Rest Of The World = Not America

, , , , , | Right | December 5, 2018

(I am currently the supervisor of the front end of a major supermarket in a small Australian town on the edge of the suburbs. I get called over by an employee who is dealing with a rather rude customer.)

Me: “Hi, sir. What seems to be your problem today?”

Customer: “Fire your d*** useless employee now!”

Me: “Okay, sir, please calm down and explain to me what the exact problem is.”

Customer: “This d*** employee won’t accept my rewards card! I never get good service here! You love taking my money, but I never get any service!”

(I turn to the employee and see he is holding a [Massive American Retailer] rewards card.)

Me: “Sir, I am sorry, but we can’t accept this card here.”

Customer: “I demand to talk to a supervisor! This is completely unacceptable!”

Me: “Sir, I am the supervisor currently working today. Now, please calm down and we will try to work this out down at the service desk.”’

(I ask to employee to save the transaction so I can recall it at the service desk.)

Me: “Sir, there is no way we can accept this card, as it is not a [Our Store Rewards Card]; this card is not valid anywhere in this country.”

Customer: “Why the h*** not? I always use this card!”

Me: “Because we are not [Massive American Retailer], and I can assure you nobody here will accept this card.”

Customer: “But I always use this card!”

Me: *seeing this is going nowhere* “Okay, sir, I will ring the closest [Massive American Retailer], and if they say it’s okay, we will accept it.”

Customer: “Finally!”

(I get my phone out and look for the closest store, which happens to be in Honolulu, thousands of kilometres away across the Pacific. As soon as they answer, I give the phone to the customer. I can only hear what he is saying, but he is turning beet red. After a few more seconds, he slams the phone down and turns to me.)

Customer: “Is this some sort of joke? Why did you call a f****** store in Hawaii?”

Me: “That is the closest store; we are in Australia, not America, if you haven’t already noticed.”

Customer: “You f****** idiots have no idea what you are talking about!”

Me: “Sir, please stop swearing. Now, would you like to finish your purchase, or would you like me to void it?”

(He then stormed out, muttering that he was absolutely in America and we just didn’t want to help him. I really didn’t know what to say after that.)

Medication To Cure Delusions Of Self-Importance

, , , , , | Right | November 28, 2018

(The phone rings.)

Me: “Good morning, [Pharmacy]. This is [My Name] speaking.”

Customer: “I need to speak to the pharmacist.”

Me: “Sorry, the pharmacist is consulting at the moment. Maybe I can help you?”

Customer: “No. It’s super urgent. Only the pharmacist can answer this question.”

(Luckily, the pharmacist has just finished consulting.)

Me: “Oh! The pharmacist has just finished consulting. I will put you on.”

Pharmacist: “Hello? [Pharmacist] speaking.”

Customer: “What time do you guys close?”

Put Our Service To The Test

, , , , , | Friendly | November 27, 2018

(My husband and I own a four bedroom house — two up, two down. As my husband is disabled and uses a wheelchair or crutches to get around, we have converted the downstairs bedrooms and bathroom into one big suite, as he also works from home and uses the second bedroom as his office. Our long-term boarder — a guy in his late 20s — is moving out soon, so we post an ad on a popular free website advertising for someone working full time or studying to rent the second bedroom upstairs. They would be sharing the second bathroom and a small lounge room with our boarder until he moves. We have quite a few interesting people come to have a look, but this girl and her parents take the cake. The girl is eighteen and about to start university; her parents come along as they will be paying her rent. We chat for a bit, and they meet our boarder briefly before he leaves for work. Before I show them around the house, the mother asks to use the toilet, so I show her to the half bath we also have on the ground floor. A few minutes later, she comes back.)

Mother: “I saw the room. So big, and the en suite is brilliant. We’ll take it.”

Me: *confused as the ad had pictures of the medium-sized room and bathroom* “I’m sorry, ma’am, but you must have looked at our room. The room available is upstairs.”

Mother: “Oh, no. We want the room down here. It’s perfect, with the extra room for her to study and a nice big bathroom.”

Husband: “Ma’am, that is our bedroom. If you’d like to see the available room, [My Name] will show you upstairs.”

Wife: “No. [Daughter] will be a guest in your home. We will not pay [extremely reasonable price for a fully-furnished room including all bills] for her to be stuck in a tiny room upstairs and share a bathroom with a junkie pedophile. The room down here is perfect.”

(Now I’m getting angry, as the ad clearly states that the room is upstairs, and that the top level will be shared with our boarder, who will actually be moving out to go to the police academy.)

Me: “I’m sorry, but this is obviously not going to work. Thank you for coming, and good luck finding something to suit your tastes.”

Mother: “What? We are guests here and are willing to pay good money for the room. Now, she will move in on [date]. And since you’ve upset us, we will not be paying the first two weeks’ rent or paying a bond.”

(I’m seeing red, so my husband steps in again.)

Husband: “Okay, that’s fine, but you are going to have to pay for a lift to be put in — as I can’t get up and down the stairs — a remodel of the bathroom to accommodate my wheelchair, and an extension to be built for my office, as I run my business from home. All up, I’d say $80,000 should cover it. If we get started tomorrow, it may be ready by [date].”

(The father, who has been silent the whole time, starts laughing while the mother is spluttering.)

Mother: “What?! No, she will be a guest in your home; you need to cater to what we want.”

Husband: “Ma’am, I think it’s time for you to leave.” *to the daughter* “Miss, good luck with university, and I hope you find suitable accommodation.”

(The mother grabs the daughter’s hand and drags her out, yelling that they’re guests and  that we should cater to what she wants, and leaving the father behind.)

Father: “I’m so sorry about her. Things like that are the reason we split up. I’m only here because of my daughter. Thank you for your time, and I sincerely apologize for my ex-wife’s behavior.”

(We did end up getting a student in, and it worked out brilliantly. The father, who was a CEO of a big company, even ended up hiring my husband to build and maintain the company’s new website. The young woman ended up finding accommodation in a flat with other students, and in the end, cut all ties with her psychotic mother.)

Two Prices, Twice The Trouble

, , , , , , | Right | November 7, 2018

(I work at a Canadian outlet of an American retail chain. Many of the products arrive in the store with both US and Canadian prices on them. This is frequently a bone of contention for customers, because the US price is always significantly lower than the Canadian price. I am approached by one such customer:)

Customer: “If I pay in US dollars, I pay the US price, right?”

Me: “We do accept US dollars, but you will have to pay the Canadian price.”

Customer: “Why?”

Me: “Because this is a Canadian store.”

Customer: “But it’s an American company!”

Me: *a bit confused* “But you’re in Canada!”

“It’s Their Culture” Is No Longer Valid Currency

, , , , | Right | November 4, 2018

(I work at a gift shop directly on a cruise terminal, and it’s not unusual for people to come in looking to either break up big bills or trade smaller bills for the larger ones. My coworker and I are both female and in our early twenties, as are most of my other coworkers. There are seventeen females to every three males so it’s common not to have a male present. A gentleman of East Indian descent comes into the store, looks at the people in it, looks at my coworker and me behind the counter, looks at the other people again, and reluctantly turns back to us.)

Coworker: “Hello, sir! Do you have a question?”

Customer: *looks around again, still looking a bit puzzled* “Is it just you two girls working?”

Coworker: “Yes, sir. Do you need any help?”

Customer: “So, there’s no one else? Not your grandfather?”

(It should be noted that while it is a family business, neither of us recognize the man, and she has been working there for seven years and me for three; we don’t know how he knows to ask for her grandfather.)

Coworker: “No, sir, but my father, the manager, is right outside.”

Customer: “Okay.” *leaves without a backward glance*

(Both my coworker and I are thinking that there’s a problem with the washroom or something else that he would be uncomfortable talking about to a woman. He later comes in with our manager to get rid of small bills. That is all he does. Both my coworker and I are a little peeved, to say the least. It’s not just that he thought we couldn’t do it, but he didn’t even ask because we’re women. After he leaves, my manager can see we’re a little upset.)

Manager: “It’s just his culture.”

Me: *softly to my coworker* “Yes, I understand. Because we have uteruses, we absolutely cannot do simple addition!”

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