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January 2010
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March 2010

Jit Flexes Her Retail Balls For Charity

Balls2 Wow! So many Retail Balls Awards this week. The Slaves of the Underground are not taking shit off fucked up custys. Now Jit is getting a Retail Balls Award for an rude bitch that had it comin:

So this may be my own stupid fault, or the ignorance of the customer, but I'll let you be the judge of that, neh?

My store is collecting donations for March of Dimes. We collect for various charities, and it's one more question to tack onto the many we're expected to roll off our tongues at the end of each customer's order.

Instead of asking for these donations, every once and a while (twice per charity, about) I'll write a note saying something like, "For every dollar you donate to March of Dimes, I will also donate at the end of the night." just cause. This was one such day.

Mostly, this is well-received. There are the occasional skeptics that ask if I really do it. Last year, someone donated fifty dollars, thinking I wouldn't match it. I did. It really does get donations and I really do believe in helping charities, so I do my part. 

Anyway... a couple of women came through my line and read the sign. The entire time, one of them kept saying, "You're really going to regret that."

I counted her saying that at least two dozen times within the course of three minutes. During this time, I told her it was just something I really believed in and at one point, I asked her to stop telling me I'd regret it.

She persists. Finally, I say, "Okay then, will you make me regret it?"

So she donates five dollars.

I said, "Oh, I thought you were going to try to make me regret it. Thanks for the donation, I appreciate it" and tallied the amount I owed the store.

She then proceeded to quite blatantly call me a goody two-shoes naive little kid.

I looked her dead in the eye and said, "Have you ever lost a kid?" 

"What? No."

"Until you do, don't tell people that give to charities that they'll regret it."

I don't know what was more satisfying - the look of surprise and guilt on her face as she left, or the fact that she faceplanted tripping over someone's rugrat.

With Retail Hell Love,



Call Center For Satellite TV: Blizzard of Custy Dumbasses

Skullhell From Atombomb1945:

Hey all.  My retail days are far behind me and I thought that when I moved to support I would not have to deal with the pissy custy aspect. Later I promise that I will give full details of my decent into the Hell that is Custy Support. But for now, I have to get something off my chest and VENT!!!

Currently, I work for a company who provides high quality Satellite TV service to the United States.  Everyone knows that Satellite TV has issues with the weather and really bad storms.  At one time it could simply be over cast and you would lose your signal, but it has really gotten better over the last two years or so.  Now it takes a really BIG storm to cut the signal.  And guess what happened to the good people of the state of New York yesterday?  

One really BIG snow storm. 

Normally this is an easy call that goes something like this:

Me: "Thank you for calling Satellite TV Service. How are you doing tonight?"

Customer: "Well not to good, I have a message on my screen that says 'Searching for Signal' and I cannot get any programs."

Me: "I am sorry to hear that and I would be happy to help you with that." I check the account. "Sir, I see that you are calling in from the New York area. Unfortunately, due to the heavy snow in your area we have had a number of people with this issue. All we can do at this point is to wait for the storm to pass."

Now at this point most rational people state that they understand and they accept that there is nothing that can be done during a heavy storm like this. But that is most people.

Last night I had three people take the above conversation further. Here is the basics of how it went.

Custy: "Ok, well what are you going to do about it?"

Me: "About? The Snow?"

Custy: "Yes, what are you going to do about it? I don't have any TV and I wanted to watch the Hockey Game!"

Me: "Well Sir, unfortunately there is nothing that we can do about the snow falling in your area. At this time all that we can recommend is to wait for it to pass."

Custy: "Well that's crap!  Maybe I should go with that other satellite company. I am sure they would be able to fix this." 

And then they would hang up.

Two of these calls ended with the custy wanting me to make it stop snowing, and another demanding that he receive a credit on his account due to the fact that he had been without service for the last two hours. 

Really what I wanted to say was: "Two hours of service?  Fine I will mail you a quarter and you can keep the change from that." 

Unfortunately, I need this job, so I kept a civil mouth. 

I have finally crawled out of the shelter I have been living in for the last six months hoping that the air had cleared.  But the wasteland of Retail Hell stretches on forever.


Barista Custy Revenge Secret Revealed

Blogskull25From Just Jay:

For the life of me I will never understand why people think being a bastard to the persons making their consumables is a good idea.

Personally, my own insight into the reality of customer service and impeccable manners aside, I would never abuse the person with which I am entrusting to provide me with food and drink. That's just stupid.

And yet people do.

I recall one occasion when in a drive-thru with someone I didn't know very well, after they had finished making the most finicky demands in an inappropriately patronizing tone they turned to me and asked what I wanted to order.

I politely declined, stating that I wasn't hungry anymore.

Not hungry for a spit sandwich, at any rate.

Now, most hospitality workers I know would never do something as stupid as spit in someones order. But that doesn't mean we don't have our own methods for getting our own back on assholes.

For example, in a cafe I know, they have a container of coffee grounds for the trainee baristas to practice on. This coffee is top of the line and very expensive, so at first they get to play with this stuff so as not to waste that delicious liquid heaven...mmmmmm.

Where was I? Oh yes. The trainee coffee. It's usually the crap that ends up dusted all over the counters by the end of the day, they don't actually serve it to people.

That's right, they have a reputation for being a high end coffee house, reflected especially in the prices of the beverages. And we all know what kind of bastards high end establishments attract. So tit for tat, I reckon.

The moral of this rant is: don't mess with your sustenance providers.

Especially if they're highly caffeinated.

Otherwise you may need to strain your beverage before drinking.
Just Jay.

Rich Daddy's Girl Bitch Gets Told

BallsawardAAANurse Hiedi gets a Retail Balls Award for recalling how she handled one nasty little Rich Bitch Custy during her nursing school days:

One of my many, many jobs I had while putting myself through nursing school was a grease monkey at a jiffy lube type place. IT was a 6 bay shop, and we did car repairs, oil changes, and had a car wash on site.

A favorite customer of mine came from this rich family. They reeked of it. Their oldest daughter was well…behind her back we called her miss bitch. Only reason we put up with her was her daddy (he and his wife owned a 25+ successful fast food restaurant chain I won’t mention) was a longtime customer of the car shop. For the last 15 years he had brought not only his personal cars to us, but his company cars/trucks to be fixed/oil changes, the like.

One day, Miss high and mighty rich Bitch (she was 19 at the time) pulls up in her brand new BMW (daddy paid cash for it. Birthday present or some crap) and she gets out of the car just screaming at us to fix her car.

I come out and ask her what’s wrong. In a huff, she explains the seat is broken. It won’t slide back, only forward. And that we better fix it because her daddy pays us good money to fix all their cars.

I told her we’d call her when it was fixed. She told us to call her on her cell phone because she had things to do and the car had to be fixed THAT day or she was going to daddy.

So one of my fellow grease monkey slaves pulls into an empty car bay. 20 minutes later, I was standing under a car, finishing up an oil change when he was looking at the seat trying to fix it.

I watch his face turn three shades of pale and hear him yell “EEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWWWWWWEEEWWWWWWWWW GROSS!!!!” followed by a “Somebody quick get me latex gloves and a brown paper bag…EW EW EW EW EW GROSS!!!!”

Turns out Miss Bitch’s thong, a condom wrapper (no condom itself, just the torn wrapper) and a bright green vibrator had rolled under the seat and got stuck in the track that allows the seat to slide forward and backwards.

I plucked the items from the seat and stuff them in a brown bag. My coworker then pulls the car around front.

An hour later Miss Rich Bitch comes back with her friends. She came out to the counter with them all high and mighty demanding to know if her car was fixed. I told her it was. She demanded to know the price, and then proceeded to tell her friends how we are expensive and that maybe she should go to another place if I don’t give her some sort of discount.

She asked loudly what was wrong with her car.

Trying to show her some courtesy (and spare her from embarrassment in front of her friends and the 8 or so custys in the lobby) I tell her we discovered a foreign object stuck under the seat, I wasn’t going to charge her but please step into the office so I can give her the um….items we found.

She started talking loudly about how we “better not” charge her for such an easy fix and how crazy I was-there was no “object” lodged under the seat, she keeps her car clean I just better hand over her keys or she was gonna call daddy and tell him how rude and incompetent we were.

I gave Miss Bitch her car keys. I said I had no intention of mentioning this whole thing to her daddy, but if she was going to call him to complain about us fixing her car, then I have no problems showing daddy what we found under the seat.

She looked at me with the “you don’t know what you’re talking about bitch.”

I grabbed the brown paper bag from under the counter, opened it and showed it to her (hey…if she had been nice about it and came into the office away from everyone like I asked her too….well….) and she turned 15 shades of red.

I asked “We are not going to charge you for fixing the seat, nor are we going to say anything to your father about this. But if you feel the need to get him involved….”

She grabbed her keys, her purse, and the bag all in one huff, then glared with her famous Miss Bitch stare and stormed out with her friends.

We never did tell her daddy.


Burger Bitch Hits Hell's Breaking Point

Burgerbitch26b Burger Bitch gets a Retail Balls Award for putting her soul first and deciding when enough is enough:

Well, I walked out of work today guys.

I'm talking to my manager tomorrow about what went down because technically "Walking out is considered quitting."

Hopefully she'll understand that my day was already horrible so it was just a momentary lapse.

Here's what happened.

First off, I walk to work and back everyday, it's about a 30-35 minute walk.

Halfway there today, a car swerves to purposely splash me with a fuckton amount of water.

I'm soaked to the bone(r). My coat is completely soaked, as are my pants, socks, hair and boots.

This entailed me having to turn around, go back home, get changed, dry myself off, blow dry my hair and walk back again!

Since I didn't have time to toss my coat or boots in the dryer, I had to wear my Converse and a hoody (I live in Ontario, Canada. It's a bit fucking cold outside).

Then, I went to work for two hours and was bitched at over ten times (I counted).

I won't go into great detail about them except for this one:

Old Woman: And ketchup.

Me: -Puts ketchup on-

Old Woman: Uuh. Did I SAY I wanted THAT ketchup?

Me: You just said ketchup.

Old Woman: I wanted it in the PACKAGES.

How the fuck was I supposed to know that?

But the last customer was the straw that broke the Burger Bitch's back.

He bitched at me because the cook had the cheese in his hands. Uuuh. Yeah. That's how we put the cheese on.

The grill is EXTREMELY hot, so they can't wear gloves otherwise they would melt to their skin =/

But the cooks have to wash their hands once with soap then with a special sanitizing soap, their hands are cleaner than a nun's cooch.

He bitches at me for this, saying that I must go back and tell him how horrible that is! I offer to get him a new burger but he screams at me because "YOU'RE ALREADY MAKING ME LATE TO WATCH THE GAME. DO YOU KNOW HOW IMPORTANT THAT IS?"

Uuh, no. Fuck you.

He continues to bitch at me for not putting the correct tomato and pickle on his fucking burger AND that the mustard is, get this............too yellow.

So I stop and say "LOOK, SIR. I am trying my best to keep my cool here, but this is just ridiculous."

He continues to tell me how rude I am and that the cheese is disgusting blah blah disregard that I suck cocks.

So I looked at him. took of my gloves and said "If you want your burger this bad, you can come and garnish it yourself because I am going home."

And I left.


Update: Burger Bitch is indeed still a bitch to the burger. Her supervisor acknowledged the situation as "she went home sick"....Which is actually the truth when you think about it in Retail Hell terms.