From DV-DIVA, January, 2011, right before all the video stores closed:

There is a custy whom I have had the "pleasure" to serve in two different stores now.

I've worked in a total of four stores over the several years I've been employed with my company. His name is John. (Name changed to protect the ignorant.)

John is special. And by special, I mean...certifiable. At my original store, he would frequently bring my employees half a ream of computer paper printed up with information on alien abduction.

No one ever asked him for this information, I think it was more like John felt that he was providing them a service.

What he was actually providing was a good amount of scratch paper for our office.

My distaste for John and his eccentricities began when he came in to return a copy of "Hairspray" that he had rented.

We had the following conversation:

Me: *Generally tolerant of him at this point, but knowing he wasn't all there* "How'd you like the movie, John?"

John: "I found it to be disturbing, and totally without any sense of reality whatsoever."

Me: *Blinks* "I um...it's just a fun musical, really...I guess I can understand people thinking it's disturbing though."

John: "What disturbed me most is that the obese young woman found love with the good looking young man."

He eyes me up and down as I stand there slack-jawed. I, myself, am overweight. An important detail at this point.

John: "Honestly...Do YOU ever expect to find love?"

From that moment on, my feelings toward John and his eccentricities revolve around the various parts of his anatomy that he can stick them in. I'm only as polite to him as my job dictates that I must be.

This past week though, he took the cake...

He came in, complaining that the new store I'm in is too far away. Since the original store closed down a year ago, he now has a further distance to travel in order to get his movies and hand out his alien abduction books.

John depends solely on public transportation, and the bus stop is too far away for him to walk from it to our store. This is upsetting to John. But John has come up with a plan. He comes into the store, and asks to speak with me. 

I go over, and he lets me know that he has decided that he's going to ask us to set aside a couple hours a week for an employee to go to his house, pick him up, bring him to the store, allow him to pick out his movies, and then take him back home.

I could barely stand there and keep a straight face while he laid this plan out.

Of course, I told him that this wasn't a possibility, and he attempted to argue with me, but I stood my ground.

The impromptu staffing meeting he was holding ended with him telling me that this would be the LAST time he ever came to our store, because we were unreasonable, and more interested in the interests of "Big Brother" than in the well-being of our customers.

Now that I think about it...I should have told him to ask one of his alien buddies for a ride.

Apparently, they like picking people up.

--DV-Diva

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We do also have a category for Video Store Hell here  (doesn't have a lot in it, but there are few more tales from DV-Diva!)

From July, 2011

Phone Wench gets a Retail Balls Award for giving a crusty old crazy hag great service, but refusing to take her abusive threats:

Hi there, RHU! Long-time reader, first-time poster. Call me Phone Wench.

I graduated college recently, and now work for a large cellular provider... let's call them Whorizon. Except I don't actually work for them. My store is a locally owned indirect agent, meaning we're licensed to sell phones, sign people up for contracts and all that jazz, but we can't provide all the services of an actual corporate location. Nor can we match online prices/deals/etc. Not only would we get run out of business in about five minutes if we did that, but corporate legally won't let us. 

Not that this stops the custys! Or should I say crustys, since the place I live is basically one enormous hyper-wealthy retirement community. Think hellspawn are bad? You've never dealt with an 80 year old woman demanding to know how to make her iPhone's screen bigger. (Yes. Not the display or the font, the actual screen. "Don't you people sell bigger phones than this? You really ought to consider your customers more.")

I have people continually turning up in my store demanding free phones, which of course I can't give to them; the best I can do is give them a $50 phone with a $50 rebate, and even that varies depending on corporate's promotions. Can you get it for free online? Probably. Is it going to be used? Probably. Are you going to turn up in my store two weeks later, pissed that you have a used phone, and demanding that I exchange it for a new one? Probably, and then I will laugh at you. 

Most of the time, if you're polite and firm, the customers will either capitulate and buy the damn phone, or give up and go to the corporate store (which also won't fulfill online deals and is on the other side of town to boot.) Most of the time. 

Then there's..... Glenda. Glenda (not her real name) is an infamously terrible customer, to the point where none of the senior sales reps will serve her and even the manager doesn't want to deal with her. Why Glenda continues to shop with us, I will never know, since apparently her cell reception is terrible, none of her phones work, her internet is too slow, and every sales rep she deals with is surly and rude to her.

My first encounter with Glenda came a couple weeks ago, as I was cashing in my drawer at the start of my shift. The phone rings, I look around, the other sales rep is busy, so I pick up. "Welcome to Wireless Hell, my name is Phone Wench, how can I help you?"

"MY INTERNET."

"....Yes, ma'am?"

"MY INTERNET."

"Are you a Whorizon internet customer, ma'am? How can I help you?" This was apparently the wrong thing to say, as she burst into a tirade about how she's been a Whorizon customer for ten years and how I should know her and how I AM SO RUDE, etc, etc.

Before hanging up on me, she screams that she's coming into the store directly because "YOU CLEARLY DON'T KNOW ANYTHING" and tells me she's going to make sure I get fired. 

I hang up, mildly shaken, and go back to cashing in. Sure enough, about thirty minutes later a car pulls up right in front of our door (which is a no-parking zone) and an older woman gets out and stomps in.

The senior sales rep looks up, and immediately decides to go hover over a browsing customer. I am alone at the desk. The woman storms up, slams a Mifi (wireless internet) device down on the counter, and snarls, "MY INTERNET IS DOWN. THIS PIECE OF SHIT WON'T TURN ON." 

Now, I really don't appreciate being sworn at, but I also know it can be frustrating when equipment doesn't work. I decide to give her the benefit of the doubt. I take the device, look at it, pop the battery out and back in again*, and plug it into my charger. A little green light comes on; the device is perfectly functional. I say, as softly and politely as I can, "I think it just needs to be charged, ma'am. If it's been having problems charging, I can replace the battery for you."

CUE THE HOUNDS OF HELL. I am told I am surly, I am rude, I am worthless, I don't know anything about technology, how this device HAS NEVER WORKED (yet somehow she's had it for six months now), and WILL NEVER WORK, and I DO NOT KNOW WHAT I AM TALKING ABOUT. I cower under this torrent of abuse, until suddenly an idea occurs to me. "Ma'am, let me talk to my manager, and see if I can replace the device for you." 

And while a shriek of WHY DIDN'T YOU DO THAT IN THE FIRST PLACE rises behind me, I escape into the back. My manager is back there, laughing hysterically, and hands me another Mifi device. "I heard everything. Give her this and we can resell her old one."

I take the Mifi, head back out, and switch her account over to the new device, while Glenda continues to hurl abuse at me. "Here, ma'am, this one will work, and if it doesn't, come right back and we'll exchange it. Thank you for choosing Wireless Hell, and have an excellent day."

This is not enough for Glenda. "IF THIS ONE DOESN'T WORK, I'M COMING BACK HERE AND THROWING IT AT YOU!"

I sit bolt upright. "Ma'am, if you do that, I will happily CALL THE POLICE." My voice is loud and firm, and the other customers in the store turn to look. I have had ENOUGH, and I'm not putting up with any more of this. "As long as you can refrain from committing assault, I will be happy to serve you. If not, you are more than welcome to take your business to corporate."

She stares at me. I stare back.

Eventually she drops her eyes, snatches up the new device, and scurries out with a half-snarled "Thank you." 

Phone Wench: 1, Crazy Bitch: 0.

Working for Whorizon means you put up with a lot of customer abuse, usually for things that aren't your fault and could never have been, but this time I feel like I managed to keep a little of my dignity intact. 

(*Footnote*: Popping the battery out and back in again solves a lot of glitches. Please, customers, for the love of whatever deity you hold sacred, TRY THAT FIRST before you come in and yell at the sales rep. We are not tech support and can't be.)

--Phone Wench

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From Norelle, December, 2008:

Kind of funny story I thought I'd share-- and it has a happy ending!
We're allowed to wear Holiday t shirts and sweaters and such to work for the month of december and I was taking up the company's offer by wearing a Hanukkah t-shirt that poked fun at a secular Christmas tradition- it had a bunch of presents in front of a big menorah and it said "Santa Schmanta" on it.

I'm not really Jewish, but I'm not really Christian either, and I thought the shirt was cute, and the Jewish customers often complain that they feel underrepresented around the holidays and the company was ok with it.

Of course, in order to make sure that all people continue to take themselves too seriously, a lady decides to find my tshirt offense. She spews off all sorts of anti-semitic stuff and says i'm the spawn of Satan, destroying good Christian principles like Santa Claus.

I'm a little shocked by this out of the blue bitchfest, so I'm silent and trying to think of something to say that will even penetrate her skull, when the lady behind her, took offense to what she was saying.

The two ladies started yelling at each other, and the anti-semitic lady threw a punch (well, it was more of a limp slap with two inch fingernails, but you get what I'm saying) and these two ladies end up in an all out, rolling on the floor, scratching, hair pulling, catfight, right on the front end of the store. 

I call security, and they call the local police. Security separated the two women by the time the police got there, and the police walked them out, and asked them not to return unless they could behave themselves. 

--Norelle

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From Drive-Off Dramaqueen, April, 2011:

Oh. My. Gods. I swear, someone left the door open at the loony bin or something, because they're all coming in full force to this gas station. Including, but not limited to, this gem, which just happened.

There was this old lady, I'd say probably a good 60-65 years of age, with leg braces and those half-crutches that have the thing that wraps around your forearm. She pulled up to the store, waited for an hour for the place to vacate, pulls around to a pump, comes in, and demands, NOT ASKS, DEMANDS, that somebody come out and pump her gas for her, because she's disabled.

I'm the only one in the store currently, so I say (insanely politely, as I've only been at work about an hour and hadn't had a bad custy yet!) "I would be happy to come out and pump your gas for you, ma'am, I just need to wait for the three customers who are in the store to pay and leave, I cannot leave the building with customers in it."

"NO. I HAVE *insert random mumbly-joe event here* TO BE AT IN FIVE MINUTES! YOU PUMP GAS NOW."

Really? Because you've sat here for an absurdly long time before coming in and demanding this.

"Well, ma'am, I'm the only attendant on duty right now, I can help you as soon as the store clears out. That's it."

She huffs and puffs, and decides to have me check 13 different gift cards to see if they had balance left on them.

13.

Thirteen cock-sucking empty fucking gift cards.

And of course, it's my fault they're showing "empty" since none of them have been used!

So finally she puts $10 on a store credit card and walks back out to her car and sits in the driver seat, honking at me every two minutes while the other customers who were here first, and who are picking out their things are still shopping.

Almost a half hour later, and I did kind of feel bad about that, but not really, from the way she bursted in here, I finally got out and pumped her gas. Gas is like 3.40 a gallon or some shit and she ended up with 2.9 gallons.

She grabs my arm as I walk past, back in toward the store, and starts shouting that she "should get more gas than that, gas is 3.40 a gallon and she paid 10 dollars!"

I whip out my ipod, sick of her shit, and wrench away from her.

"Touch me again and I'll call the cops. As it stands, you just assaulted me. Now here, I have a calculator. $10.00 divided by the $3.40 ass-ragingly high gas price equals 2.942 gallons. That is what you received, that is what you paid for, don't come here again."

"How dare you talk to me like that, I'm a paying customer!"

"And I'm not required, as the only person on duty at this station right now, to leave this building for any reason. I'm sorry you have problems getting around, but maybe you should go to PamSu (hehe competitor) down that way" I point, "or the other OilSpill down that way," again, point "or any of the five Birthdays on Uni Ave. They all have two or more people working at any time. We do not. We are also the busiest station in this area, and, as such, we do not have time to leave the store and argue over whether or not we're "cheating people out of gas" at the pump. Because we're not. We just passed the mandatory yearly inspection with flying colors. So if you don't mind, I am going back inside, because it is cold, and I am only wearing a t shirt, and now my arm hurts."

Now, I understand, I do, I totally get the disabled thing. I spend a good deal of my time helping my mother, who is disabled, and my grandma and great aunt, both of which are disabled, and my mentally handicapped uncle. So, before the flame war starts on that end, let me just make that clear. I have nothing against people being disabled and needing extra help. But I will not stand by and be accused of cheating people, and I will not stand by and be abused or have my kindness taken advantage of.

--Drive-off Dramaqueen

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From Lisa, March, 2010:

Encountered this sign in Hawaii at the Volcano Country Club restaurant across from Kilauea. Food service in Hawaii must BLOW so hard. Gotta love these ladies stickin' to the man!

 see more funny signs here

Former Cigar Shop Manager Joe, August, 2009:

Me: "No sir, there's nothing wrong with my hearing. But as I said, that's all we have right now. I can give you the box discount of 10 percent."

Customer: "You're not going to be in business very much longer! It's apparent that you don't care about your customers! 

Me: "Sir, I do care about my customers, but-"

Customer: "I drive all the way here from downtown and I get someone who doesn't even know what they're DOING!"

Me: "Sir, I've explained the situation to you. We have thousands of comparable cigars.  I've offered you a discount. I'll gladly order you a full box, but as of now, that's the best I can do. If that's not to your satisfaction, I suggest you leave."

Customer: "Why, of all the rude, ignorant...! There are OTHER cigar shops in the area, you know!"

Me: "Yes sir, there are! But seeing as it's now after nine o'clock, THEY'RE CLOSED TOO!"He left with much muttering. But two weeks later, he was back. He bought a full box of his preferred brand. That's 100 cigars that sell for six dollars apiece. I rang it up at $600. He went ballistic. He demanded a discount. I explained (trying not to smile) that ALL discounts are discretionary. 

--Joe

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