11 posts tagged “crazy customer”

but I have to give him points for creativity.

Lots and lots and LOTS of points for creativity.

And he did make me laugh, so more points.

Okay, backstory:

I covered the lunch break of a girl in music last week.  Whilst tidying a wall of DVDs, I was approached by what could only be described (or so I thought) as my weirdo du jour (WDJ).

First he asked if we had any documentaries on the Mormon church, then asked my opinion of the shenanigans in El Dorado (I don't have opinions about anything in the news while at work), inquired as to whether I was part of that community (huh?) and then wanted to tell me all about how inspired he was by the recent events in that area.  In fact, he was so inspired that he decided to write some songs about the aforementioned events.  And he wanted to tell me ALL ABOUT THEM.

At this point, I dived frantically across the department to ask another customer if "Do you need help ma'am?  Are you sure?  Let me tell you about all our specials this week...." just to get away from the WDJ.

When my coworker returned to music, I mentioned this guy to her.  We agreed that he had overqualified in the WDJ department and thought nothing more of him.

Until today, when the music manager walked over to me and said, "Hey, ubicaritas, remember when you covered a lunch back here last week and some bald guy talked to you for a few minutes near documentaries?"

"Oh, do I ever!"  I explained the backstory.

She laughed.  "Well, thing is, he walked off with about $420 worth of documentaries."

Me: "WHAT?!!!"

Her: "Yeah.  Oh, and he's that guy who's made off with at LEAST a grand or two worth of DVDs since Chrismas."

Me:  (expletive expletive expletive)

Okay, buster.  Fool me once, shame on you.  Fool me twice, shame on me.  THERE WON'T BE A NEXT TIME.  You've never been hit music before while I was back there, and if you EVER do so again, I WILL have a manager call the cops and I WILL get your license number if you (as you probably will, since the response time stinks) get away.

I have to say, though, that his approach was certainly original!

To end the evening, we had the incident involving about 4-5 boys who were about 10-12 years old.  They were running around the store acting like idiots, and were later found with several "gentleman's magazines," which are illegal to sell to under-18s.  Marcia, one of the managers, told them to cut it out.  One of them said, "You can't tell me what to do, and you can't make me leave because I haven't done anything."  Another of these young gentlemen suggested that Marcia perform several anatomically impossible acts.  She promptly had them removed from the store.  I might add that these were kids who were nicely dressed and fairly clean-cut.   A customer later told me that she had been down the street at another bookstore a few minutes before and that the kids had been there and pulling this crap there, too.  Their parents needed to be slapped. 

I know I haven't blogged much about singing lately, and I apologize.  The fact is that there is something going on there.  That something is definitely positive--I'd even say that it's a breakthrough--but at the same time it's indescribable.  I've tried to put it into words, but I can't yet.  All I can say is that things are clicking and lightbulbs are going off and I've just never (despite massive amounts of stress due to finals and finances and so forth) been this happy.  Ever.  It's glorious and awesome (in the original sense of the word) and incredible and undefinable and completely and totally overwhelming.  Thus, I'm letting it work without really thinking about it because I still don't handle emotion well.  I know that that's all really vague but it's as close as I can come for now.

Those of us who work and have worked in customer service bond quickly.  We tend to be extremely understanding when waiting in a line ("oy, can you IMAGINE having to work on that one register during Christmas?") or when facing a waiter with an attitude ("must have been stiffed by the last customers, let's be sure to leave 20-25%").  There are rare, if beautiful moments, when we can really make another retail slave's life happier.  This was one of them.

While waiting for my sushi takeout (mmm...sushi) from the wonderful Japanese place, I walked over to the used book store to browse.  Okay, who am I kidding?  Browsing?  Of course I got something.

While waiting in line, I noticed two things. 

First, that the guy behind the register had stopped at my store last night to pick up a CD.  He had been wearing a T-shirt for the store at which he works, and I'd teased him about "fraternizing with the enemy" by coming into my store (same type of business, different corporation).  We'd laughed a little, and agreed that each store had its merits.

Second, that he was being thoroughly cussed out by the person in front of me because the manager had refused to mark the VHS tape down to 50 cents from the $4 at which it was stickered.  The manager had indicated that the prices were, well, AS MARKED.  After the manager walked away, this female started screeching at the employee about "this isn't good customer service," "no one will buy this tape for $4, that's a ridiculous price," "I can't believe this place," and, finally, "that's way overpriced, but no one will buy it.  You've lost yourself a sale!"

At that point, another employee opened the register next to the other and asked me if I'd like to check out there.  Suddenly, I was inspired to utter fiendishness.  The idiot customer had just said (for the third time, by my count) "You've lost yourself a sale," in a tone of voice that indicated that the loss of the $4 sale would a) figure greatly on the employee's yearly evaluation, b) ensure that the employee would never get a raise or promotion, graduate college, be involved in a good relationship or even own a goldfish due to his rank incompetence, and c) permanantly bankrupt the employee's company, his store, each of his coworkers, and land him in jail for income tax evasion and questionable behavior with tapirs.

As I stepped over the register, I glanced over the counter to where the "overpriced" VHS tape was and squealed in a voice about an octave and a half higher than my usual speaking voice "Ohmigosh!  Hudson Hawk?  I've looked, like, EVERYWHERE for that movie!  I'll take it!  I can't believe I, like,  found it!  Ohmigosh!" (Note aside: I do not, in ordinary life, murder the English language to that extent.  Desperate times, however, call for desperate measures.)

The other customer fumed, raved, raged, hollered, howled and snarled, but couldn't deny that she'd said she wasn't going to buy it.  (three times, minimum.) After she left, I returned it.  The guy behind the counter was laughing so hard that he could barely process the return, and has vowed to help me out in the future if he's in my store and sees something like this going on.

Booksellers of the world, unite against rude entitlement junkies!  I can see it now: by day, we work at our $7-an-hour jobs.  By night, we roam the aisles of other stores, seeking to aid other abused retail slaves.  World peace through mutual assistance!

I'm off for eight days!  Woohoo!

One of the things I actually enjoy about customer service is watching the wide variety of people who pass through my store.  A few touch my soul in a way that I remember for years; many make no lasting impression; some others are just. plain. WEIRD.  I think that this evening displayed a slice, if you will, of all of the above.

• First, I had the African (as in, had a heavy, possibly Nigerian? accent) gentleman who clearly remembered me from a past visit to my store.  I don't remember him at ALL, but hey, he was obviously positively impressed with the last visit, so I wasn't going to object.  :D  He picked out a few cds that he'll be getting with his next paycheck, and then went on to catch the bus.  As he left, he mentioned that he'd be getting his new stereo system next month, and that he was really looking forward to it because of the quality of the sound.  He even knows which cd will be the first he'll play, and then said, "When I set up the stereo system and hear this music, I must cry.  It is just so beautiful.  My friends, they look at me and they say, 'For what do you cry?'.  I do not think that most people understand this, but I have to cry.  It is so beautiful."  I smiled and assured him that I understood.  I rarely (okay, virtually never) cry, but when I have in the last five years or so I would have to say that it was due to some achingly beautiful piece of music.
• Then, I had the really strange guy who yacked my ear off about the movie Luther (which I will never, ever, EVER see), started to get a bit innapropriate and personal with a customer who I knew who he had never met ("Why did you leave your country of origin?  What school do you go to?  What is your major?  Why did you pick that major?).  She was clearly uncomfortable (actually, once he left she said, "WHAT a horrible man!   Do you have to put up with many of these?"), but he was not getting the hint to leave her alone.  I rescued her and went to wait on another customer; he went away, but (le sigh) returned after a bit.  As I rang his purchase, he told me that a) the dresses in Pride and Prejudice were too "antebellum" (yes, you read that correctly), b) that he liked how I wore my hair ("very Victorian,") and that c) he would "like to see how I'd look in Victorian period dress, and he knew just the seamstress if I was interested."  I said, "I think not."  He left at that point; one more remark and I was going to call a manager to ask him to leave.  She would have, too, as he had already bent her ear on various subjects for almost forty minutes.  Yuck.
• Next, there was the couple in their late 30s/mid 40s who purchased American Gangster and some Sting cds.  She was in a power wheelchair due to (my guess) MS or something similar.  As they looked at a display, she unconsciously leaned forward to get a better look at something.  He leaned down and gently rubbed her back (nothing innapropriate, just gentle).  You could see how much they were in love.  Brightened my evening.
• Of course, my full-moon-with-an-eclipse-coming evening wouldn't be complete without the herd of guys in their late teens-mid-20s who set off every loss-prevention bell in my head, but (aside from making a ghastly mess in Pop Rock) were not caught doing anything.  There were six or seven of them (and they all were together) back in Music at one point; kept milling around, distracting me, asking unnecessary questions, etc.  The one with the mohawk (which was, incidentally, glued on) was particularly annoyed when it turned out that we do not regularly stock the Insane Clown Posse's albums.
• There were also the spawn of Satan (oh, excuse me, I mean younger customers) whose grandmother had me hold a few DVDs (which she was getting for these imps) while she went and got a couple of books.   I was in mid-transaction with Victorian-period-dress dude when these little wretches came back to Music, pounded their fists on the counter, and said, "We want our stuff NOW!"  I looked at them icily and said, "When I am finished with this gentleman's transaction, I will be able to wait on you.  Kindly give me a few minutes" before resuming the transaction with the other customer.  While in "real life" I don't like that I seem to terrify small children, I must confess that it is remarkably handy in retail.  They both shut up and waited politely until I finished.
• My final customer of the day was a...large...woman of about 60 years in an unfortunate red-and-white Hawaiian-style shirt and some applied-with-a-spatula pancake makeup.  As I finished ringing her transaction, her cell phone began to blare a ringtone of which I had been previously (and happily) unaware.  The refrain seemed to be along the lines of "She thinks my tractor's sexy; it really turns her on."  I kept a straight face, and mentally thanked my father for teaching me how to keep a poker face at a young age. (edit: out of curiousity, I Googled the lyrics.  This song really does exist.  I don't know why.) 

The tally?  One customer who I'll remember positively for a long time, two who just brightened my evening by being themselves, one guy who I will probably have tossed from the store if he ever approaches me again (okay, that's a bit unusual; I don't usually have them quite that weird), some peculiar come-out-at-the-full-of-the-moon types, some kids to whom I may or may not have taught the bare minimum of manners, and one just laugh-out-loud-after-she-leaves-the-store funny customer.

C'est la vie in customer service!

(spoken by coworker as he stares at the 50-odd books on "Speak Spanish in just 10 days!," guidebooks to Mexico and Central America, guidebooks on finding "hot" people to date, etc)

"May they all get Montezuma's Revenge as they're heading back to their hotel in rush hour trafffic in an un-airconditioned taxi in Mexico City with the date they've FINALLY managed to pick up!"

Yes,, it was that kind of evening.  It usually takes a lot to really annoy me (more so than is perhaps obviouis on this blog-I know I tend to blog about my bad customer experiences than the good), but by the end of the evening I was quite certain that if one more customer

a) treated me like trash to show off for the girl/boy friend,

b) came in while drunk out of their skull (and proceeded to act like the south end of a north-bound donkey),

c) asked me where a book was, and then argued with/contradicted me when I tried to take them to the book ("it's not in childrens'!  It's in teens!").  while do not have the location of every book memorized, I'm pretty familiar with the locations for books as popular as the one she wanted.  She argued with me the entire way to the department in which the $^#% book was.  And yes, it was EXACTLY where I thought it was.

d) quizzed me extensively about the ONLINE ONLY sales (rather than, oh, checking the website),

e) asked just one more stupid question ("MA"AM!  How much is this?  Oh, it really is the price on the front in 18-point font?"),

f) complained that we didn't have enough people on the floor (believe you me, buster, I am WELL aware of that.  That may possibly be why I'm on two different phones and three lines and two computers ALL AT ONCE) or

g) (the highlight of the evening) left a plastic cup that he'd been using as a spittoon for me to find on a shelf, complee with chew and "juice" (gag, gag, gag, GAG) 

h) any and all of the above

then there would have been a small-grade nuclear explosion reported in northern Texas, and I would have promptly gone to the bank, withdrawn every penny from both accounts, and flown one-way to Rome, where they have wonderful shoes, divinely-inspired cappuccinos, glorious music, art and sushine, and fewer crazy customers.

Come to think of it, that isn't a bad idea.  Oh, darn, I have class.

To bed I go.  Thank heavens I rarely have days like this.  Most days at work are good; occasionally a bit long or tiring, but really quite good overall.  One or two unpleasant/weird/annoying customers don't get me down.  Days like this, when I'm tired already, make me want to blow every penny on a trip to Rome, there to be a barista in a small coffeeshop.  So I can't speak a word of Italian.  I'LL LEARN!

none of which warranted a post all to themselves, but all of which I wanted to blog:

1) the amusing stress dream:  I have a musical coming up which I am having a blast preparing for (or will, when I get a few ounces of energy, which I did somewhat today.  yippee!).  I already mentioned the formal dress for which I measured.  I would add that since I measured, I have been quite careful about what I eat and exercising--not just because of that. but because I feel so much better when I do.  My weight has remained the same.  There is no reason, so long as I keep doing what I'm doing, to freak out about this dress.  And yet I apparently do, as evidenced by the fact that last night, I dreamed that a) when the dress arrived I had gained thirty pounds and it did NOT zip up (to put it mildly) when I tried it on and b) that the damned thing was made of grey-black cordoroy, rather than the periwinkle chiffoney material that of which it seems (looking at the pictures) to be made.  Even I found it highly amusing (after I woke up, at least).

2) One of the benefits of having the house to oneself for an night is the ability to play opera at one in the morning without threats of imminent death by a tolerant-but-not-quite-THAT-tolerant roommate.

3) Customer requests Romeo and Juliet.  Bookseller escorts customer to plays and shows her the four versions that the store has in stock.  Customer:  "Oh no, I don't want the play.  I want the book the play was based on."  Western civilization is doomed.

4) Who the *&$^%, upon entering a store, tells their 4-year-old daughter to "go to the children's section (clear across the store) and I'll meet you there in twenty minutes" ?  Poor kid was so sweet and polite and so obviously scared becasue she couldn't find the children's section.  Kid was then spoiled rotten for twenty minutes by bookstore employees who administered dagger-looks to the parent when he graced us with his presence.

5) Got into a practice room today and had a great practice.  It was the kind where a half-dozen things/phrases/intervals that had seemed ununderstandable/impossible a day before clicked into place perfectly.

6) I think (crosses fingers) that I may have shaken off the last of that bug.  I'm a little tired, but nothing more than usual after a full day of school and work. 

7) To that sweet lady I cashiered for this evening and who just by being herself (kind, polite, friendly) really made my night?  Thanks.

8) Also made (most) of my evening: we had a manager on who put ONLY classical music into the store's CD player.  It was like that for all but three hours of my shift.  No "crossover" saccharine, no 'I Shot the Sheriff (but I Didn't Kill the Deputy)' (yes, that is the title of one of the tracks on our current play list), no techno (off-balance washing machine mating with a blender), etc, etc.  Just classical selections.  (happy me!)  I told him he needed to close so that we could keep that music on, but he didn't really seem all that interested in doing a 14-hour-shift.  Strange :P 

9) Just got a CD of Renata Tebaldi (more on the glorious expenditure of a $100 gift card--all on music!-later).  All I can say is "wow."  More, I assure you, will be said in the post detailing the aforementioned purchase, which was so fun it may be illegal in certain parts of the country.

Good night, all!  "To sleep, perchance to dream"-but not of too-small formal dresses constructed of grey-black cordoroy!

Customer du jour:

This didn't, thank heavens, happen to me.  I really don't think I could have kept a straight face.  As it was, I had to turn around and pretend to straighten some books.

So the other cashier calls the next customer to her line.  This customer was unaware of the fact that the mullet was a bad idea in the 80s and was an even worse idea now.  The one she was sporting was somewhat grungy looking, and just set off the stud in one ear, the oversized T-shirt, and the cut-off shorts.  The latter are usually a very bad idea, and they are especially unwise if one is slightly over five feet tall and slighty over a hundred pounds overweight.

Cashier to customer:  "So, did you find everything all right today?"

Customer: "I think so, but if this doesn't work, can I return it?"

Cashier: "Yes, (recites return policy)."

Customer: "Good.  You wouldn't believe how hard it is to find books on rat breeding!"

Cashier: (stunned) "Er, did you try Petco?"

Customer:  "Yeah, but they didn't have any.  I'm starting a rat-breeding business, and I want to get some books on it."

Cashier: (speechless) "Ah."

Customer: "Yeah, I figure that I'd make a lot of money breeding rats.  They're really cute!"

Me: (walks into the gifts section, lest my shaking shoulders give me away)

Egads.  And I always thought of rats as vermin that one stayed away from and sicced one's animals on if one was unfortunate enough to meet such a creature.  If you want rats, lady, go to New York City.  According to a recent census (and I don't want to know how that was done or who did it) the rats in the city outnumber the humans TEN TO ONE.  I'm sure New York could spare a few.  For that matter, why not get some roaches while you're at it?

(shakes head, wonders why certain portions of humanity are allowed out without keepers)

and this diva will be FREE for an entire month!

Don't get me wrong: I love what I am doing.  But I need a break.  Badly.  This whole sleeping less than 6 hours a night?  Not working well.  And minor scales are getting irritating at best.

Work is good, albeit tiring.  The ultimate test of a service job (retail, waitressing, etc) is doing it over the holidays, when people are at their craziest, stores are busiest, and the urge to "go retail" grows exponentially with each idiot customer ("I can't find my child!"  "How old is he?" "Five."  "When did you last see him?" "Three hours ago, when I dropped him off by himself to play in the children's area.  Don't you people keep an eye on kids here?  What kind of a place do you run?", and no this didn't happen recently-previous job-still retail and NOT daycare-but 'tis the season...). 

However, my managers don't mangle and do manage, my coworkers (the vast majority, at least) show up for work, and the customers are somewhat less psychotic than your average retail customers.  I will note, though, that a few days ago I saw the moron who chewed me out for offering him assistance (he found the offer insulting) yelling at my manager because he felt that the music was too loud.  Well, I'd agree that the Trans-Siberian Orchestra was much too loud (they weren't muted), but we're required by corporate to play that raucous noise at a certain volume because (for reasons best known to the tasteless public) it sells well.  And sir?  The observation that you can hear the music through the earphones you use to shoot with is a rather pointless one.  Such headphones are meant to protect your ears, not cancel noise.  They may muffle things a bit, but they aren't DESIGNED to give you silence.  If you don't like this store so much, kindly go elsewhere.  (Though considering the tone he was taking with the manager, perhaps he will get booted).  (end rant)

Anyhow, the last theory final is Thursday, at which point I will be blessedly free for quite a while.  The worst (ie, ear training) final is over.  Scales have been played, sight-reading has been done (not terribly well, to my mind) and harmonic dictation has been dictated. 

I may even be able to post more often.  I'll be working full time over Christmas, so I should have some more stories about crazy customers.  Perhaps I'll even get a chance to put up some "family" photos.  Who knows? :P

and so far, I haven't slugged him, but he hasn't gotten "hands-on" with me.  He has on several of the other female employees, though.  I think I intimidate him because whenever he's around I act very impatient, very busy, and slightly annoyed.  And that's if I don't see him in time to hide.

http://seattlepi.nwsource.com/fun/retail.asp?date=20071205

Things that are cool:

• Being inside on a cold, rainy day
• Having that day off from work
• Cecilia Bartolli (Se Tu M'ami)
• Being in fleecy pjs on a cold, rainy night
• Sitting by a hot fire, making s'mores, and drinking mulled cider (I have the best recipe EVER for mulled cider) on said cold and rainy night
• Watching the reaction when my roommate unthinkingly tosses the lighter used to light the fire INTO the fire (yes, we're all ok, despite mild heart failure).  I think she thought it was a match or something.
• Cuddling with two darling pussycats and one crazy dog while doing the above and listening to Cecilia
• Not having to be up early the next morning
• Warm blankets

Things that are not cool:

• Watching someone on an online forum to which I belong go through her infant daughter's birth and death anniversaries.  Heaven forbid I ever go through that, but if I do, I'd like to do it with as much grace as Kathleen has.  Prayers heading your way, dear!
• (on a much lighter note, 'cause the above puts such things into perspective) Family members who try to control you, and other family members who care so little that they have no idea what subject you are studying in school, where you are going to school, how many mroe years you are going to be there, future plans, etc (sorry, minor rant)
• Customers who tell you off for offering assistance on Black Friday.  I fixed him; gave him every gory detail about mystery shop programs in general, that of my store specifically, and explained why that all boils down to I HAVE to ask him if I can help him; poor guy took off running while I was in mid-sentence five minutes later (evil grin).  I have a sneaking sympathy with his views (it is, I would think, rather annoying to be offered assistance every five minutes) but yelling at me will accomplish NOTHING beyond getting a truly mind-numbing lecture on mystery shops.  Sir, do NOT deliberately antagonize a salesperson on Black Friday.  She WILL take out her frustrations on you!  And if you're annoyed that I, who see HUNDREDS of customers every day (and thousands on Black Friday) can't remember you immediately from offering you help three weeks ago when you just said, "no thanks," then get over yourself.  A sixty-something guy who wears dingy sweaters doesn't stand out much in my memory (well, unless he makes an idiot of himself).  A certain delightful woman who comes in every few weeks to pick out books and mags for her FOUR NEPHEWS in Iraq and Afghanistan?  Her I remember.  Really nice police officer who comes in to donate books toward our Cowboy Santa program? Ditto.  You?  Well, I'll remember you from now on.  May the baristas add four shots of expresso to your decaf nonfat (what is the point?) soy latte!

C'est la vie!

We had another five minutes before the store was officially closed for the evening.  Another bookseller and I were straightening the newstand, and hoping that we'd be out of there at a reasonable hour.  I was vaguely thinking that nothing at the store that evening had warranted a blog post.

Never say never.

There was a customer sitting by the window and reading a magazine.  Normally this would really tick me off; I mean, it's all of FIVE MINUTES before the bloody store is closed.  People who read magazines usually take a huge stack of them, and then don't put them back on the shelf or put them back on the shelf incorrectly.  Go HOME, for pete's sake, and leave us to clean up after you.  However, this guy was reading ONE magazine, was not reading the sort of magazine that causes certain...gentlemen...to get somewhat...excited, and had not make a mess.  I was prepared to be forgiving.

Then his phone rang.  The conversation went as follows:

"Hey. (pause) WHAT?  They're DETAINING you? (pause)  Whaddya mean they're coming to the house?  How'd they know?  (pause) I'm not there.  No, call Tammy and tell her to get out!  I don't have time to go back there and get it.  (pause)  Yeah, man, I'll stay where I am.  Nah, man, I'm not crazy.  I'm not going back there.  I'll meet up with Tammy later."  At this point, he hangs up and RUNS out of the store, but not without giving me a polite nod and a "You have a nice evening, ma'am."

I looked at the other bookseller, and together we just stare at his rapidly retreating back.  As he fades into the distance, she said, "You couldn't script that."

Truth really is weirder than fiction.

And in the end, I really do not want to know.