Retail Hell Underground

Home Improvement Hell: Old Ladies Create Customer Service Nightmare

Hello all!

Little Slave in the Big Woods here again with a funny, angry, weird sort of situation here today. 

Our company does home remodeling and we've been around for quite a while so we can kind of predict what service calls come in when.  For example:  it's winter, people call about ice build up.  99% of the time, it is because YOUR WINDOWS ARE LOCKED OPEN!  Meaning, the window locks are pushing each other apart because they are not aligned correctly.  It's okay most of the time; I have a spiel all ready to go and with our great technology, we actually have a PowerPoint presentation and a video describing in detail how this happens and how to correctly lock your windows.  It's on our website but I can also send it in email for those who are not to tech savvy. 

Which leads me to today's phone call:  daughter (in her 70's) calls for mom (in her 90's).  There is ice building up around the middle of her windows.  Now normally, I ask about the locks, walk through the unlock/relock process and send the video (or the link to the video).  Not with the elderly - we try to service them immediately no matter what the problem.

The mom wasn't the problem, the daughter was.  Here is how it all went down: 

Boss goes to house, no one home, looks at the window and can easily see the metal slide is not covered so therefore the windows are pushing against each other forcing them apart.  He calls from his cell and leaves a message stating unlock, relock and all will be well.  Done right?  Sooo wrong.  Daughter calls back and wants to let me know that she doesn't believe that is the problem and that we screwed her over a number of years ago on her bay window. 

Hold it, what?  We did windows for you?  Yes, 1993 to be exact.  Back then, there wasn't the greatest in computer advancements, but we have paper copy galore so I could do some research later. 

Then she proceeds to tell me that her window never got fixed and she wanted someone to come look at her mom's right this second.  I try again to state the boss saw the window locked open do you mind giving it a try?  Before I could even get out the last part she tells me that the windows will not lock and it is a mechanical problem - someone needs to get over there right this second (again?  really?). 

A little more ranting and yelling at me...I let her finish, because I'm nice, and state very quickly say, I will let the boss know and he'll get right back to you, thank you bye!

 Now I'm going to chop this conversation down a little bit.  Boss calls, daughter is yelling again, the boss states he has seen it, locks are open, service charge will be $79 if he has to come out to lock the windows, daughter hangs up after calling him a lying asshole.  Boss calls back and talks to mom (Who is awesome!) who says, "She's the ugly daughter."  Boss laughs and says he'll be over in 5 minutes to lock the windows just for her for free - because once again, she is awesome. 

It took him longer to drive to their house then to lock the windows.  Done?  No, the daughter starts in again on how her window was never fixed and was a waste of money and blah blah blah blah blah.  This is how it went down in winter of 1994 & 1995:  3 service calls with nothing wrong on the window, manufacturer was called in to service personally, personal service provided.  Report stated ice dam issues due to not having ice guard on her roof.  You see, if you don't use the metal underlayment up here, you get ice build up in low lying or mild sloped roofs.  The ice builds up, damages shingles and leaks into your home.  Most bay windows are secured with a big fat anchor rod, cables, and hooks.  The water will seek the least resistant path and slide down this rod and fill up any pockets above the window and make ice.  Low and behold, the roof was fixed and she has never had another issue. 

However, she forgot that the problem was never the window and has been bad mouthing us since her job was done.  She even said that she probably didn't listen when the roof was fixed and (ha ha) that is why she forgot what happened (yes, this is what she said).  There is no issue now, nor has there been an issue since she had the roof done. 

Laughs ensued at the mom's house with the boss, mom & daughter sharing a beer.  Boss is fine, mom is fine, daughter is fine.  Me?  I'm still a little pissed off.  Insert sarcasm here:  Please don't feel the need to apologize to me.  I love it when customers call and accuse us of being rip-offs, bad mouthing our company for the last 10 years, and oh yeah, being a complete bitch to me over something that was fixed and happened well over 10 years ago.

However, I will still go out to your mom's in the spring to help her clean her screens as long as you're not there.

--Little Slave

 

Bookstore Black Friday Hell: Dirty Old Men, Entitleds, Crazies, and Bigots

I know it's been a while, but here I am, your faithful Book Wench, here with a few brief anecdotes from Wastings. 

Our Black Friday was an absolute hell, of course, but since I was stationed in Books and not on Front Counter I really didn't mind too much. Mostly I just wandered through my department and picked up after people and their spawn. There are trash cans at both the mall entrance and the street entrance of our store, as well as at all the registers, but I guess it's just too much to ask people to carry their empty Starbucks cups an extra fifteen feet. SIGH. Honestly, though, compared to what the people at the front were going through, I got off easy.

Just a few quick mini-rants: 

--The Dirty Old Men. There are five or six of them, they're all retired, and they all come in every single day to get their Hustler or Playboy or what have you. What distinguishes them from the other people who occasionally buy such things is their insistent and incredibly obnoxious behavior. Yes, I will show you where those magazines are for the fifth time today. No, I do not want to give you "recommendations," no, I cannot personally handle your transaction, and for the love of any and all gods, please stop trying to touch me. It's never outright groping (and if it ever crosses that line, I WILL break their wrist, job security be damned) but it's always uncomfortable, especially since it's often combined with such wonderful comments as "My granddaughter is about your age..." *pats my shoulder with a creepy stare*  If you went to the adult store down the road and did that, you'd be banned. Don't fucking try to do it here.

--Vanity Press Lady. My tiny little town has a great big artsy reputation, and every nut-slurping snowbird and their overly made-up wife fancies themselves a great writer or philosopher or what have you. VPL, however, takes it to the next level, insisting that we simply MUST carry her self-published book of shitty poetry, complaining when we tell her that we don't, trying to sell us copies that she then insists that we send to our corporate headquarters "because there must be someone who actually knows about great literature there," and generally acting like a diva. "BUT DON'T YOU KNOW WHO I AM?" You're a shriveled, bitter crone with her head so far up her own ass she no longer knows the difference between a fart and a burp. Mystery solved!

--The Amnesiacs. "I don't know what it's called, or who it's by, but can you find it for me?" Sure, right after Indiana Jones and I track down the Lance of Longinus and use it to stop Xenu from taking over the lost city of Atlantis. DEEP-FRIED CHRIST ON A POGO STICK WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE? You don't know if it's a book or a DVD or a CD? You can't even remember what it's about? Here, take this dog-eared copy of Twilight and get the hell out of my sight, if you don't know what you want, you're going to take whatever crap I want to give you. 

--The Exorcist. I am not religious, but I don't give a damn if you are, Mrs. Crusty, and I will happily show you to our massive section of Christian literature. That is where my customer service to you ends. It certainly does not cover you pointing at my completely harmless ankh necklace and shouting "Madre de Dios! You are possessed!" and then trying to get me to join you in prayer. In the middle of the fucking book section. While I'm still on the clock. My obvious discomfort and attempts to disengage politely were met with more pious shrieking, and apparently she complained to the associate on register that she can't come in here anymore since Wastings employs "damned souls."

And.... the Bigot. I got called out of Books and onto the register a few days ago, since the front counter associate couldn't be arsed to come in that evening. It's a weeknight, fairly quiet, until..... her. She walks up to my register and slams a couple of DVDs down on the counter. "I want a refund for these!"

I pull up her account, see she kept the movies for the whole week, and check the discs. They aren't scratched or dirty or otherwise unplayable. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but you kept these for the whole week, and they're in good condition. I don't think I can do anything for you, but let me call my manager over." I page Curmudgeon, and the minute I'm off the phone this crusty bitch starts ripping into me.

Apparently, this show is filthy and immoral and wrong and she tried to be open-minded, she really did, but she doesn't understand how anyone could watch this, and how she thought this show was about love and relationships but instead it's just filth--

I actually look at the discs for the first time. She had checked out the first two seasons of "The L Word."

There are very few things that will cause me to get genuinely angry with a customer. Pray for me? Fine, I really don't care what you and your sky fairy think of the state of my soul. Insult me? Water off a fucking duck at this point. Creep on me? You're getting politely shut down. Touch me? Again, a polite warning to cease. But do not ever, ever throw something at me, and do not ever, ever use me as a captive audience while you slander an entire demographic of people for no better reason other than that you're stupid and you think you can. 

"Ma'am, this show is about love and relationships," I tell her, in a tone of voice so utterly cold I'm surprised she didn't get fucking frostbite. 

"Well, women dating women, that's just unnatural, and it's wrong--" My attempt at reason is a tiny drop in her ocean of hate, quickly dissolved. I'm giving you the gist of what she was actually saying; I refuse even to type some of the utter crap that was coming out of her mouth.

At this point, Curmudgeon shows up, and tells her the same thing: she'd had the DVDs all week, they were in good condition, we couldn't refund her. Bigot leaves, still complaining, and the moment the doors swing shut behind her Curmudgeon turns to me and says possibly the greatest thing I have ever heard from a manager:

"That bitch doesn't deserve lesbians."

Stay strong, fellow slaves! There's more to tell of Wastings hell, but for the time being, I'm going to snuggle up with my bottle of Jack and drink until I wake up in a better world.

--BookWench

 

Dumbass Discount Rat Encounter Over IM

Trader Jack here, again.

I was originally going to put this down as a comment to Artsy-Fartsy tale of woe but I now realize it really deserves it's own entry.

As a bit of background, though I still have many stories from my time there, I've actually now left Flowering Valleys for a consultant position with a new affiliate of a well known computer hardware manufacturer. It's a considerable step up in both pay and responsibility, and while it is still mainly sales related I'm being relied upon to also handle some of the management work load as well as administration so I'm quite pleased with it all around.

The biggest plus to the job, however, is our boss has a much stricter attitude towards pricing and custies. Essentially he sets the prices, we're given a wiggle room if the customer wants to talk discounts but not much more than that. If a customer says our prices are too high or we're not being fair with our discounts then too bad, they can go look elsewhere for their stuff cause we've got plenty of other folk willing to play by our rules.

Thus far we've had very few problems with our clientele, until last month when I finally had to enact the above mantra with a Californian custy who was thus dubbed the Braindead Beach Bum (BBB).

The following conversation takes place over IM.

Braindead Beach Bum: Heyo, Trader what's up?

Me: Good morning! How can I help?

Braindead Beach Bum: Saw you had three NIB of *item model* advertised and wanted to see if I could get a quote, then reserve them.

Me: Certainly, those are going for about $1,395 each and I can place them on reserve as soon as I have a PO.

Braindead Beach Bum: Kay, bear with me then, dude.

I leave the chat window open and run a check on BBB's company. They haven't done business with us previously thus I'm going to need to set up an account for them.

Me: Also, as I see that you're a new client, could you send me a copy of your reseller's certificate and a short list of references from companies you've worked with previously?

An hour slowly clicks by without any response. Eventually my colleague, H, tells me he's gotten a request for the same items. Unfortunately, since BBB hasn't sent the purchase order yet I can't put them on reserve so I tell H to go ahead and quote.

Me: Also, as a heads up, my colleague just got a request for those same items. I'm really going to need a PO if you want to have them held for you.

30 more minutes click by, and then finally.

Braindead Beach Bum: Hey dude, when can you ship those out?

Me: I can ship them as soon as I have a PO, along with the other aforementioned documentation.

Braindead Beach Bum: k, can you do anything about the price? That's a little steep.

Me: Well, since you're buying all three I could add a bulk discount and drop the price to $1,210 each.

Braindead Beach Bum: Mmm, still steep. I was thinking more along the lines of $500 for each.

O_O
Me: I'm sorry but we can't discount that much on new stock.

Silence descends across cyberspace again. H eventually says he's got a PO for the items (strangely his client seems okay with our asking price), but is willing to defer to me since BBB called first dibs.

Me: My colleague just got the order for those items. Again I really am going to need the same from you if you don't want them to be sold to someone else.

More time passes. H says his custy needs the items shipped today. I wait another 30 minutes and then tell him to go ahead and process his order since the lack of response would indicate BBB is no longer interested. H gets approval for the sale, I go down to help him get the items from storage, leave for lunch and come back to update the inventory. By now several hours have passed and H goes out to get packing materials for the shipment. Literally upon his return my chat window blinks.

Braindead Beach Bum: Alright well I gotta leave soon, dude so I'll send the PO now. You can still ship today can't you?

Me: *thinking 'No...you have got to be kidding me.'*

Braindead Beach Bum: Oh and I'm still not digging your price. Get them down to $500 and all is well.

Me: *thinking 'You have GOT to be kidding me.' *writes* H sold those items two hours ago. When you didn't respond I thought you weren't interested any more.

Brainead Beach Bum: What? Dude, I had other stuff to do! Why didn't you hold them like I asked you to?

Me: Didn't you get my previous messages?

Braindead Beach Bum: Well yeah, but I thought you were bluffing. I mean come on, dude, no one actually pays four digits for that model do they?

Me: *not entirely sure how to respond, not that it matters as BBB immediately leaps back in with the following*

Braindead Beach Bumb: Never mind, just tell H I need 'em and get back to me when you have a tracking number.

Me: *after a minute of reminding myself to be polite* I'm sorry but I can't do that, BBB. He got the order and the approval to sell them. Per our policy the sale is his fair and square.

Braindead Beach Bum: But I got you the PO first!

Me: How long have you actually had the PO?

Braindead Beach Bum: Since this morning. I just wanted to wait till you agreed to my price before sending it.

O_O again.

Me: Send it over now.

*He sends it and I check it out*

Me: BBB, as I told you before, I can't drop the price to this amount. Plus, as I also stated before, I need your resellers permit and a reference list to get you set up with a shipping account.

BBB: I don't have time to do all that! Can't you just check the feedback on our site and take their word for it?

Me: I'm sorry but our policy states we need those two documents to do business with you.

Braindead Beach Bum: Well that's bull***t! I need those items tomorrow!

Me: I'm sorry but they're sold. Actually as I type this, H just finished packing them up and is wheeling them out to the post office.

BBB: Trader, my company is like one of the biggest in California! You do this for me, $600 each since you aren't good for $500, shipped overnight, and I can promise you a heck of a lot of business from us in the future!

Me: I'm sorry, but I told you what we needed to hold the items for you, and what our prices were this morning. You chose to wait till it was too late so there's nothing I can do for you now.

*BBB does not respond. After several minutes I close the chat window and get on with some paperwork...until said window rudely pops back into view again.*

Braindead Beach Bum: You're actually going to do this, dude? You're really going to turn down a perfect opportunity to land a major league client and thus cut yourself off from a reliable source of six figure sales??

Me: *thinking 'Yeah right bud, you can't even handle four figures* I don't know what else to tell you. Our owner wants to make profit and we wouldn't have been able to do that at your requested price. I'll be happy to help you out if there's something else in our stock that you need.

Again I get the silent treatment as BBB no doubt tries to think of a decent come back. Ten minutes later he finally comes up with the following carefully crafted witticism:

Braindead Beach Bum: WELL F**K YOU THEN!!!! (yes he actually bolded and italicized it)

BBB signs out, I save the chat log to send to my manager in case a complaint gets lodged, and then silently break my brain over the logic of the above. Seriously, in what region is it a sensible business practice to wait on a time sensitive deal till the other side finally panics and gives in to your demands (I'm guessing that's what he was hoping would happen)? Especially considering if he had just sent the damn PO to me when he got it he could have least bought himself more time to stall and negotiate (we'd never have agreed to his asking price, but further more that's the brilliant thing about electronic documents: you can go back and edit them if changes need to be made!).

Regardless his threats aren't going to matter jack in any respect. Even if we lost a deal with him there's still every chance we can sell to another rep in his company so we haven't cut ourselves off from anything, and if he tries to dissuade his colleagues from contacting us we've got the evidence to prove he's at fault.

The only downside is, if we DO eventually manage to make a sale and sign BBB's company on as a client I don't know if I'll be able to refuse him as easily if he tries to do business with us again....ah well, tis a bridge to be crossed at a later date.

--Trader Jack

 

 

Singing Drunk Custy Calls Motorcycle Showroom and Asks To Be Made a Star

Hello, RHU.

For some time now, I've been without my computer. The mother board is dying, but I have it back for the moment, and while I have that moment, I want to write out what I haven't been able to for a bit.

I had a woman who I believe was intoxicated call up around 10:30AM on a Sunday, (You know this is going to be weird right off), and I still can't help but ponder over what posesses people to make calls like this...and what possesses those around them to ALLOW it. Her name will be Drunk Idol, and you'll know why once we get there...

Ashy-Boy: Good morning, thanks for calling Famous Hairy-Dickson, this is Ashy-Boy speaking, how may I direct your call?

Drunk Idol: ...Why's...why's it famous? (This is part of our location's name, due to the previous owner.)

Ashy-Boy: Well, it's the largest Hairy-Dickson's on the East Coast, we have an enormous show-room and plenty of excellent sales planners to help you find exactly what you're looking for.

Drunk Idol: ...What is this again?

Ashy-Boy: Famous Hairy-Dickson's...? The motor-cycle dealer, ma'am.

Drunk Idol: ...Do you...do you make...people famous?

Ashy-Boy: I...believe that we can make you noticable, yes.

Drunk Idol: Oh...well...I wanna be famous. Can you help me?

Ashy-Boy: Maybe I can put you through to (lists departments)?

Drunk Idol: I just wanna...be famous, okay? 'S that so hard t' ask?

Ashy-Boy: I'm sorry, ma'am, if one of our departments can't help you, then perhaps you should try another store.

Drunk Idol: Oh...okay...g'bye.

We hung up, I swigged my orange juice and thought about puppies and rainbows smothered in bacon, but about fifteen minutes later...

Ashy-Boy: Good morning, thank you for calling Famous-

Drunk Idol: FFFAAAAMOUSSS I WANNA BE FAMOUSSS THEY MAKE YOU FAMMMOUS AATT...ATT HAIRYYYY...(unintelligable).

So I was serenaded for about five seconds, torn between laughing out-right and throwing in the towel entirely, as it was not even an hour into the eight hour shift I was working. Drunks before 11AM can't mean much for your day.

I finally pulled myself together and told her that as much as I liked her singing talents, we were a business and couldn't take these sorts of calls. I didn't hear from her again, but I did have a good laugh with some of the other employees about it. It could have been worse.

*    *    *    *

Before I forget, though, I want to also thank the employees working at my mother's favorite nail salon. I've mentioned my mom on here a couple times before. She's been sick for the past week ever since we met at the salon in question for some TLC. I was pulled out of my face waxing and led to the crowd of people around the small waiting area where she had gotten up to get some fresh air after becoming dizzy and unable to breathe while sitting and had not made it outside. She had collapsed on the floor and was starting to get re-oriented when I was shown to her, and she continued to have these spells through the entire process of her getting her nails done. Why she stayed and stuck it out is anyone's guess, but what really stood out to me was the way she was treated.

We've been going to this salon for a while, which I suppose helps, but the entire lot of employees was concerned for her, offering her water, towels, blankets, allowing her to lay down and being extraordinarily patient with her as she continued to get up and down. They were genuinely worried about her, and I'm glad they were, because I almost didn't go to the salon at all that day. If I hadn't, at least someone would have been there to see to her and make sure she got out all right. They even offered to take half off her total, but she refused, and we tipped her nail tech and my waxer extra for their trouble, since both of them came to her aid and were attentive to her first and foremost. That's a risk, it seems, from what I've read about some work places forbidding the employees take any action when it comes to those sorts of emergencies.

We're still not sure what's ailing her, but she and I agree that what the employees there did for her that day was generous. So thanks~

I guess that's about it, for now~ Thanks for sticking around. My secondary job is about to also make a huge leap: my co-writer and I are releasing our comic before the end of the year. It's an exciting period of time, but also busy. Who knows how it'll work out.

Catch Ya' Later~

--Ashy-Boy

 

Retail Hell Crazies of The Full Moon

From The Crankie Cashier:

RHU. You know you are in retail hell when you know the full moon has arrived because people have lost their freeking minds. 

Today at work I had many many crazy customers at the Giant Orange Box, and will share a couple with you.

The first I honestly thought was a joke, because I did not think anyone could really be this stupid.

Apparently I am naive. I was in charge of the self check out which is right next to  the indoor plant display. The display has an overhang of hanging house plants. As I stood there directly under the house plants a customer walks up and starts the following conversation.

Crusty: "Do you have any plants? I want some and cant find them anywhere!!!"

Me: "lol" (thinks customer is being nice and making a joke about the large number of house plants

Crusty: "I don't know what you think is so funny I am looking for a plant for my living room!" (glare of doom)

Me: "Um like those?" points at huge display part of which is literally hanging over the custy."

Crusty: "You all could make a clearer display."

That was the moment I knew it would be a long shift. But the topper was later with the person I will call Crazy Baby Lady.

I was standing in front of my register later in the evening when a customer with a baby carrier walks up to me and informs me that she forgot something in the car and would I watch her baby  while she goes and gets it.

What the hell is wrong with this lady?! For all she knows I eat babies after using them as a football.

When I looked at her like she had lost her mind she explained that it is cold outside. It's cool lady leaving your kid with a complete stranger is much safer than a little wind.

As I thought quickly to find a solution that was not likely to end in me getting sued or stuck with a baby for the rest of my life my knight in orange apron showed up. I shall call him Boss because he is one and it rhymes with his real name. He walked the customer out and got it for her. I was so relieved and thought that I was done with this irresponsible parent. Wrong again.

About 20 minutes later she walks through my line and the first words out of her mouth "What kind of discount can you give me?"

After quickly deciding not to tell her to fuck off or pay full price like everyone else I then spent 15 minutes describing a credit card deal. Which she then did not want. Ok fine lady you are ready to go I wont have to deal with you again because the next time I see you or that poor little sucker who you will probably lose by next week I am hiding. Nope wrong yet again. She had a question.

Her: "Why did that person in paint tell me to paint the walls before painting the trim?"
me"um because it is usually easier to paint the walls before the trim."

I then have to spend 15 minutes trying to find another way to explain this and eventually have to use a diagram. I hate people some days.

Good luck with all your crazies on the full moon.

--The Crankie Cashier

Queenie, the Dumbass Slayer: Savior of Attention Seeking Halloween Idiots

For all you Whedonverse fans, this reference will make sense.

In every generation, there is a Retail Slave.  He alone will stand against the custys, evil corporations, and the faces of dumbass people.  He is Queenie, the Dumbass Slayer!

Okay seriously I feel an asshat needs to be slain just for being dumbass.  Case in point happened this past weekend involving some weirdo on public transit just because this month is Slutoween. 

What is Slutoween, you say?  It is the time of year women have an excuse to hooch it up, get wasted, hook up with some Coyote Ugly, and regret their actions the next morning.  It is also the time of year that the general public become total douches taking all the fun out of a kid’s holiday.  Here’s the story.

I had to work during the weekend at the butt crack of dawn because my office slave job requires I prepare the registers for the store opening.  Now I am not a morning person so thanks to several cups of Java and energy drinks I was tweeking on some serious caffeine. 

Anyway, I left work in the late afternoon to go home accompanied by my galpals Mixie and Trixie (not their real names) who left early as well because the store was slow and their sales were low.  Since we work in the city, we take the public bus to avoid the price gouging of parking prices, gas, and traffic which is great if you want to chill on your way home.  Everything was fine until a passenger came on who I shall name Mr. Attention Seeker.

Let me explain Mr. Attention Seeker.  He meanders close to our seat looking like a possessed demon bearing fake monster fangs and growling at passengers.  Though I admire Mr. Attention Seeker’s good make-up job, I am not in any mood to deal with this idiot’s shenanigans especially when I’m dead tired.  He starts to growl at me and my friends and other passengers freaking out the little kids sitting nearby forcing me to turn into the superhero Queenie, the Dumbass Slayer!

Mr Attention Seeker: *Growl*  I’ll swallow your soul!

Queenie: Boy, puh-leeze!  You have to learn how to spit before swallowing.

Mr. Attention Seeker: *Growl* Are you afraid?

Queenie: Why should I be?  I live in a barrio.  Try walking down my neighborhood at midnight amid the sounds of gunshots.

Mr. Attention Seeker: *Roar* I’ll steal your soul!

(At this point, my sidekicks Mixie and Trixie come to my rescue.)

Mixie: *Shakes her water bottle.*  The power of this holy water compels you!  Go away!

Trixie: *Rolls her head around*  Look I’m can play possessed too!  *Growls* Your mother sucks cocks in Hell!  Now exorcise me!

Queenie: Somebody get me a stake or better yet a pocket rocket so I can kill this fool!

Mr. Attention Seeker: *Breaks character.* You guys are no fun.   You all suck!   Come on it’s Halloween.

Mixie: Whatever dude.  We’re not in the mood.

Seeing how Mr. Attention Seeker is getting nowhere with his antics, he arrives at his stop and gets off.  Queenie, the Dumbass Slayer has saved the day!  The other passengers cheer.

Passenger: Weren’t you scared at all with all those scary teeth?

Queenie: Nah, I’m a Retail Slave.  This is Halloween.  I’m use to seeing a bunch of wackos in the city.

It is true.  Working in the city has made me desensitized to the nutjobs around me.  Slutoween is not any different.  I’ve seen zombie protestors march around the city.  I’ve watched the homeless run around naked and defecate in public.  I’ve even seen Slutoween get even skankier every year with pasties and band-aids serving as a costume.  Still, when such horrible evil custy monsters come out of the woodwork it is Queenie the Dumbass Slayer to the rescue!

Batteries and accessories sold separately.  Action figures manufactured in China may contain lead poisoning.

--Queer Geek

 

American Sushi Bar Horror Story

From Aryante:

I previously asked for advice about a tip incident. And just to let everyone know, thank you for the advice, but Karma is out to kill me anyway.

Also, possibly my boss, but I'm not sure how serious she is about killing me, pending threat level, I touch on that at a later date. I work at a sushi bar, it's family owned and generally a lovely place. The customers are usually polite and civil, until two weeks ago, when Karma reared its ugly head.

A small back story: I have really, really, really....really bad social anxiety, it's bad enough that I can't talk to anyone that doesn't talk to me first, and even then, I'm going to panic. So, I took the waitressing gig as a method of forcefully dealing with the anxiety. And it has gotten better, but my limit is still very low. Like, four tables if they're all polite and talk first, kind of low. 

But two weeks ago, we had close to 60-70-entire building full of people. And a large part of the chaos was a table for 16, that upon arriving and until they left, spent most of their energy screaming at me.

First, because we can't sub fried rice in for white rice. Then, it was because their food was coming out, but not all at once. Next, they yelled because the food was still coming out, but not fast enough.

At one point, I was holding an order for salmon terriyaki, and woman that ordered it was yelling at my boss that her food still hadn't come out, that I was incompetent and couldn't do my job right. She turned around to point at me, saw her food and said "oh sweety, it isn't really your fault."

I'm southern enough to understand to phrase sweety, with that tone translates to "You're stupid, but don't spit in my food."  I had a woman get into my face about how the sushi would kill her unborn baby because her tuna wasn't cooked.

It was bad. Really bad. Bad enough, that I keep it to the basic "the waitress sucks at her job" complaints and spare everyone the grueling details. It was one of those groups that I will remember in fear for the rest of my life, and I know everyone here has those types of memories.

My boss, meanwhile, is helping me balance all the other tables, she cooking food with our one lone chef (That's why the food couldn't come out all together,) then she would pause and produce maki with the Sushi Chef. She's definitely super woman.

But when this table's check came, they argued almost 100 dollars off the bill, because I'm so incompetent. One of the womEn said that I looked like I was about to have an anxiety attack (then she monolouged about her psychology degree from many years ago) I went ahead and told all of them about my social anxiety. They all turned slowly towards me and started apologizing for the screaming  and the swearing and their rudeness. Aaand, they promptly left a $10 tip on a $200 meal. Oh, the days I'm glad I don't work for tips.

Then, last night, I came into work (2.5 minutes late to which Boss said she didn't care, but I did) and there's a table of three.

Sushi Chef hands me some sort of weird dish and says it for them. I hand it over, all well right?

No, they want low-sodium soy sauce. Which is what's on the table, because Americans as a whole use a ton of soy sauce. Boss said she'd feel like she was killing her customers if she put out regular soy-sauce. They proceed to tell me that I'm wrong.

Boss comes running over, because those are terrible words, and this man launchs in a tirade about how he and his wife have high blood pressure and must have low-sodium soy sauce.

So far, he's amusing when he thinks I care. But then he does the unforgiveable, he threatens my boss to sue her over soy sauce. The optional item. He was going on and on and on about how he would call his lawyer, and of course they'd want to sue, then she'd have to close her doors. And blah blah blah.

Now, I'm socially anxious, but I'm also territorial with my people, and my boss is one of my people. Soo, I got a little rude. I pointed out that we used a different brand than most other places, there's a difference in the curing process and that soy sauce is OPTIONAL. I wasn't holding a gun, he didn't need to use it.

Regretfully, he decided that he liked me ("because girls these days need to be brassy" he said) and they stayed for another hour. SO, he already had made me mad, but I realize that I the waitress had to deal with them since they stressed Boss out (she told me that she couldn't serve anything to them because of comments they'd made before I got there.) No problem, they continue eating, and drinking, and drinking. After the third bottle of sake, this man then makes the comment that women belong in the kitchen, serving a man. This is his second mistake. Then, he continues to say that a good Christian girl like me needs a man otherwise I won't make it in life, three strikes. He's Out. I'm not Christian, and I have a problem with people assuming that I am. I pointed this out and he said I was to burn at the stake, and please don't spit in my sake.

I'm not nice :(

He then starts with "well I don't want to pay the bill."

Me: "That's fine, you can work for 3.25 an hour and do dishes, You'll have worked your bill off in three days."

Him: "Well these woman can do dishes, their housewives.

Me: "And I come from a family of six and I can't put up with that nonsense"

Later...

Him: (Loudly to wife and other woman) "Maybe, I won't leave a tip since there wasn't any low sodium soy sauce" pause..."damn waitress isn't listening"

Me: "I'm listening, I only have to respond if it important."

And it continues like this for the rest of his meal. His wive and other woman thought I was amazingly witty and charming and kept telling me so. For some strange reason, he decided I was a good waitress and he issued the worst statement ever:

I'll. Be. Back.

And even worse, He got my name.

RHU, am I doomed? Or will the sacrifice of a small puppy, possibly a hellspawn, save me from that man?

Love,

--Aryante

 

Old Lady Hell: Custys Want To Create Their Own Layaway Plan

Fred's Photo Slut again and apparently, I am the holder of Fuck Meyer secrets. Yesterday was a crazy busy day for some reason. Maybe because it was Friday and people are starting to get the Christmas shopping buzz. Who knows.

So McGee and I are taking advantage of a short break between bursts of custys with some conversation. This doesn't last long as I have to greet an elderly woman and her sister when they enter the department. 

"Hey ladies! Anything I can help you with today?"

Older Sister: "Do you guys do layaway?"

"No, we stopped doing layaway a long time ago. I think I was in middle school when Fuck's stopped doing it."

OS: "HellMart is doing layaway this year."

"Yeah, I saw that on TV. I can get you an application for the Fuck Meyer's Rewards Visa."

OS: *dumb look* "We're just going to look around."

"Alright, let me know if you have any questions."

McGee and I continue our conversation and talk about the pros and cons of layaway. When I am again approached by Older Sister.

OS: "Why don't you do layaway?"

"I don't know. They stopped doing it a long time before I started working here. Probably an inventory issue."

OS: "Well, HelllMart and KMart do it. I really wanted to put a Kindle on layaway."

"Yeah, I'm aware of this, but we do not."

OS: "You can't hold something for me for a few weeks?"

"No, I can only hold something until closing tonight."

OS: "Looks like I'll be shopping at HellMart then. You're losing business now"

"OK, have a good afternoon." *cue eye roll*

I was half tempted to yell for McGee, GRAB THE CONFETTI AND RELEASE THE BALLOONS! SHE FIGURED US OUT!!! SHE KNOWS ABOUT OUR SUPER SECRET LAYAWAY!! PUT A KINDLE AND A 55" 3D TV IN OUR SUPER SECRET LAYAWAY FOR THIS CLEVER OLD FOX!!! SHE IS TOO WISE AND DESERVES A SPOT IN OUR LAYAWAY PROGRAM!

26 Days until Black Friday...let's keep our sanity, fellow RHU's.

Cheers,

Fred's Photo Slut

Karmic Retail Hell Tale: Tantrum-Throwing Bookstore Custy Illegally Parks and Gets Comeuppance

Bookstore Slave with a story relished by retail slaves the world over as a "BWAHAHAHA!" story.

Douchie McPorche swaggers through the front doors to retrieve a book.

Douchie: I have a book put on hold under Douchie.

Me: I'm sorry sir, I can't seem to find it.

Douchie: I called here ten minutes ago and the lady said she had it in her hand.

I call Info, because sometimes it happens where the hold doesn't actually make it across 30 feet of floorspace to registers where holds are. It happens for a myriad of reasons and we don't blame them for this since it's a quick call to resolve.

There were no holds waiting for a trip to Registers. No one remembers talking to Douchie. No one recalls handling a book of that title.

Douchie gets agitated: I called here and the lady had it in her hand! She said it would be under Douchie! Her name was Catherine.(Name changed)

Me: Er, we don't have a Catherine working at our store. Are you sure you called us and not [other P named city] or Noble Barney bookstore? They're right next to our numbers in the Yellow Pages.

Douchie: NO!  I CALLED HERE! Hurry up and find my fucking book! My Porche is parked in front of your store doors! I'm blocking three cars in so just hurry the fuck up!

I'm stunned. This dude's balls are so big they're dragging on the floor, I swear.

Me: Sir, I highly advise you to park your car legally in our parking lot rather than risk a ticket. Security patrols every few minutes.

Douchie: I don't want my Porche to get a door ding. So hurry up and find my book!

I struggle not to knock my own head off with an epic facepalm. Info, either overhearing this yelling or being awesome customer service people, call me up to say that 1) they have searched for the title and not found it in our database, confirming that he didn't call us, and 2) that the book is indeed on hold at Noble Barnes, two miles down the road.

I relay this info to him and he is adamant that it is in fact THIS store he called and he wants his goddamn book now becuase his porche is illegally parked and he's not moving until--

Cue the beeping of a tow truck outside our doors.

Douchie: SHIT!

He bolts out the door and a yelling fight ensues between Douchie, Security --who happens to be writing Douchie a ticket-- and the tow truck driver. Douchie returns several days later to scream at our managers because it's OUR fault that his illegally parked Porche incurred a ticket and nearly being towed away. He is subsequently thrown out by security.

That's all for now,

--Bookstore Slave

 

Furniture Store Custy Has Ridiculous Complaint And Gets Told

Angie gets a Retail Balls Award for not putting up with a bloodsucking custy's ridiculous complaint:

Hi, It's Angie stuck in furniture store hell.

Short rant here.

So on Saturday a middle aged woman approaches me and wants to know why the ladies room smells so bad.

Gee..I don't know since I am not in there but I go check it out. I walk in and I notice someone is in a stall, from the smell of things, working on a number two.

I leave and the middle aged woman is right in my face. Well? She says, Why?

I tell her my findings. Someone is in the stall using the toilet and most likely that is the source of the odor.

You should do something about that! She tells me. I say that we cannot control peoples bodily functions, maybe if she could wait a few minutes after the person is done.

Oh! She says, I don't have to go to the bathroom, I just wanted to know what the smell was!

I tell her off really good. So you just go around smelling bathrooms that you don't even need to go into? Look how busy the store is and your bothering me with this? Lady is there something wrong with you?

She storms off pissed as hell.

I was worried she would complain about me but she didn't.  Damn..its never going to end with these idiots is it?

Over and Out...

--Angie

 

Waiting on Monster of the Bride

Hello again RHU!

A few weeks ago I posted a story about an Auntzilla, well this one involves a Momzilla! Here goes!

Recently, I received a call from an irate custy who ranted about a dress order she had made. Apparently this was suppose to be a Mother of the Bride dress that she was going to wear for her daughter’s wedding that was to happen in a few months.

"Hello Retail Hell, how can I serve you?"

"I’m really upset! I ordered a Mother of the Bride dress for my upcoming daughter’s wedding and it hasn’t arrive yet!" She roars.

"I’m sorry about that. Let me look into this," I tell her. I do some digging and find out some info for her.

"Miss, the dress you ordered is being specially ordered. It will arrive in four weeks. Will this be an inconvenience because we can cancel your order and find something suitable in time for your daughter’s wedding?"

"No, no," she says calmly. "I really want THAT dress! How come it takes so long?"

"It is a limited edition item," I explain to her. "The manufacturer only made a small amount from the factory as a seasonal purchase. The company is sold out I’m afraid but it looks like we had to special order it for you that is why it takes four weeks for delivery."

"That is fine," she tells me. "Just call me when it arrives so I can pick it up."

"We certainly will," I tell her. *Hangs up.* 

(One week later. Phone rings.)

"How come no one called me that the dress is here?" the custy yells.

"It is has only been one week Miss," I tell her again. "It is a special order that takes up to four weeks to arrive. If this is too long, we can help you find another dress to wear for the wedding."

"No, no," she replies. "I want THAT dress. Just call me when it arrives." *Hangs up.*

(Second week. Phone rings.)

"Okay now I really mad!" She shouts on the phone. "No one is calling me that the dress is here!"

"Miss, I told you that is special order that will arrive now within two weeks since you last called," I tell her. "Look this dress won’t arrive until that time. Why don’t we get you a different dress or I can cancel the order and refund your money."

"No, no," she protests. "I really want that dress. Just call me when it arrives!" *Hangs up.*

(Third week. Phone rings.)

"This is ridiculous!" The custy is livid. "What kind of business are you running? No one is calling me about my dress order arriving! I’ve talked to six managers in your store and they keep telling me that the dress is not there yet? I want answers!"

"Miss, you talked to six different managers and the answer is still the same." I reiterate. "The dress will be delivered in one more week because it is being specially ordered for you."

"Let me see what I can do," I sigh.

I phone in the Special Ordering department to see the progress of this dress and do you know what I discovered? THIS BITCH CALLED THEM AND CANCELLED HER ORDER! THE BITCH IS PLAYING MIND GAMES WITH US! Oh now I’m pissed so I phone Momzilla back.

"Hello," she answers in her fake sweet voice.

"Miss, I just called the Special Ordering department." I tell her. "They informed me you called them and cancelled your order so obviously it is going to take longer for this dress to arrive."

"What!?!" She screeches. "That’s a lie! No I didn’t! I need for you to reorder it so I can have the dress in time for my daughter’s wedding! You have to reorder it again!"

"Let me get this straight," I flatly tell her. "You want the dress after all? But you cancelled it!"

"I don’t care!" She snaps. "Just get me that dress and get to me fast!" *Click.*

In the end, we reorder the dress again for rush delivery and receive it. Momzilla gets her dress even though it took EXACTLY four weeks of waiting for it to arrive. I feel bad for the future groom since he is marrying into the family with crazy Mother-In-Law who enjoys playing mind games with people. Run buddy run!

--Queer Geek

 

RHU POLL: What is the Stupidest Thing A Drunk Custy Has Asked You?

Hey RHU!

Long time reader and all that jazz, feel free to call me HyperLink, since my name's Link and I work at a 24 hour L.A.N Cafe (It's not retail as such, but lots of custy service and we sell snacks and things as well, so near enough's close enough)

I work the night shift every now and then, but this particular story is about the afternoon shift.

I was wandering around the store, tidying up after the piggy custys (These guys come in to play games for HOURS on end, and while I have nothing against that, I have no idea how one person can make so much mess!) when a bunch of rowdy kids rock up at the counter and start leaning over the counter.

Now, my store can get pretty loud, if you've ever watched a hardcore gamer run through a raid in WoW you'll know what I'm talking about, but these kids were leaning over the counter. Considering the level of security at my store (None!), this is a
definite no-no. So I waltz up to them and in my happy-go-lucky-customer service-voice ask them what I can do for them.

It's around this point in time I realize that these guys would be no older than 15, and each and every one is drunker than should be physically possible. We get a few drunks in our store, and for the most part they're a little bit louder than normal and tend to buy a lot more food, so we sort of profit because of it. But these kids looked like they were about to lose their lunch.

A few sexist and personal comments were thrown around, and that was fine (I'm what you call genderfluid, so I'm used to copping shit about being a lesbian or whatever, it's not an issue for me.) But then the leader of the group just keeps asking if we're a blockbuster.

Now, from what I can gather, we don't have blockbusters where I come from, so straight away I'm like *facepalm* and I know this is going to be a long and brain-goo-ifying conversation.

It pretty much went like this:

Customer: "Is this blockbuster?"

Me: "No."

Customer: "I'm pretty sure you're a blockbuster. I need to return this..."

*hands me a batman VHS*

This is the point where the geek in me had to resist just taking the VHS off them (VHS, not DVD, so I knew they were just trying to make trouble) and charge them a fifty dollar late fee and pocket the cash. But my boss was standing directly behind me.

Me: "I'm sorry guys, we're an internet cafe. I can't help you."

Customer: "But... I need to return this to a blockbuster."

Me to friend: Do we even have blockbusters in Australia?

Friend: "I don't think so... '

Customer: "But... You're a blockbuster. '

This went on for a good 20 minutes.

So I ask you RHU, what's the stupidist thing a drunk customer has asked you?

--HyperLink

 

Optometry Hell: Crazy Lady Turns N.A.T.

Dear RHU,

I am an avid fan of the website and after some of my custy encounters it's nice to read that other retail slaves have it just as bad!

You can call me eyeSlave. I work in a well known retail optometry practice who have branches all over the world. 

I simply must share a crazy custy experience. I will refer to her as "Off Her Meds" (or OHM)

This pedantic, over-entitled custy must have had some form of multiple personality or social disorder. Basically, here's what went down:

Off Her Meds comes in and I spend AN HOUR AND A HALF with her choosing two pairs. She's nice as pie. After going over her needs and carefully discussing her requirements I'm happy that we have found the best frames for her. Great, job done, on to the next thing.

A week later both pairs of specs are ready. OHM comes in to collect them and as soon as she tries on one pair she declares "No, these won't do". I ask her what the problem is.

OHM: They have gaps down the sides of the lens, they will let in too much sunlight

Me: This is the design of the frame, they were clearly like this when you chose them

OHM: How are these suppose to protect me from the sun??

Me: These are optical frames, they do not have the coverage or wrap to be used effectively as sunglasses...

OHM: I DONT WANT THESE.

Okay.... now we have a "30 day no questions asked" refund policy. I ask her if she would like to exchange for a new pair (bearing in mind all optical lenses are custom made to order for a particular frame, so we were going to have to bin the lenses and start again). She decided that yes, she would pick a new pair.

This time I spend an hour with her looking for a new frame. All the while she is making snide comments to me about our awful range, ridiculous prices and bad selection. I smile and bear it gracefully. She can't find anything she likes on display so I produce some extra stock we have sitting out back. These frames just happened to be at a lower price point. She notices this very quickly and tells me that I am "dishonest and underhanded for not displaying this cheaper stock." I explain to her we are a luxury brand and prefer to use our display space for premuim, quality product.

We choose the new frames and she then decides she is entitled to a discount. I explain to her that I cannot give her any further discount as I had already done her 2nd pair of specs for HALF PRICE. She looks at me like I have two heads and says she never would have brought the second pair had they been at full price.

She then decides a simple exhange is not good enough and demands a full refund for the deposit paid for the rejected specs and then PAYS ME AGAIN for the deposit on the new pair....  I process this ridiculous request and out comes the standard computer generated receipt. Of course, this is not good enough for her and she insists that I make her a detailed payment letter on company letterhead.... which I obligingly do.

Jump forward another week, the new pair is ready. I have taken the liberty to pre-generate the final reciept for her (to her specific requirements) to save any hassle this time.

Do you know what that bitch did?

Well, as I stepped out to the workshop to make the final fitting adjustments, she TOOK THE RECEIPT out of my file and put in it her bag. Then when I return, she produces the reciept and says "look I've paid". This was the absolute snapping point for me.

I looked her in the eye and said "No, you just took that out of my file. The balance is $xxx. Cash or card?"

She begrudingly paid and left the store with more complaints about overpriced products. 

Stay strong!

-- eyeSlave

 

Discount Rat Wants Employee Discount

Hi, It's Angie, in furniture store paradise.

A PJ (Pushy Jerk) comes into the store today and decides to purchase a clearance lamp.

He approaches me and tried to get me to give him the lamp cheaper.

Why?

Is it damaged or otherwise less than perfect?

No he wants a discount because he says it's a gift for his wife and she won't use it that much.

That affects the price how??

It doesn't so I tell him no.

Oh well then, maybe I could help him out and buy it for him with my employee discount?

I tell PJ, that I can't, I could get fired, plus my discount is barely anything only ten percent.

He leans in close to me, nobody would know, it's between you and me.

I point up to the ceiling to the cameras.

You could meet me somewhere and I will give you the money and then we meet again later so I can get the lamp, he says. We don't have to do it all at once, you could meet me tomorrow.

I still refuse and manage to get away from him.

NOW, you all must be wondering that must be a really expensive lamp to make it worth all the running around for a ten percent discount.

That would make sense right?

Nope, the lamp was $47. Less than $5 savings.

I got a good laugh when I was telling the store manager about it. He said I should have told him I could do it for a ten dollar charge.

Hope the weekend goes by fast for us all..

--Angie

 

RHU Advice: How Do you Deal With Crazy Custys Related To Coworkers?

From Backroom Bitch:

How do you deal with a coworker's wife who is a blatant crusty?

This needs a little background before I get to the goods so story time it is.

I work at the Bullseye as Backroom/Instocks, which translates into working directly with flow team and guests alike. My coworker, Fred*, is a little odd. By odd I mean he mumbles to himself and seems scatterbrained but he sure as hell busts his ass for that paycheck. He works two jobs to support his seemingly large family and is an honest man.

His wife however... she's a nutcase. So much so that she deserves her own paragraph.

Fred's wife, or FW, is just crazy. Flow team (which Fred is on) starts at 4am. FW will sleep in their car from 4 to anywhere between 6 and 9am depending on if she's picking up her stepdaughter who also works with us or waiting for Fred's lunch. She insists on Fred sitting with her in Food Ave while he eats his lunch. There hasn't been a single day I haven't seen her shopping in the store. She also forces the pharmacy to ring her out, 99% of the time she isn't picking up a prescription. Doesn't sound to awful yet, right?

Today I was working Instocks. I was in the hair care aisles with my coworker going through the task list. FW comes through with her stepdaughter, incessantly bitching that we MUST carry some coconut oil hair product.

My coworker and I both try to help them find it, but FW can't remember any detail other than coconut oil. Why is she so upset over a hair product? Oh, her hair's a tangled rats nest, with a hair tie in it, and her real daughter wouldn't detangle it for her.

Seeing as she "can't bend that far"(really bitch? You sleep in a fucking car seat, try a bed and see how far you can bend) it's the end of the world and if they don't leave with the coconut oil she'll have to hack off the rats nest, etc.

Alright, still no big deal. I suggest maybe in our newly expanded grocery section because we carry about 8 different types of olive oil now, so maybe we sell coconut oil.

Then FW starts to get EXTREMELY loud and demeaning with her stepdaughter, because SHE, an overnight door guard for the remodel, should know where all product is on the floor.

This starts to hit a nerve, I don't like people who demean their children in public, and I don't like seeing coworkers berated, especially by their own family.

My coworker starts suggesting other products that will help detangle, even going as far as suggesting cooking oil of any kind because it's cheaper.

That's not good enough for FW at all and she continues her incessant bitching all the way to grocery, where I can still hear her. Whether or not she left with her precious hair miracle product, I don't know. I do know that this was the most unpleasant part of my Monday.

I see Fred about 15 minutes later, visibly angry, and I think I know why.

So here's my question RHU, after going above and beyond my normal guest service (I shouldn't be allowed on the salesfloor, I'm that awful), should I ever help her again?

Do I ever try to stand up for one of my coworkers while they're being publicly humiliated?

Or do I just brush this off as another crusty experience and try to avoid FW at all costs?

I don't want to seem nosy, but who the fuck treats their child like absolute garbage in front of their coworkers?

I feel so bad for Fred because everyone knows who his family is and I find this embarrassing.

Thanks guys,

--Backroom Bitch

Checkout Lane Drama: Custy Not Thankful For One Slave's Attention To Service

Twiztidlette here again!

Things have been pretty decent at my place of employment recently, especially since the giant PITA (pain in the ass) sale is over and done with...at least until January. I've had many of our regulars stop in recently, and it's just put me in such an awesome mood at work.

So of course, someone had to fuck that up for me, right?This is actually a 2-in 1-story, featuring-you guessed it,-TWO custys!

Our store has a super lenient return policy, and as such, we have people who return LOTS of stuff. The custy who came in today is a serial returner. NO ONE returns as much stuff as she does. To top it off, her returns usually come with various,long winded excuses, and no receipts.

Serial returner (SR from here on out) comes up to my register with two bags of crap.

SR: ''I'd like to return this and this, and then these and these I want to exchange so I can pick up this and this instead and blahblahblahwhydoesshealwaysdothis."

Me: ''Ok, let's take a look at what you've got."

She actually has receipts this time 0.0 ..Unfortunately, as I'm trying to figure out what it is she wants to exchange, and what she wants to flat out return, she figures it's time to start explaining why she needs to return everything. Great.

I can't figure out the best way to go about the return, as one of the items is actually one she purchased after returning a different item, so I call my manager to the register. While we're figuring this out, I notice another woman come up to the second register and put her order down.

Me: (To manager) ''Do you want me to open the second register to help this other woman?''

Manager says no, it's been a super slow day,and she's not trying to open a second register unless we desperately need it. So I tell the other customer(O.C.) I'll be right with her. She looks at me, and just kind of nods slightly.

We're still having trouble with SR's order, so after another minute or so I ask again if I should open the second register, because at this point I can tell this is going to take...well,too damn long.

This time the manager says yes, so I slide over and open the second register, apologizing to O.C. for the wait. She doesn't say anything. Ok, whatever. I ring up her purchase, and the whole time, she's looking at her phone. I tell her the total, and she still doesn't say shit.

I repeat the total to her, still nothing.

Instead she slowly, deliberately types something into her phone and continues staring at it. Now I'm thinking 'she's totally doing this on purpose to fuck with me for her having to wait.'

She finally stops typing and looks up at me. Just...stares.

I tell her the total a third time, and she finally slides her total due, minus a dollar over to me. She then pulls out the final dollar,and slams it on top of the other stack.

At the end of the transaction I give her her bag and wish her a good day. She gives me this barely-a-smile and saunters off.

I'm sorry, Miss Impatient. Didn't realize you were sooo damn busy you couldn't wait a couple minutes for a register to open.

On  a side note, I got a call at work from a man asking a) if there was a limit to how often he could put on a certain kind of lotion we carry,and b) what the phrase 'we do not test on animals' meant. REALLY??! I should have told him the lotion police would be coming to measure his lotion usage, and that we didn't test our bodycare by dumping it on my dog -.-

And on that note, it's time to watch The Kids in the Hall...Dave Foley is doing the Dr. Suess bible, and if you haven't seen it,you need to, NOW.

--Twiztidlette out

 

Memories From Hell: Crazy Lawyer Lady Encounter At Software Store

From JAH:

Hello RHU!

I used to work retail but got out of the game about twelve years ago and now have the honor sitting on my ass, reading RHU when I should be working.

I worked for the software store Babbage's (which I can name since they went Chapter 11 and I went through the same fun that Borders retail slaves just went through... in other words, "No. All sales final" <insert internal laughter>).

Anyhow, one of my favorite customer story is about a lawyer who would shop at my store. She was apparently some kind of fundamentalist paranoid... here's some of the better stories...

She had asked about PC strategy games Populous (this goes back many years) and when I showed it to her, she went on a rant about the game. Now, in Populous you play a god/deity and you can raise and lower land, cause disasters, influence your followers, and send them to war with another tribe. It was one of the first God Games along with Sim City.

Anyhow, the lady went on a rant about how the game was specifically designed to teach kids that it's ok to crush people who have a different belief system than you... I tried to reason with her that it was just a game and than it wasn't even available for popular gaming systems for kids (like Nintendo at that point in time - and the PC didn't exactly appeal to the kids at the time with its 16 color graphics).

She told me with measured confidence that I was wrong and that she had been at a conference (in Europe) where the game designers told everyone attending that it was, indeed, intended as a tool to crush non-believers (Christians? Muslim? Taoists? I don't know). And that it was part of the one world government conspiracy... or perhaps the New World Order. I wound up just nodding along.... and then she bought the game! WTF? Was she going to burn it or play it? Who can say.

Another encounter... there was an old game called Spirit of Excalibur that had a cover with a picture of the sword in the foreground and a knight with antlered helm and fur-trimmed gauntlets looming over it (lightning effects included - wikipedia link: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spirit_of_excalibur). It was ominous but it was ultimately just a game about Arthurian legend (which was, as we know, a mix of Christian and pagan religions). The lawyer lady insisted that it was Satanic and when I tried to point it was, in fact, Pagan, and there was a difference.... well, she'd have none of that. She went on a mini rant about how all these games have evil covers and are causing kids to turn to Satan... She didn't buy the game this time. 

Final encounter worth noting... she was buying some (non-Satanic) software and we were using a check confirmation system that would take info from the check and do some kind of telephonic confirmation as to whether it was a "safe" to take a check. Trust me... no one enjoyed this process and it caused no end of temper tantrums from customers who were declined.

Well, the lawyer lady was declined and she went off on the usual rant... The only thing I could do was hand her the business card of the check confirmation company and suggest she call them to clear up whatever was red-flagging her account. She insisted on using our store phone (whatever, just make it quick) and call them up, eyes burning like hot holy death.... when she couldn't settle the manner, she looked at the business card again and realized the area code was for Atlanta... and she told me that that's where the Scientologists have a major center that's right next to the check confirmation service.

And since she's been suing the Church of Scientology, of cousre they have been using their power to smear her name with the local check confirmation service.

Of course. 

Not that the Scientologists aren't good at suing people... but there's only so much persecution I'm gonna believe.

--JAH

 

Bullseye Hell: Imaginary Missing Child Alert

From Eustace:

Holy shit, have I got a story for you!

All hell broke loose at the Bullseye the other day.

This whole thing starts out normal enough.  A woman (let's call her Scatterbrain) comes into the store and stops by my service desk to check the balances on a few giftcards she had and to ask where the school supplies were.  (Note: when she did this, she was alone.)

After I check the balance and point her in the right direction I ask Blonde Tigress to watch the desk while I take my overflowing cart of red defectives back to the compactor.  I get sidetracked by a few custys needing to do returns so by the time I am on my way to the compactor it has been about 25 minutes since Scatterbrain left the service desk.  On my way back up to the front I hear "Code yellow" called over the walkie and Scatterbrain screaming from the checklanes.

For those who are unfamiliar, a code yellow is for a lost child and we all have to stop what we are doing to look for said child.  Since I don't have my own walkie and missed the description of the child I go back to the service desk and ask Blonde Tigress what the description was so I can join the search for the kid.

Meanwhile, Scatterbrain is pacing up and down the checklanes, screaming the kid's name, crying and generally upsetting all the other guests.  When I get to the service desk and ask for the description all I get is "A nine year old boy wearing a read shirt and khaki pants".....I pause, trying to decide if this was a coincidence or if we are just getting trolled by this woman.  But she seems incredibly upset so I go to search for the kid all the same.

We are under code yellow for almost half an hour before it gets canceled.  I searched EVERYWHERE for this kid.  In toys, inside all of the plastic storage, behind blankets and pillows, in the boxes for rugs.  Everywhere.  In this process I ran into a TL and he said that he had helped the lady TWICE tonight and she was alone both times.  I ask if anyone has checked her car, and they have with no results.

When I hear that it was canceled to go back to the service desk to check in with Blonde Tigress who proceeds to tell me that the LOD was checking the video from the cameras in the store and had come down to say it was time to call the cops.  After the police were mentioned, Scatterbrain said "Oh, wait, I left him at home," and then went and got a pretzel from Food Ave.

She then proceeded to leisurely finish her shopping while eating her pretzel.

WHAT THE FUCK.  You FORGOT YOUR KID AT HOME!?  You forgot your kid at home, then forgot you left him at home, caused a scene at a retailer, upset a bunch of other people and then just went about business like nothing happened.  I would have been embarrassed and/or had rushed home to the kid I left unattended.

When the food slave girl came to the service desk to QMOS her out of date stuff she told me that Scatterbrain smelled like she drank an entire liquor store.  So she came out here drunk and has a kid at home?  Who does that?  If there is a worst parent award, I know just the nominee.

My theory is that she doesn't have a kid and just wanted attention.  Seriously?  A 9 year old boy wearing red and khaki?

For the rest of the night and the next two days I had guests asking if we ever found the kid.  I saw multiple looks of shock when I said "She left him at home and forgot."

So what do you think fellow slaves?  Does the kid exist?

--Eustace

 

Return Hell: Custy Thinks Service Plan Means Exchange For New One

Eustace here. I just HAD to share this little nugget with you all.

I'm still slaving away at the service desk due to a "lack of instocks hours." as they tell me.  Tonight was especially hellish.  About 2 hours into my shift our printers go offline.  That means I can't defect out damaged things, or print clearance tickets for items that are returned and have gone clearance. 

As a result, I had a giant pile of stuff that needed to be defected out by the time we went back online after my lunch.  While the printers were down, two of my registers crashed when I had a sizable line of guests and so the people who came to help me out couldn't use the two main registers because I had rebooted them and they take like 20 minutes to boot up.

But these two women were the cherry on top of today's shit sundae. 

I was helping a guest print a registry when suddenly out of nowhere a swarm descended upon the service desk (like no lie, 6 people all came at the same time out of nowhere) and the first in line where these two elderly women.  They had a DSi that one of them had purchased for their grandson and the sound had stopped working so they brought it to our electronics department to see if it was just something that they didn't understand or if it was actually broken. 

Okay, I get that.  They had brought their receipt and wanted to at first exchange it using that.  The problem was that they had purchased it in March (WAY beyond the 90 days) so I told them that I couldn't use the expired receipt.  They had purchased a 2 year service plan for it (key word here: service plan)  and they wanted me to exchange it for them using the service plan.

This, my friends, is where the shit hit the fan.

I explained that it was a service plan, so they had to call the number listed in the service plan folder or visit the website and that they'd be sent a pre-paid box to send it in for repair, and I also explained that Nintendo also had a warranty that they could utilize as well. 

Their reaction? 

"YOU'RE KIDDING ME! You are the WORST!  I could go to the game store in the mall and they would exchange it no questions asked!  I'm never buying here again and I'm telling my friends not to buy here!  You are so difficult to do exchanges with!  I always have problems doing exchanges and returns here!" 

I apologized to her and she said "Don't say you're sorry!  It's the truth and I'm going to tell it!"  and I said "Well okay then, but I unfortunately cannot help you with your problem item because it is past 90 days and the stores themselves don't run the service plans." 

They stormed out and left me to deal with the long line of people that was unfortunate enough to have been stuck behind their cranky asses.

Since I'm pissed off enough about this let's break down all the things she said, and how they are so, so very wrong.

1.  If you went to the game store in the mall (if it is the one I'm thinking of) they have a stricter return policy than hours and probably would have sent you away as well and laughed as much and maybe even more at you on their break than I did.

2.  If you think it is so much easier to return something to the game store in the mall why didn't you just fucking shop there and saved me the headache of your crochety self.

3.  SERVICE PLAN=sending merchandise in to get it repaired.  Do you know how to read? I submit that you do not, and therefore wasted both of our time by being a fucking imbecile and not reading the SERVICE PLAN that you purchased.  Nowhere was the word "replacement" on there.

4.  Your receipt was expired.  Anything past 90 days is NOT OUR PROBLEM and the policy is to refer you the manufacturer anyway.

5.  For every one of you crusty bitches complaining about the return policy, I have 10 decent human beings telling me how fast and easy it was because they had their receipt or credit card and was returning their merchandise in a timely manner.

6.  I can probably guess that the reason you have so many problems returning things is because you are in fact a shitty returner.  I am willing to bet that you attempt returns with expired receipts or no receipt at all, have visibly used merchandise with no tags or barcodes and that while you are attempting to operate outside of policy you are berating and bitching at the poor slave trying to help your spinster ass return their old ass shit that we no longer carry.  And to top things off, you seem like that kind of bitch who writes checks at the express lane.  Fuck you.

Later on my break, the electronics guy was taking his break at the same time and he told me that they had been just as mean and cranky to him about the broken DSi while he was trying to help them.  Where in your shrunken excuse for a brain does it click that it is totally acceptable to be mean and cranky to somebody who just happens to work at a store that happened to sell you something that probably broke because your grandson spilled something on it? 

I understand being upset that something that you spent a lot of money on happens to stop working, but I would never go so far as to take it out on other people.  There are more healthy, constructive outlets for those feelings.  For example, lately I have been turning my horrible crustys into Sims on the computer and then building a 1'x1' room around them.  Retribution in a way that doesn't harm others.  Except for the Sim, but they aren't real.

Thank you for listening, and being supportive.

-Eustace

RHU POLL: Have You Ever Saved A Retail Slave From a Nightmare Custy?

Hey, it's Tea Queen.

So far all is well on the iJump front. They are giving me weekend and that's really all I can handle right about now. So I'm happy where I am. I started volunteering with the local rape relief shelter and I am really enjoying that. I am in school to become a music therapist and I am hopefully going to specialize in women's issues, so the long term plan is to volunteer at this shelter and find women who need help and try and give them access to emotional support beyond the shelter.

However this is not what I want to talk about today. Today I have a story from my partner, who works in Sears. Since he works in a very nice neighborhood, he doesn't get many custy encounters (lucky bastard). To say he has never had custy experiences would be flat out wrong, since he used to work for a grocery store that was very silly to say the least. But today I'm here to share his experience of how he was saved by another customer.

This story has three characters. My Partner (MP), Dumb Crusty (DC) and Awesome Dude (AD) and it goes a little something like this:

My partner is at the desk in Mens wear, where he works. For those of you who dont know sears, they have tills in each section instead of all the tills in one area. So sales associates also run the tills. He is ringing a lady through when she says...

DC: I have two shirts that are exactly the same, why is one clearance and the other not?

MP: I'm sorry but I actually don't know the reason for that. I am not in charge of pricing or deciding what does or doesn't go on clearance.

At this point, AD lines up behind DC.

DC: Well why don't you know? You should! You work here so you should know!

MP:.... Well Im sorry you feel that way but I don't know.

DC: You're lieing. Tell me why this shirt isn't on clearance.

AD: Lady, he's said he doesn't know. Just because you think he should doesn't mean he does. Back off"

At this point, Dumb Crusty glares at Awesome Dude and finishes her transaction without another word. After she leaves, AD mentions that he also works in retail, so he knows how annoying customers can be. They then proceeded to brofist.

So guys, have you ever been saved by another retail slave off duty?

Or have YOU ever saved someone from being the target of a crustys rant?

--Tea Queen