Bringing A Kid To The Movies Is Not Inconceivable

, , , , , , | Hopeless | January 5, 2018

(It’s the 30th anniversary of one of my favorite movies. My husband, a movie buff himself, gets us tickets, but our sitter cancels at the last minute. Without another alternative, we decide to risk it and bring our three-year-old son along. We’re able to get a ticket for the seat right next to those we already bought, and plan to take turns taking him out if he interferes with anyone else’s enjoyment of the movie. To our delight, he’s very well-behaved and only needs to go out once, to use the restroom. The movie is nearly over, and we’re watching the climactic sword fight between two brilliant swordsman.)

Inigo: *on screen* “I want my father back, you son of a b****.” *stabs his opponent*

(There’s a moment of silence where the impact of this hits the audience, which is exactly when my son gasps.)

Son: “OH, NO!”

(The whole theater cracks up laughing, and it just ruins the dramatic tension built up over the previous 90 minutes. I am horribly embarrassed, and quickly vow never to bring him to the theater again. We start to head out once the show is over.)

Patron: *spots my son* “Hey, is that the kid who…?”

Me: “Yes. I’m so sorry!”

Patron: “Naw, it was hilarious!” *crouches down to the kid’s level* “Give me five, little buddy! That was awesome!”

(Several others overheard, and also hastened to reassure us that they found it humorous. In fact, we didn’t receive a single negative reaction. Not even so much as a glare. Still, not planning to bring the kid to the theater again any time soon. But thank you, theater patrons, for having a heart!)

Unfiltered Story #103604

, , | Unfiltered | January 5, 2018

(I have epilepsy and have had several partial-complex seizures. I have been delivered by ambulance to the city hospital; unfortunately, the neurologist on call is one who I stopped seeing when he accused me of faking seizures in order to get attention–possibly because he is friendly with the neurologist who molested me when I was a teen.)

ER Nurse: Her ID says she has epilepsy. We need to make sure she’s had her medication today.

Neurologist: There’s no need. She’s just being dramatic. (To me) [My name]! Stop trying to make everyone feel sorry for you. (To the nurse) Give her some [anxiety medication]. She’ll tell you it gives her panic attacks; she’s a chronic liar. Just do it.

(I am not sure what happened next, but I woke up in the darkened room alone. Confused and sick, I threw up in a trash bin and wandered down an empty hall until I found an exit. I remember walking blankly until I found a street sign, then calling my sister and asking her to pick me up. About an hour later, I am home in bed when the phone rings and my mother answers.

Caller: This is [name] from [hospital]. Your daughter was here earlier today. She isn’t currently in the room and hasn’t been seen in a few hours; would you like us to begin looking for her?

Mother: She’s with us now, and safe, no thanks to you.

Caller: Oh, okay. When can she come in to give us her billing information?

(I did go back, with my parents… and a lawyer. He suggested that charging me for improper treatment that I had never consented to, and had been harmed by, might not be in their best interest. They dropped the bill. They also sent my mother flowers, which was weird.)

Unfiltered Story #102704

, , | Unfiltered | January 2, 2018

(I work for a major credit card company, in fraud prevention. Customer service calls in with a customer transfer for a suspicious caller, and it’s New Year’s Eve. The customer failed questioning with customer service and they were transferring him to me for further questions. I thought “no biggie, I’ll ask the highest level questions to fail him and put it into review.” Immediately, I can see he’s calling in on a number that’s not on file for the true customer’s phone information. As I’m going through the questions, however, it’s clear the caller is trying to sound sick, and he says this gem several times instead of a legitimate answer:)

Caller: “I’m too sick to answer these questions.”

(Of course, it’s a fail and I place it under review. I tell him the department security specialists will “straighten it out” and call him back within 48 hours, but he’s not done with trying to access our customer’s information.)

Caller: “Where’s your local office? I want to come talk to your specialists and explain what’s going on.”

(We only have four centers that customer-accessible departments are in, and you can only reach them by phone or online. These centers are in Utah (the office I’m in), Arizona, Delaware, and Ohio. The account address is in Florida. And even if he somehow gained knowledge of where we were located, he would be unable to get into the building without a badge.

So that call ends, and another one a few hours later really broke me.

This customer, thankfully, was a legitimate cardmember. However, his grasp of English left a lot to be desired. But from the broken language I could understand, I gathered quickly that his car had been broken into, that it was a rental, and his possessions had been stolen. But he still had his card and no fraudulent charges had been made on it. But he made mention of what he was trying to do, and it made me go completely silent for a few moments when I realized what that was:

The customer wanted to get rental car insurance THROUGH us, his CREDIT CARD!

Today made me lose a lot of my dwindling faith in humanity.


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