Not Getting Owned By The Owner

, , , , | Right | September 11, 2015

(I work at a chain whose owner shares the same last name as me. It’s pure coincidence but still comes in handy as shown below:)

Me: “Hello there! Will this be all?”

Lady: *gives me a disapproving look and places her merchandise on my register. I continue making small talk as I ring her up*

Me: “Will this be on your store card today?”

Lady: “Excuse me, do you know who I am?”

Me: “I’m sorry?”

Lady: “I am Dr. [Name], wife of Dr. [Name]. As a regular customer I expect to be addressed accordingly!”

Me: “Uh… I do apologize, ma’am.”

Lady: “That’s DOCTOR [Name] to you! Are you not listening to me or are you just r******d?”

Me: “Again, I apologize. I’m still relatively new here and have not had a chance to get to know all of our regular clientele.”

Lady: “Well, I’m still going to report you for such blatant disrespect. Who is your manager?”

Me: “That would be [Manager].”

Lady: “Well, expect them to give you a proper reprimand when I tell them…” *she looks at my name tag*  “Wait… Your last name is [Owner’s Name]?”

Me: “That’s right.”

Lady: “As in the franchise owner’s name?”

(I nod and the lady suddenly looks a lot less irritated, and a lot more worried.)

Lady: “Uh… actually, as you said, you’re new so I can overlook this… Ermmm…”

(She scurries off and my manager comes over trying to suppress his giggles.)

Manager: “That woman comes in here and makes life hell for everyone just because she and her husband met the owner on one occasion at a party. Looks like I owe you an apology.”

Me: “What for?”

Manager: “I thought you were being pretentious by asking to have your first and last name on your name tag. Now I see the genius behind it. Well done.”

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Gift Carded And Dearly Departed

, , , , , , | Hopeless | September 20, 2013

(I am working as an assistant manager at a retail store. A customer comes in while it is slow, so I am able to pay a lot of attention to her, and find her exactly what she wants.)

Customer: “Is it okay to pay by gift card?”

Me: “Of course.”

(I start ringing her in.)

Customer: “I hate to use it, though.”

Me: “Oh, really? Why is that?”

Customer: “My mom gave it to me for my last birthday, and she passed away two months ago.”

(I pause for a moment to make eye contact with her.)

Me: “I’m so sorry to hear that. I lost my own mom a little over a year ago, so I know what you’re going through.”

Customer: “Oh! I guess you do understand, then. Does it get easier?”

Me: “No. I still miss her horribly, and still want to pick up the phone and call her every single day. But I suppose I’m not as raw as I was. You’ll get to that point, too, though you’ll always miss her.”

Customer: “Yeah…”

(I finish ringing her up, and swipe her gift card, which pays for everything. Afterwards, I bring her bag around the counter for her, and hand it to her.)

Customer: “Can I… Can I make a really strange request?”

Me: “Sure.”

Customer: “Can I keep the gift card?”

Me: “Oh, of course you can!”

(I hand it to her. She puts it back in the envelope that bears her name, and caresses it. I can see she’s on the verge of tears.)

Me: “Right before my mom died, she gave me the package she never sent me for my birthday, which had some Avon perfume in it. I like the perfume, but I hardly ever use it, because I don’t want to have to throw away one of the last things she ever gave me.”

Customer: “Oh, so you completely understand why I want to keep this!”

Me: *eyes filling with tears* “Oh, yes, ma’am, completely!”

(We wind up chatting for close to 45 minutes, sharing stories about our moms. By the end of it, we’re both crying openly, but they’re good tears.)

Customer: “I’ve taken up so much of your time; I’m sorry.”

Me: “No, don’t apologize. I’m so glad you came in, and that you were willing to share with me!”

Customer: “Can I… Can I hug you?”

Me: “Of course you can!”

(We hugged for a long time, with both of us still crying. She thanked me profusely, and vowed to come back and ask for me especially. I never did see her again, as I quit not long after that, but it was a wonderful experience. I hope wherever she is, her grief has become less raw than it was when I saw her. I’ll always, always remember her as being one of the best customers I ever had.)

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When Two Wrongs Make It Right

, , , , | Right | December 5, 2010

(The night previous we had a customer shoplift about $300 worth of merchandise while I was on shift. Thankfully, while she did get away with quite a bit, she escaped with only one boot of a pair, as I had removed the second boot, with ink tag intact, pending acceptance of her check.)

Me: “Thank you for calling [Store]. What can we help you find today?”

Caller: “Hi! I was at your store last night and the lady that helped me shorted us a shoe!”

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. What style was it?”

Caller: “A [Brand]. It was the right shoe. She was going to take the tag off and never did! I live far away, so do you think you could transfer it to the [Different Location] store?”

Me: “I don’t believe that would be feasible as we don’t have a way to get it to that store, but we might be able to mail it to you! Can I get your name, phone number, and address?”

Caller: “Sure. It is [Name, number, and address].”

(I got off the phone looking like the Cheshire Cat. The thief had just given her full name, phone number, and address.)

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From The Mouth Of Babes, Part 2

, , , | Right | June 11, 2010

Me: “Can I help you?”

Child: “I don’t get it.”

Me: “What?”

Child: “Are you old or just simple?”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Child: “Cause my mom said everyone who works at [Supermarket] is either old or simple.”

(The mother came running behind him, picked him up, and ran off.)

 

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A Not So Bitter End

, , , , | Right | April 28, 2010

Customer: “Are you in charge of the salad bar?”

Me: “Of course. I make sure all the food is fresh. Was something wrong?”

Customer: “Your dressings are too sweet!”

Me: “We buy our dressings pre-packaged, but it is possible that something went wrong somewhere along the way. Which one was it?”

Customer: “The dressing!”

Me: “They are all too sweet?”

Customer: “Were you born simple? The dressing is sweet!”

Me: “Is it red, orange, white, or brown?”

Customer: “The brown one is too sweet!”

Me: “That’s the balsamic vinaigrette. It shouldn’t be sweet at all, but I will pull it and put out a new container of dressing for you.”

Customer: “Thank you! Was that so difficult?”

(I begin to pull the only brown dressing we have and she stops me.)

Customer: “My God, you are such an idiot! You’re pulling the wrong d*** dressing!”

Me: “You said the brown dressing, right? I am pulling the brown dressing like you asked.”

Customer: “Not that dressing, you idiot, this brown dressing. You are so stupid!” *points*

Me: “You mean the chocolate pudding?”

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