I forgot one about my training sessions at Wal-Mart. There was a very, very nice Hispanic family who obviously knew no English. They had WICs (food stamps) and were purchasing their groceries. However, the items they buy must match the voucher; in this case, they had 1% milk instead of 2% or something like that. Anyhow, we had to communicate, through hand gestures, and the mother sent her son off in search of more milk. I turned off my light, as I knew it would be a moment.

This hambeast got in line behind them, even though my light was off and I told her it would be a moment. She ignores me and begins setting things on the conveyor belt, which does not move. This should be another hint. After one minute, she looks at me, and I repeat that it will be a moment, I've started a transaction on a voucher and I can't back out without the right items. She rolls her eyes, and at that moment, another cashier walks over and tells her to come to the other line. The lady remarks with, "Fine, since this guy obviously doesn't know what he's doing!"

She then proceeds to grab her things off of the conveyor belt and slam them into her cart. It's a pity that she chose to use a dozen eggs, a loaf of bread, a box of lightbulbs, and a few other items to pull of this stunt. The eggs hit the cart with a sick cracking sound; the light bulbs did the same. Still, she was too proud of her hissy fit and bought them all, even with egg white dribbling from the bottom of the carton and tell-tale white dust coming from the light bulbs.

I laughed, loudly. The family standing in line was giggling. She walked out of the store with remnants of both her merchandise and her pride; both had been fatally injured by her idiocy.


This one reminds me of my pizza service days. About once a week we'd get people calling in, saying they never received a phantom pizza that was never ordered, trying to scam us. We log every order through the computer, and it's the only way a pizza gets anywhere, considering it prints the address labels that also tell the cooks what to make.

So one particular guy calls from a cell phone (we hated that, as it was tough to lock down an address,) and says he ordered a pizza to a dorm room and never got it. There's no record, so I ask him if he called from the dorm phone. He says yeah, gives me the number, and of course it comes up blank. No orders in months. I tell him this and he says he meant they ordered it from a friend's room. That number also comes up blank.

So it's getting suspicious, but I'm still giving him the benefit of the doubt. I ask him what was on it, and no record for that pizza combination comes up for that night. I tell him so, and he gets frustrated and basically says "whatever man, just give me my free pizza!" I tell him that without any evidence, of which there should be plenty, I can't do that. I even politely offer him some discount vouchers he can get when we deliver him a pizza that he pays for, but there is no way he's getting free pizza. He demands a manager, and I put him on with my pretty cool, younger-than-me manager (a "lifer" as far as Domino's is concerned.)

He picks up the phone and immediately says "this is the manager and everything my employee just told you is correct and there's nothing I can do to change that." Awesome. I only hear his end, and it goes something like this.

"I'm sorry, sir, I can't..."

"No, it would be in the computer."

"I'm not specifically calling you a liar, no, just stating the facts as I see them."

"Well, if you're going to swear at me, I'm going to..."

He then holds the phone away from his ear so everyone can hear this guy cussing him out. Then, he does the coolest thing I've yet seen. He holds the phone about an inch away from his mouth and just screams into it: "YOU'RE BREAKING UP, SIR! CLICK! EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

He literally said "click" and then let out a high pitched wail into the receiver before slamming it down. We then called Pizza Hut and the other places in town to let them know to be on the lookout for this scammer.


As I read through this thread I relized there are a lot of pizzeria stories and I thought i would like to add my own. I didn't know poeple would get mad if they got their pizza quick.

Her-"Your driver just got to my house 20 minutes after i ordered and your employee said it would take 45 minutes to an hour."
Me-"And what is the probelem?"
Her-"I was in the shower and I had to get out to answer the door!"
Me-"I'm still failing to understand the problem."
Her-"It disrupted my shower, I had to anwser the door in my robe and I felt like I was rushed."
Me-"I'm sorry our driver got to your house with your pizza quickly, but there's nothing i can really do..."
Her-"I denied the pizzas, I was expecting them in 45 minutes so I want you to make me fresh pizzas and send them over in 45 minutes."
Me-"So you want me to remake your order, when there wasn't a mistake, and have them sent to you again?"
Her-"Yes! Is that so hard to do, you know what, Im coming down there so I know they are amde fresh cause I know your just gonna send me the same pizzas!"
Me-"OK. But you are still going to have to pay for both orders if i make you the pizzas again."
Her-"This is perposterous! I want to speak with your manager!"
Me-HAHA "I am the manager this evening Ma'am."
Her-"You run a terrible crew and I will not be ordering from you again!"(Hangs Up)

What the fuck was her problem, how can you get mad the your pizzas were delivered hot and fast? People like that make me want to shoot myself, I am glad I am quitting this job soon.


This happened to me my first weekend working at Pizza Hut. I showed up 10 minutes early (delivery time was quoted at 30 minutes):

Me: "Good evening, how a"
Her: "You got here really quickly. Is the pizza raw?" (her words, not mine)
Me: "No ma'am, they're fully cooked. I got here quickly because the store is close to here."
Her: "Open up the boxes. I want to see if the pizzas are cooked."
Me: *opened boxes, showed perfectly cooked pizzas*
Her: "I'm going to take them, but if they're raw, I'm going to call your manager."
Me:

She didn't tip, of course. Some people will do anything to get free pizza.


I used to work in a drive through coffee shop, part of a smallish chain in the San Francisco Bay area. We had a few memorable regular customers and incidents, but the most prevalent and annoying generic customer, was the one that didn't quite grasp the fact that not every coffee shop was Starbucks.

Customer: "I need a double backflip fakeitalianword with caramel no foam"
Me: "We don't sell the double backflip fakeitalianword."
Customer: "Yes you do I bought it from you last week!"
Me: "Ma'am, I assure you we've never made that."
*Customer gets irritated look on face and actually bothers to look at one of the two gigantic fucking menus*
Customer: "What's a latte?"
Me:

The only good thing about that job was putting vodka and rum into the blended fruit tea drinks. It made that crap much more bearable.


this happened to a friend who works in a local coffee shop.

a girl who worked there had been killed in a car accident the night before and they had fliers up to notify friends of the time of the funeral and to raise money to help her parents pay fo the expenses. enter woman on cell phone. she waits in line, talking the whole time, and when she gets to the front is too busy in conversation to even give the barista her order, so she rips off a piece of paper to write it down on. you guessed it: the flyer. when my friend just stares at her instead of filling the order, she gets all pissy and smartly asks what the hell her problem is. friend turns over the paper and holds it up to the rest of the flyer and tells her to get the fuck out. woman leaves cursing under her breath and my friend gets in no trouble at all.


I worked closing shifts (1800-0200) at a local liquor store for nine months, which was a sweet gig (I spent about 5 hours of every shift just playing GameBoy or joking around with my coworker, as the store was only busy in December). We had a tonne of wacky regulars, and a few creepy guys who leered at whatever female wandered by, but they were almost always cordial, if not outright friendly and pleasant. In fact, I can only think of one incident during my tenure where I had to deal with a dickhead.

One day, a very clearly upper-class (Mercedes, nice clothes, lots and lots of jewelry) middle-aged woman entered, looking for a decent bottle of wine. Since it was slow, I ended up chatting with her for about half an hour, telling her the differences and all that good stuff. Of course, after all that, she grabbed a $6 bottle of red gasoline, but whatever, no accounting for taste. I rang her through, wished her a goodnight, and sent her on her way.

About an hour or so later, she literally KICKS OPEN THE DOOR VAN DAMME STYLE and proceeds to scream like a banshee.

Her: HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU SELL ME THIS! THIS WINE IS TERRIBLE!
Me: Eh..Excuse me?
Her: LOOK! LOOK AT THIS! (the wine was corked in a majorly bad way, with the cork actually blackened and disintegrating)
Me: Oof. I'm terribly sorry, this stuff happens sometimes. If you just wait here, I'll run into the back and get you a fresh bottle.
Her: NO! I WANT MY MONEY BACK!
Me: I'm sorry, but only managers are authorized to give out refunds. If you'd like, I can write a note for my boss and you can come in and get your money back tomorrow (Note: A Saturday). Would that be okay?
Her (getting increasingly hysterical): NO IT IS NOT OKAY! YOU'RE TRYING TO CHEAT ME! YOU'RE A FUCKING LIAR AND A THIEF!
Me: Okay. Well, I can give you the six dollars credit towards another bottle, and I'll even give you a discount because of the trouble. Would that be okay?
Her: FUCK YOU! I WANT MY FUCKING MONEY BACK NOW AND I WANT YOU TO STOP SELLING THIS WINE YOU FUCKING SWINDLER (yes, she called me a SWINDLER)!
Me: Well, ma'am, unfortunately, all I can do is either give you the credit, exchange the bottle, or leave a note for my boss.

(repeat this exact argument multiple times for fifteen minutes, with her getting exponentially madder each time. She even started banging the bottle of wine on my counter like it was a war drum)

Me (exasperated): Look, ma'am. There are really three options. If you don't pick one, I'll have to ask you to leave.
Her: ARE YOU THREATENING ME?! MY HUSBAND IS A POLICE OFFICER YOU FUCKING SHIT!! HOW DARE YOU!! I AM NEVER COMING SHOPPING HERE AGAIN AND I WILL TELL ALL OF MY FRIENDS TO DO THE SAME BECAUSE YOU HAVE POOR CUSTOMER SERVICE!!! THIS IS FUCKING RIDICULOUS!!! YOU ARE A FUCKING IDIOT WITH NO PEOPLE SKILLS!!!!!
This finally pushed me over the line, and I just snapped
Me: WILL YOU SERIOUSLY SHUT YOUR FUCK FOR A MINUTE AND BE RATIONAL? THERE'S NOTHING I CAN DO THAT I HAVEN'T ALREADY TOLD YOU! SO EITHER PUT THE FUCK OUT OR SHUT THE FUCK UP AND LEAVE
Her: (makes offended little hooting gasps. You know what I mean)
Me: (mimics the offended gasps, but an octave higher)
Me: IT'S NOT VERY FUN WHEN PEOPLE TREAT YOU LIKE AN IDIOT IS IT? GET OUT!
Her: WHAT IS YOUR NAME WHO ARE YOU I AM REPORTING YOU TO THE POLICE FOR BAD CUSTOMER SERVICE (she was so mad she was literally incoherant)
Me: (reaches for phone)
Her: (grabs phone and THROWS IT ACROSS THE STORE) I AM COMING BACK TOMORROW AND I AM TELLING YOUR FUCKING MANAGER THAT YOU ASSAULTED ME WITH ANGER WORDS AND THEN WOULDN'T TELL ME YOUR NAME I SWEAR TO GOD YOU WILL BE FIRED AND ARRESTED
(she storms off)

The customer who had wandered in during the midst of all this and was being helped in total awkward silence by my coworker turned to me, said "no one deserves shit like that. If she hadn't left I was going to stick this (brandishes fist) up here (gestures to his ass). Fucking bitch." I ended up giving him a discount, and he ended up buying my coworker and I a six-pack because "(we) looked like we needed a drink".

The best part of all is that when I showed up the next day to claim my pay-cheque and, assumedly, get canned, my boss pulled me aside and said that she called him up as soon as the store opened, crying, claiming I had bullied her and such. He told her he'd handle it, checked the security tapes and saw that the woman not only kicked the door open, but was throwing shit around the store and getting all up in my face the second she entered.

"MechaGelly," he said "remember that you can deny service to ANYONE the minute they act like a shithead. I told her I'd talk to you about the incident, so consider this our talk."

He was the best manager ever.


I worked at the main photography studio in a small town as the retouch bitch for about a year. I did everything from retouching photos to fixing computers, running errands and trying not to be killed by angry high school senior girls and their moms.

We had a pretty clear price system, although expensive, senior photos usually are. I tried to give the customer the best deal, as we charged for retouching by the minute I would take a few minutes off here and there if I messed up repeatedly, or if the person just had a difficult complexion. I would even do small retouch if they didn't pay for it but I could tell they wanted it or they had asked for it and sighed at the price.

I had a huge order come through, some rich, preppy looking girl from school who had given me a dirty look when she realized I would be the one retouching and working on her ugly mug. I finished the order in good time and sent it upstairs to the lab. It comes down a few hours later before I'm ready to leave, and my extremely large angry manager is fuming at me. (This guy needs stories of his own) The order was at least 5x72 wallets, 8x10s, 11x14s and a 18x20. Over 1000 dollars, easy. It wasn't the first time something had come back down, but as he fumed at me without saying a word; I couldn't notice a damn thing wrong with the girl's photos. So, being the jerk he was, he gets out a huge permanent marker and circles a tiny microscopic MOLE under her nose.

We don't take out moles, only acne, unless its requested. The customer has a sit down meeting with an assistant who explains this option to them and many other options. There's a fine line between being able to tell if its a mole or acne. And the lab is suppose to look over prints very carefully (quality control?! = save money?!) before printing.

It was not acne, it was a little brown, normal looking mole/birthmark. Apparently her mom had come in and complained loudly at the proofs she was sent.It went something like this:

Mom: Hello could I speak with the young lady who worked on my daughter's photographs?

Boss: No she is busy how can I help you?

Mom: THERE IS A ACNE ON THIS PHOTO AND I AM ANGRY AT IT AND YOU AND ITS NOT A MOLE I SWEAR BECAUSE ITS MY DAUGHTERS FACE I KNOW IT.

Boss: Mrs.Soandso, it was clearly a mole on the print and you could have told us if you wanted it off, it did not look bad.

Mom: YOU ARE WRONG %#@#!!!! REPRINT IT ALL I WANT MY MONEY BACK. AND FREE PHOTOS. AND IM KEEPING THESE PROOFS.(they always seemed to get free photos when we reprinted and they knew it)

Boss: Uh you will have to return those.

Mom: insert rant about us being assholes

(I'm sort of cowering at this point that I will have to speak to captain crazy on the phone, thankfully I was never handed the call)

--
I wish I had an example of this photo to show how truly ridiculous the request was.

The entire order had to be reprinted, posted all over the office(glued to my desk thanks manager) and only I was blamed. I waited for the girl to come in the next day, looked close at her face, and sure enough, it was a mole. She gave me the smuggest look I'd seen in my life.

My problem at that job was that only 1 set of eyes makes it very difficult to catch every single issue with a photo.Especially when the other sets of eyes don't even bother to look, and then throw blame around.


I miss working in retail for these reasons. Like a few of the other goons, I too worked at a Best Buy right after high school. Had the unfortunate duty of being in the "tech" dept (I think the only technical work I ever did there was scan for spyware otherwise it was a Hard Drive Reimage for ANYTHING), this meant that anytime something would come in that wasn't a game or DVD I had to check to make sure they were complete and the serial numbers matched that on the box. Apparently in our store the customer service agents had lost the ability to match numbers and read the sides of boxes as that was all I did. Occasinally on "big sales" such as computers and home theatre equpiement I would be asked to check and see if the product was defective. This is where my story comes in.

The asshole customers never came until 10 minutes before my shift was over and they usually showed up after a very busy Sunday. Some guy who had bought a computer 10 days earlier (return policy was 14 days) wanted to return the computer without paying the restocking fee siting that it was running way to slow and it wasn't acceptable. So I get called in to run a quick diagnostic on the system, being as it was so damn close to me going home I hook the system up and power it on. Normally I would have at this point waived the fee and sent him on his merry way but turbo jim decided he was going to sit there and complain that he shouldn't have to go through this process, his word was good enough and that I didn't know what I was doing. First thing I noticed when his desktop came up was the Porn Dialers. I grinned and told him I was not going to accept the unit back, there was nothing wrong with it.

The guy goes ballistic, like I had hoped he would. Manager comes over and the situation is explained to him. When I am asked why I am not going to accept it back I open up the guys internet cache start listing off some of the websites he has been too then the open up the add/remove programs (no time for Hijack this) revealing a very plentiful ammount of spyware/porn dialers. In front of the Sunday Crowd I explain that I won't be able to accept the return because the porn he had downloaded onto his computer was causing the issue. He could either go home and clear the machine or we could do it for him for a price. Guy turned beet red yanked his computer from my terminal and shot out the store to 20 people laughing. Manager gave me the next day off.


This is new. I just got called an Aryan Fascist yesterday at work.

I was working in the pharmacy of our drug store since it was a bit backed up and I had nothing else to do. So this old guy comes in to pick up a prescription for his wife. His wife apparently didn't tell him that prescriptions cost money. He'd been under the assumption his entire time in America (5 years) that medicine doesn't cost money because his wife had always picked it up. As I'm explaining to him that we have records of his wife paying the exact same price for the medication the past year he gets this crazy look on his face.

Crazy guy: YOU TRACK ME!?
Me: Well, no. We keep a record of every medication the customers in the pharmacy buy so that they can have a copy for their doctors or insurance. Nobody but the doctors/the customer and a few employees are allowed to see it.
CG: *blank stare* Why would you do that?
Me: Like I just said, in case the doctors or insurance companies need it.
CG: Why do you need to track me? I have done nothing! My wife done nothing!
Me: Sir, we're not tracking you. I just need you to sign here and your medication will be 20 dollars.
CG: I will not sign! This is invasion of privacy!

At this point my manager comes out and escorts the guy away to try and explain things to him in a way he'd understand. Apparently, it didn't work because as the guy was leaving he pointed at me and shouted "FASCISTS! YOU ALL FASCISTS! I LEFT MY COUNTRY TO ESCAPE ARYAN FASCISTS LIKE YOU!"

I had no idea the Nazis were sticklers for medication information. What a nut.


I had a customer a couple of weeks ago at the grocery store I work at literally try to push her way into the store through the exit doors. She was so sure that we were open (in spite of the parking lot being empty, and there being no cashiers at any of the cashes) and that I was just being a dick to her.

After finally convincing her that we were in fact closed, she seemed to accept it and walked away. That is until she saw our store hours on the window. She ran back up to the doors and banged on them. I opened them and before I could say anything she started yelling about how we can't just close whenever we want to, and that she was calling the corporate office to get us in trouble for closing early.

It was then that I realized why she was so sure that we should be open. When I was finally able to get a word in, I asked her, "You are aware that the clocks went forward an hour early Sunday morning?" (this happened on a monday night, she had actually gone through all of sunday and monday unaware that she was an hour behind).


That's all for this week. Tune in two weeks from now for Part 2 of "The Customer is always an Ass". Thanks again to Forums Goon AWMascot and the rest of the forums for ensuring our more quick-tempered readers severly cut the spit content on their burgers from now on!

– Tekky "Jumpman16" Andrew-Jaja

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