They Need To Be Set Straight

, , , , | Working | February 16, 2018

(I’m a customer, wandering around the mall with my husband to kill time while my phone is being repaired. I pass a kiosk that is selling hair-straightening devices. A worker spots me.)

Worker #1: “Hi! We’ve got a great deal today!”

Me: “No, thanks.” *keeps walking*

Worker #1: “Imagine no-damage, straight, shiny hair!”

Me: *over my shoulder* “No, thanks.”

(Later, I’m heading back to pick up my phone and I pass the same kiosk. The worker now has a coworker with them.)

Worker #2: “Hey! We can get rid of those curls for you!”

Me: “No, thanks!”

Worker #2: “No one wants curls!”

Me: “No!”

([Worker #2] then RUNS up behind me and tries to grab my hair. My husband blocks her, and I scream:)

Me: “DO NOT TOUCH ME! GET AWAY FROM ME!”

Worker #2: “Geez! No need to be so rude! I’m just trying to help you get rid of those ugly curls!”

Husband: “Who is going to help you get rid of your ugly personality?”

From Sweet To Bitter In Less Than One Bite

, , , , | Right | February 14, 2018

Customer: “I can’t have chocolate, because I’m diabetic. You have to stop me if I order anything with chocolate in it.”

Me: “Oh, okay. What can I get you?”

Customer: “A big slab of millionaire’s shortbread and a large mochaccino, please.”

(When I advise her that both of those contain chocolate, she becomes irate and abusive, and screams and demands a manager.)

Customer: “Your staff is insulting me. She’s refusing to sell me anything sweet, saying I’m fat and should be dead. I’m very upset!”

(The manager looks at me, completely confused, as he knows I’m not that confrontational. When I try to speak, the customer spins even more outlandish tales, such as me questioning her husband’s virility and sexuality, and suggesting she become bulimic and die on the toilet.)

Manager: “I… I just can’t believe [My Name] could say all this in the five seconds I was in the kitchen. All I heard from her was, ‘Okay,’ when you mentioned your medical condition.”

(The customer went wide-eyed and left briskly.)

Troll Booth

, , , , , , | Right | February 10, 2018

(I am working as a server on a Saturday evening. It is rather slow, but it usually picks up from seven until closing. The policy for our restaurant is that booths can only be used to seat parties of three or more, due to the limited seating we have. A woman walks into the restaurant asking to be seated in a booth.)

Host: “Unfortunately, we can only seat parties of three or more in a booth. We have many tables available, as well as the bar.”

Customer: “I’d like to speak to your manager.”

(The manager arrives and asks what the problem is, then explains the policy to the customer.)

Customer: “YOU ARE TREATING ME LIKE A SECOND-CLASS CITIZEN!”

Manager: “Ma’am, I’m sorry you feel that way, but it is policy, and we have many other tables available to you.”

Customer: “WHAT YOU ARE DOING TO ME RIGHT NOW IS COMPARABLE TO A PERSON OF COLOR BEING TOLD TO SIT AT THE BACK OF THE BUS! YOU ARE DISCRIMINATING. I WILL NOT PAY FOR ANY MEAL I EAT HERE!”

(The woman was white. If it had been up to me, I would have asked her to leave, but my manager caved and gave her a booth, much to the ire of the couple who we denied a booth, due to the policy, just moments prior to this woman showing up. And of course, guess who had to serve her?)

Book Him To Colombia To Spite Him

, , , , , | Right | February 4, 2018

(I am at Washington Dulles airport, and I have just missed a connection. I head to the customer service desk for my airline. I am the only one currently there, and there are five or six women behind the counter. I approach the one who actually makes eye contact with me, and begin the process of rebooking onto the next flight. While [Representative #1] is helping me with this, a man comes rushing up to her and starts shouting.)

Passenger: “I need to get on that plane!”

(One of the other ladies behind the counter tries to get his attention.)

Representative #2: “Which plane?”

Passenger: *still to [Representative #1]* “The one out there going to Columbia!”

Representative #2: “The cabin door has already closed on that plane. We cannot have it reopened. I can reb—”

Passenger: *finally to her, rather than the lady who is still rebooking me* “No! I need to be on that plane!

Representative #2: “You can go to the gate and ask for a manager, but I doubt—”

(He walks away before she can finish, and [Representative #1] has to switch to another computer, because hers freezes up, so it takesa little more time. As she’s finally printing my tickets, the man comes back, all red-faced and angry. He actually starts going behind the counter where the ladies are all working.)

Representative #1: *losing her cool for the first time* “Sir! You are not to come back here behind the customer service desk!”

Passenger: “They won’t open the doors! I need—”

Representative #1: “You need to go back around this desk, or I will call the police to move you there.”

Passenger: “You and I need to have a little talk about customer service.”

Representative #1: “That’s just fine, as long as it takes place with you on the other side of this desk!”

(She hands me my tickets.)

Representative #1: “GO!”

(I hightailed it out of there, passing security as I did so. Whoever that man was, I’m pretty sure he didn’t make it to Columbia.)

An Eye For An Eyepatch

, , , , | Beaverton, OR, USA | Right | February 1, 2018

Throwback Thursdays

Throwback Thursday!  Check out this awesome story that you may not have seen before. Have you had to deal with a customer who made a rude assumption about you? Tell us about it in the comments?

 

(I’m the only employee still working a cash register late one night. I’ve got a long line, and the next customer keeps glaring at me.)

Me: “Hello, miss, sorry about the wait. Did you find everything all right?”

Customer: “I’m so sick of you people.”

Me: “Of who?”

Customer: “First, that awful girl stacking the shelves with the pink hair, and now you with that… thing on your face! Why are you brats so desperate for attention?”

(Two years ago, I lost my right eye in an accident. I wear an eyepatch now.)

Me: “Ma’am, that’s not a fashion statement. I really need—”

Customer: “Don’t lie to me!”

(Without warning, she lunges across the counter and grabs the patch, snapping the cord and pulling it off. She laughs with triumph for about a second before she sees my empty eye socket.)

Customer: *screams and runs out of the store, leaving her items but taking the eyepatch*

(That customer never came back. Fortunately, I have a lot of spare eyepatches, but I had to finish the rest of my shift that night with a paper bandage over the socket.)

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