Black Friday Strikes Earlier Every Year

, , | Right | January 4, 2018

(I own a tattoo parlour, and for the last 15+ years we’ve given Black Friday deals. However, due to the popularity of these appointments (15% off, plus waiving the supply charge), we open bookings on a specific day in September. Shop policy is that all appointments must be made in person so a deposit can be paid, and a quick consult can be given. In mid-August we advertise which day BF appointments can be made. As soon as we start advertising, a woman calls and tries to book an appointment. I tell her that she’ll have to come down to the shop on the specific day and time if she wants to book on BF. She absolutely loses it and hangs up the phone. Later that day she comes in, screaming about how she needs to book an appointment on BF. Again, we tell her no, and she storms out. Then booking day rolls around. We open at 10 am and there’s already a line up. I’m upstairs booking in a customer when the woman comes back.)

Woman: *pushes to the front of the queue* “All right, I’m here to book my appointment. I want [Highly Sought-After Artist] to do a [horribly cliché design] all over my back. It’ll probably take all day, so make sure he doesn’t book anyone else.”

Me: “Certainly, ma’am. Although you’ll have to wait at the back of the queue for your turn. If [Artist] still has time available, I’ll definitely book you in.”

Woman: “What?! NO! I’ve been trying to get through to you people for ages! I want to book my tattoo! NOW!” *stomps her foot*

Me: “Once you’ve queued like everyone else, I’ll most certainly help you. Until then, excuse me.”

(I manage to ignore her long enough, and she finally leaves, all the while screaming. I figure this is the last I’ll see of her, but Black Friday rolls around and low and behold, she shows up, claiming she has an appointment.)

Woman: “I’m here for my appointment with [Artist]. I was getting [design], remember?”

Me: “Ma’am, you don’t have an appointment. I told you months ago you would have to queue like everyone else, and you refused. And, quite frankly, I’m going to refuse you services based on how you’ve acted every time you’ve been in here. Please leave.”

Woman: “YOU DUMB C***! I BOOKED AN APPOINTMENT! I PAID MY F****** DEPOSIT! SCAMMING B****! I WANT MY F****** TATTOO RIGHT F****** NOW!”

Me: “Look, lady, you’ve got five minutes to leave or I’m calling the police.”

(She screeches like a banshee and actually rips one of our artist’s paintings off the wall and smashes the frame. No charges are pressed since the actual painting was fine, and we don’t want to deal with her anymore. Weeks later, she comes back with sunglasses and dyed hair, but still recognizable by her hand tattoos.)

Me: “Ma’am, please leave. You’re banned from this shop due to all the Black Friday grief you caused last month. You need to leave now, or I’ll call the police.”

Woman: “Uhh, no. That was my sister.”

(Police ended up escorting her out.)

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Storage Wars

, , , , | Right | January 4, 2018

(My boss owns storage units, which is separate from what our office does, but we accept calls for the storage center when his storage office manager is out. It happens often, so we know the sizes and prices of the units.)

Me: “Good afternoon, [Office]. This is [My Name].”

Caller: *mumbling*

Me: “I apologize, I’m not able to hear you.”

Caller: *loud sigh and more mumbling*

Me: “I still can’t hear you. Please speak up.”

Caller: “STORAGE UNITS!”

Me: “Okay. The only units available right now are 10 x 20, they are [price #1] per month and [price #2] for deposit.”

Caller: “That’s it?”

Me: “Yes, ma’am, that’s the only available size.”

Caller: “Climate controlled?”

Me: “They aren’t.”

Caller: “How much for the smaller ones?”

Me: “They start at [price #3], but I’ll admit that I’ve never seen any available in the two years that I’ve been here. I can share the other prices with you, but it will be the same. None of them are available, and I don’t see that any will be available in the near future.”

Caller: “That’s not what I was told.” *hangs up*

(Ten minutes later, she calls again.)

Me: “Good morning, [Office]–”

Caller: “STORAGE UNITS!”

Me: “Yes, the office manager isn’t available today. How can I help you?”

Caller: “I talked to her earlier. She said she had a small unit for me for [price way lower than I quoted].”

Me: “Oh? Who was this you spoke to?”

Caller: “[Random Name] person told me this.”

Me: “Are you sure you’re calling the right place?”

Caller: “YES! I’m calling [Storage], right?”

Me: “Yes, but you talked with me earlier, and I distinctly told you that we only have one size available, and that I didn’t see any smaller units being available in the near future.”

(She hangs up, then calls back a few minutes later.)

Me: “Good morning, [Office]—”

Caller: “STORAGE UNITS!”

Me: “It’s still me, and we only have the 10×20.”

Caller: “F***!” *hangs up*

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What Was In That Happy Meal?

, , , , | Right | January 2, 2018

(I worked doing door-to-door sales on commission for an animal shelter. I’m doing really well this particular day, in a very rich neighbourhood, and I come to one of the biggest houses I’ve ever seen. I ring the bell and a lady wearing a bright green dress and eating fries out of a Happy Meal answers with a big smile on her face.)

Me: “Hi, my name is [My Name] and I’m selling a few bits and bobs to raise money for [Animal Shelter].”

Lady: “What animals are in the shelter?”

Me: “Mainly dogs, but there are also cats and donkeys.”

Lady: *raising her voice incredibly loudly* “Dogs! Filthy, disgusting , horrible animals! How dare you ask me to support f****** dogs?! They should all be thrown into a fire, cooked, and eaten! Or better, eaten alive!” *proceeds to spit at my feet then slams the door in my face*

Me: *walking away* “Holy jaysus…”

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Isn’t Able To See The Situation Clearly

, , , , | Right | December 31, 2017

(On this New Year’s Eve, not only are we incredibly short staffed, due to a sickness bug that led all of the senior staff to call out sick, but both of our directors and our manager are away at a regional meeting. Because of this, I am running our in-store call centre — that is usually staffed by a team of three — all on my own.)

Me: “Good morning, [Organisation]. [My Name] speaking. How can I help?”

Customer: “I need to order some contact lenses, and I need them for a party tonight.”

(I take the patient’s details, needing to check her prescription and if she is in date, but she has never had contact lenses with us before, only a sight test over eight years ago.)

Me: “Ma’am, have you had contact lenses from somewhere else? If I can get a copy of the prescription we can see if we have them in stock.”j

Customer: “No, I’ve never had lenses anywhere else! You’re obviously an idiot if you can’t find it. This happened last time as well, and they just gave me lenses.”

Me: “Ma’am, you’ve never had lenses from this store. There is no record at all of you having had any. Are you sure you haven’t been to another opticians?”

Customer: “You stupid f***! I want to speak to your supervisor!”

Me: “I’m sorry, but we don’t have any supervisors in today.”

Customer: “I want a manager, then.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but there are no managers in either.”

Customer: “Well, then, give me the owner!”

Me: “Neither of the store directors are in today I’m afraid. If you want to speak to anybody more senior than myself, there should be a manager in four days time.”

Customer: “Then who the f*** is running the store?!” *hangs up*

(Just as I take a deep breath, glad I don’t have to speak to someone so rude, the phone rings again.)

Customer: “I need to order some contact lenses, and I need them for a party tonight. The stupid woman I spoke to before was so rude to me. She swore at me so I want them for free.”

Me: “Ma’am, it was me you just spoke to.”

Customer: *hangs up*

(After the fourth time she tried this, I wrote down her phone number and ignored the rest of her calls. She never bothered calling back on Monday for a manager!)

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His Handicap Is A Lack Of Decency

, , , , , , | Right | December 29, 2017

(We share a parking lot with a restaurant with a lot of regulars. One has decided to be the self-appointed handicap spot judge. He will sit at the outside tables yelling whenever he thinks someone is parking in them inappropriately. We have received a ton of complaints about him, but mall security hasn’t caught him in the act yet, so he is still allowed on the premises. I’m grabbing lunch from the restaurant and see him outside, so I text security to come and keep an eye on him. Not long afterwards a car pulls into a handicap spot displaying proper tags. A young woman gets out of the driver’s seat.)

Regular: “Hey! What the f*** is your handicap? That you need a latte? B****! I’m talking to you! You can walk just fine! You’re taking that spot from someone who needs it! Let me guess: you got that tag on your knees in front of the doctor! Hey! Don’t ignore me!”

(The woman has completely ignored the rant, heading to the back of the car and pulling something out of the trunk. I’ve gotten video of the regular and texted it to security, who says he is on his way ASAP. By this point I’ve realized what the woman is getting out of the trunk: a walker. Next, she opens the back passenger door and helps out a small, extremely elderly woman. The regular hasn’t stopped his insults. The second the elderly woman gets her hands on the walker, she starts towards the regular. She stops in front of him, pulls off her hat, and starts to hit him over the head with it, furious.)

Elderly Woman: “You don’t call my granddaughter a b****! What is wrong with you?! Who raised you?!”

(The regular reels back, shocked, and security walks up to see the vengeful grandmother’s anger.)

Regular: “Make her stop!”

Security: “Ma’am, please stop. Sir, you’re officially banned from mall property for harassing other customers.”

Regular: “Harassing?! They’re the ones cheating the system. She—” *gesturing at the granddaughter* “—doesn’t need a handicap spot.”

Security: “No, but she—” *gesturing to the grandmother, who has sat down, exhausted from her exertion* “—probably does. Anyway, it’s none of your business. Ma’am, are you all right?”

Grandmother: “I’m 92 years old, and it’s been too long since I put an a**hole in his place. I’m fine!”

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