Now, I work in a friendly neighborhood lumber store, which usually has some pretty awesome customers, and I work with some pretty good people too. Despite issues with me being a young university-aged girl who works in a fairly male-dominated industry with mostly male customers, and dealing with the occasional creepy customer who thinks that it's ok to be crude and disgusting to me because I have the audacity to work around lumber AND be a young girl, life is normally pretty good at the lumber store.However, on Canada's holiest of holy days, the Olympic gold medal hockey game between USA and Canada, life was not so good. I don't even know why we had customers- go home and be Canadian and watch your goddamned hockey. Quit telling me it's awful that I have to work on a day like today and miss all the action on TV. I wouldn't be working if people like you didn't come in to buy shit.
I had one customer come in with his Hell Spawn trailing behind him, making some big deal about how he needed to return something because it was missing a part.
Ok, fine, I can deal with that. I asked for a receipt, and he handed me a slip of paper with the names of the items and their prices handwritten down, with our store's stamp on it.
I asked if he had another proof of purchase, as this was not an official receipt. He started getting irate, telling me that this is what we gave him, how dare I question him, it has our stamp on it so how could we say it isn't ours (which is irrelevant, as one of our stamps was recently stolen) etc. etc.
I told him I could give him an exchange on the item only, and he huffed and puffed and finally agreed. I went to go look for the item in question, and because life hates me, there was none left.
I informed him of this, and the dickweed looked at me and said, "Well, looks like you're going to have to give me my money back, now, doesn't it?" and puffed his chest out like the self-important douche he was.
In the background, his Hell Spawn was knocking down items and pulling things off the shelf and doing things Hell Spawn tend to do. His father half-assedly asked him to clean up and the kid threw a fit and started whining for his father to help him fix his mess. I appreciated the irony of his Hell Spawn yelling at him to fix something that wasn't his fault, but it warmed my heart only briefly as I realized I'd be the one who'd clean it up in the end.
I asked again if he had another receipt, as it was possible that another employee wrote that note out for him so he could do price comparisons only, but when he bought the item he received an actual receipt, and he got confused by the two pieces of paper.
The guy starts yelling for me and my coworker to get a manager, call our boss up, and all that good stuff. We tried calling our superiors, but everyone who had the authority to do something about the situation was at home, in the middle of watching the Olympic game like everyone else in Canada, and not picking up the phone.
We told the guy to come back on a weekday, when there might be someone who had the authority to help him. He yelled again about how he has work on weekdays and we should accommodate his schedule!
NEWSFLASH: Our bosses only work weekdays too. It's why the college kids with no authority to solve your problems work weekends. Retail slaves with seniority don't have to work shitty weekend shifts to accommodate your life.
We offered him a store credit for his items, and he refused that as well, yelling about how he doesn't want a store credit because he never wants to get anything from our store again.
After yelling at us a bit more, the douche yells that he's taking his stuff and never shopping at our store again.
One can only hope.