Email Fail, Part 23

, , , , , | Right | April 6, 2019

(I am taking a phone order for merchandise to be shipped to a customer in another state. Our POS software requires us to gather transaction details in a certain order, over which I have no control.)

Me: “Could you please give me your billing address?”

Customer: “Okay, so, my [Credit Card] number is—“

Me: “Ma’am, please wait a moment. I need to take your billing info and create an invoice before I’ll be ready for your credit card.”

(I manage to get her name and her billing and shipping address.)

Me: “If you’ll give me your email address, I can email you a tracking number.”

Customer: “Yes, please do!” *silence*

Me: “May I please have your email address?”

Customer: *after another long moment* “Oh, yes, my phone number is—“ *rattles off a phone number extremely quickly*

Me: “Okay, I can take your phone number, but please recite it slowly for me.” *she does* “Thank you. Now, you were going to give me your email?”

Customer: “Why was that again?”

Me: *growing frustrated* “So I can send you a tracking number?”

(We go around this mulberry bush two or three more times. Finally, I wrest her email address out of her.)

Customer: *as I’m typing in the email* “Now, what was the total?”

Me: *patiently* “I can give you the total as soon as I’ve finished creating the invoice. Just a moment.” *does so* “The total will be [total].”

Customer: “Can I give you my credit card now?”

Me: “Just one moment while I get to the payment screen.” *in fairness, our software is annoyingly slow*

(I process her payment and thank her for her business.)

Customer: “When will it arrive?”

Me: “Sorry, ma’am, I can’t tell you that until it’s been boxed up and processed. Once the tracking number has been created I’ll have that information.”

Customer: “Okay, why don’t you just email me when you know?”

Me: *bangs head against keyboard repeatedly*

Related:
Email Fail, Part 22
Email Fail, Part 21
Email Fail, Part 20

The Gift Card That Keeps On Giving, Part 10

, , , , | Right | April 5, 2019

(I work at a store in a mall, so every once in a while a customer will come in with a gift card that works at any store within the mall. We have to run these as credit cards.)

Customer: *after paying with one of the aforementioned gift cards* “Can you tell me the remaining balance on my card?”

(I have never been asked this about one of the mall-wide gift cards before.)

Me: “Um, it should say on your receipt. Let’s see.”

(No such luck. After printing the receipt, I find that because it ran as a credit card, it doesn’t list the remaining balance the way it would for a gift card to our store. I inform the customer of this.)

Customer: “Really? There’s no way to check my remaining balance? Because there was $300 on this gift card; I don’t want to go to the next store and find out there’s zero balance left.”

Me: *thinking: “WTF, lady, how would that even happen?”* “Well, it shows here on the receipt that you were only charged [amount well below $100], so there’s no reason you wouldn’t have the rest of the balance left.”

Customer: “But are you sure there’s no way to check? I just want to make sure I still have the rest of my money on there.”

(I see a manager nearby, so I call her over and explain the situation, just in case she knows a trick for checking the balance that I just don’t know about.)

Manager: “Unfortunately, as far as I know, there’s no way of checking the balance if it doesn’t print on the receipt.” *to customer* “But if you go to the mall customer service down on the lower level, they may be able to check for you.”

Customer: *taking her items, preparing to leave* “Okay, but if I go down there and there’s no money left on this card, I’m going to come back up here and you’re going to have problems.”

Me: *a bit flabbergasted at this point, but trying to keep my retail smile intact* “Okay, ma’am, have a nice day.”

(She never came back, so I’m guessing she still had the rest of her money, but seriously, lady, when has a cash register ever charged anything other than the cost of your items?)

Related:
The Gift Card That Keeps On Giving, Part 9
The Gift Card That Keeps On Giving, Part 8
The Gift Card That Keeps On Giving, Part 7

Making The Coffee Bean Racist

, , , | Right | April 3, 2019

(I work at an espresso stand. I am a Latino that looks extremely Caucasian as I got most of my looks from my mother’s side of the family rather than my father’s Mexican side. A customer drives up to our stand and orders a coffee. After I hand him his drink, he hands me a business card.)

Customer: “This is the stand that I own in [Nearby City].”

Me: “Oh, how’s it do? You’ve got a lot of competition here.”

Customer: *laughs* “We make money hand over fist.”

Me: “Awesome. I’ve thought of trying my hand opening my own stand in another state where they don’t have as many. Colorado seems like it might be the place to try it out.”

Customer: “Colorado is full of Mexicans. Mexicans don’t drink coffee!” *laughs* “They can pick it fine, but they don’t drink it.”

Me: *long pause* “Have a nice day, sir.”

Doesn’t Get The Tall And The Short Of It

, , , , | Right | April 1, 2019

(I work as a ride operator at a theme park, and one of my duties is to height-check and make sure the guests are tall enough to go on the ride. At the beginning of the line are two girls, presumably sisters. One of them is tall enough, but the other one isn’t. Her mother is watching nearby and is wondering why I don’t let the little girl in. I explain, to which she responds.)

Mother: “I don’t understand.”

(I explain again, but she still doesn’t understand. It happens a couple more times, and even the guests in line try to tell her straight up. All of a sudden, she gets all snotty and sneers.)

Mother: “Then what you do is send her out of the line. Not that hard to do.”

(Lady, you were having trouble understanding that your child was too short to ride, to begin with. Apparently, that WAS hard to do.)

No Movie Magic To Rescue You Here

, , , , , , | Learning | March 27, 2019

I am in sixth grade when this happens and we are doing end-of-year testing in our first-period classes. I am very happy with this because my first-period class is Intro to Spanish, which is taught by a very nice teacher. The first day of testing goes by without any problems, but when I get to class the second day, I find out that my Spanish teacher is gone and my math teacher will be supervising us in her place.

My math teacher that year is not overly sadistic, but he acts like he knows everything and that the people who taught us math in elementary school are idiots. He is also the type who picks favorites, gives us only three bathroom passes per trimester — using any more gets you a lunch detention — forbids any socializing at all during regular class time — for example, if you turn around in your chair you get lunch detention –and gives you lunch detention if you needlessly disrupt class more than three times a week. His classes can be fun sometimes, and he does teach useful stuff, which makes me feel kind of guilty for disliking him, but I just do not like him at all.

During the time period where everyone is working on the huge test we are fine, but when everyone is finished, he decides to turn on a movie. The movie that he chooses is one that I have recently seen and I am terrified of because a scene involves something I have a phobia of, so I go to ask him if we can change the movie because I’m scared of watching it. He refuses. I keep asking him, but he keeps refusing and turns on the movie. I get multiple questions about why the movie scares me on my way back to my seat and I simply answer by saying that there is a scene that really scares me. Fast forward a bit, and we’re almost at the part that terrifies me. Because it’s close to the end of class, I ask to use the bathroom and get permission to leave the classroom. I spend the rest of the class in the bathroom. Faith in humanity crushed.

The next day, my Spanish teacher is back and, since the class is done with the test, she goes to turn on a movie. I ask her if we can switch to a different movie, and when she asks me why, I explain and some of my classmates explain how scared I looked while the movie was on and how I had to go to the bathroom to calm down. This catches me off guard because middle schoolers aren’t usually the kindest and because I’m probably the least popular person in the class. The teacher agrees to not watch the movie and chooses a different one, which I enjoy.

Then, when class is about to end, I am handed a small hall pass that is only issued for when students need to serve lunch detentions. I see that the room I’m supposed to go to for lunch detention is the one my math teacher’s class is in, so at lunch, I go in and ask my math teacher why I have lunch detention. He tells me that it’s because I used up my three bathroom passes for his class for the trimester and that I used a fourth the day before. He gave me a lunch detention because I used the bathroom in a class that wasn’t even his. Faith in humanity crushed again. I serve the lunch detention and go on my way, wondering how my math teacher could possibly think this was acceptable, but as I write this I wonder if he gave me lunch detention because I didn’t want to watch the movie.

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