Reduced to clear
I worked for Britain's largest supermarket for a good 3 years of my life, as a part-timer no less, so I really got my share of shitty jobs, shitty bosses and shitty customers.

After being there a few months I was granted the power of handling all the reduced to clear pricing. I'd fix sarnies for 10p for my mates and generally abuse my responsibilities to the point where I sold 10 quids worth of high-end cakes and eclairs (to myself) for 50p. Generally it was a tasty job that provided a good source of backhander income, including reducing 40 crates of Carling to a quid each because someone out back "forgot" about them for a year. I split the bill with my mate and sold them for a tidy 700% markup. Alas, I digress...

The problem with working in a discounted section is the zombie influx of bargain hunters that emerge when darkness falls. They tend to be the mothers with 14 identical children tied to their trolleys, no knowledge of English or culture and a bigger budget for fags than food who would argue for England or whatever country they claim to be from for 5p off a ready meal.

Normally I'd oblige if the date was running out or it looked a bit scuffed, until I met the pikiest of pikey scum who decided he wanted some knock-off yoghurts. Yoghurts, if you don't know, could survive a nuclear apocolypse in terms of their sell by date. They also tend to be flimsily put together. Regardless to say, I wasn't having any of his begging and turned him down for a reduction.

In a moment of 'genius' in order to get his discount, he decides to take the damaged route by throwing his multipack of Muller yoghurt onto the floor, which promptly exploded over feet and clothes. Oblivious to how foolish he looked, he forged the smuggest self-satisfying grin ever recorded.

"It's now damaged," says he. "You better cut the price down. Plus my clothes are ruined thanks to you. I want some replacement ones".

"Okay then," say I. "I'll go get a cleaner to help get this tidied up and be with you again in a minute."

I went home. He apparently kicked off and got escorted out by security 10 minutes later when he realised he was standing in the middle of a crowded supermarket covered in cherry syrup and vanilla bellowing that he wanted free clothes.
(FoxyBadger (try saying it backwards), Thu 4 Sep 2008, 17:29, 4 replies)

I hate sales people
They should all commit mass suicide or something.

Anyway I once had some blaggard call and ask, curtly, if he could speak to Liz. 'Liz' being my very prim and proper Director Elizabeth, who I would never dare call "Liz" (Its Probably like phoning Buckingham Palace and doing the same thing)

I, stunned, reply "Um...do you mean Elizabeth?"
"Yeh"
"I'm sorry she is currently out of the office, can I take a message?" I reply in polite robotic fashion, and genuinely she was out at the time.

"Nah, well, I'm calling from -insert Gobshite mobile phone company name- about our new programme blah blah blah."

We have one mobile phone that sits in the cupboard switched off and that probably belongs in a museum.

"I'm sorry" I Interject tactfully, "We are not interested"

"So you're not interested in saving money?
"Um...no"
"Can I ask why?"
"...Because I'm a moron."
-Click-

The audacity of some people...anyway I have loads to tell, I worked in a school uniform shop in Chatham last year...
(Eldoofus, Thu 4 Sep 2008, 17:29, 4 replies)

I work in technical support.....
....so most of our customers are idiots.

Worst are the ones who have a tiny bit of knowledge, but think they have a lot, or the 'IT consultants' who don't know what basic commands are.

My fav response to these guys is to say 'you're paying for this call to Technical Support, please let me give you Technical Support sir', which usually shuts them up. :)

After 100 calls a shift I often wonder how some people manage to make it through a day such is their apparent stupidity.
(flyme, Thu 4 Sep 2008, 17:29, Reply)

I have the feeling
every time I read one of these I'm going to be chanting, "What a dumbass!" under my breath.


Note to self: Don't read QOTW at work for the next few days.
(TDub Nunc id vides, nunc ne vides on, Thu 4 Sep 2008, 17:28, Reply)

Location Specfic
I work at a place where we get lots of businesses phone in so we always ask 'where are you phoning from?'

If it isn't a business they usually say 'it is about xyz client' or something so you can sort them out faster.

However you do get the odd one...

"Can i speak to Joanna please?"

"Who can i say is calling?

"John Smith"

"And where are you phoning from?"

".....the front room."

Genius.

5t.
(fivetide, Thu 4 Sep 2008, 17:28, 2 replies)

I work at a fish shop
Well I work part time at an aquatics shop in between school, so we have some right fruit cakes coming in.

A certain man insists on coming into the shop and asking prices, the once he has been told them decides that: he doesn't want to pay that much, and also decided that i am lying. It lasted about 10 minutes with him dictating prices to me, which were nowhere near right, but then decided to start telling the owner that he doesn't know what is going on about regarding the prices.

not very good i know, but I'm crap at this thing :P


oh and there's a smelly family that come in so we open the doors and stand there wofting the odour out
(JonnySniper In accordance with the prophesy...., Thu 4 Sep 2008, 17:25, 2 replies)

Contains mild swearing and threat of moderate violence. Rated PG.
I worked in a cinema for a few years when I was a student. Great job, one of the best part-time deals going. Free cinema tickets, all the pick n' mix your tiny pockets could hide, decent hours, and I got to work in the pay-box and be abusive to anyone trying to blag a student rate. The only downside was the hideous uniform involving a stripy waistcoat, a bow-tie and a calf-length navy skirt. I refused the baseball cap on the basis that I already looked enough of a mong.

It was allocated seating as standard in each screen, so we'd chant "where would you like to sit: front, middle or back?" to everyone. When they seemed unsure we'd explain that they could move to any free seat they liked once the movie started.

One lunchtime a man came to my booth window and asked for a ticket into some non-descript film (probably Showgirls - I think it was a horror movie anyway). I asked him where he wanted to sit and he said the middle, so I issued the ticket accordingly.

Five minutes later he stormed back and banged on the window. "You put me in an empty screen!" he ranted.

I checked. I hadn't. "The screen is empty because the film doesn't start for another 10 minutes," I told him politely.

Five minutes later he seethed his way back to me and in a voice implying major catastrophe and imminent death, yelled: "I ASKED FOR MIDDLE. YOU PUT ME AT THE BACK!".

I took his ticket and checked it. "You're in row J" I replied. "There are 20 rows in that cinema. You cannot get any more central than that."

The customer does not like being wrong. He unleashed a torrent of abuse at me that included "whore", "scum", "bitch", "rude", and "stupid". Well, that did it! No one gets to call me stupid unless they're smarter than me, and he was the sort of man who points at aeroplanes with his sixth toe. I leaned forward to the spittle-flecked window, reached up, and swiftly pulled down the blind, blocking his purple face from view.

Once the foamy-mouthed ranter had finished banging on the glass and issuing dire threats I went upstairs to report the incident to my boss. I didn't make it past the first sentence before bursting into tears (this was back in the days before I'd had my niceness gland surgically removed and replaced with pure unadulterated cycnicism). My boss put her arm round my shoulder, handed me a tissue, and said "you don't have to take that kind of crap from anyone. We don't pay you enough for that."

The customer is always right up to the point where he pisses me off and then he's just a cunt.
( crackhouseceilidhband Fuck off back to Mumsnet, Thu 4 Sep 2008, 17:24, 11 replies)

I work in a post office
A customer asks

"Do you know where I can buy some stamps?"
(popurnoinplz, Thu 4 Sep 2008, 17:20, 2 replies)

And the point of that was?
Setting the scene it was Christmas Eve 1999. As we headed towards the new century the office was reducing into the merriment that only several glasses of mulled wine can bring.

I get a call from customer services, an angry customer who has to speak to a director. Being in the mood for a laugh I answered the phone.

During my 94 minute conversation we covered

- The lack of a manual with his computer
- His role in the second world war
- Why youngsters these days are layabouts
- How 'big' companies like us don't care about the customer
- The price of sugar (?!!)
- The lack of a manual with his computer

To cut his extremely long story short I offered to send him a manual, he didn't want that apparently. Asked what he wanted I was told I had answered all his questions. Presumably if 'Yes', 'mmmm' or 'Sorry you'll have to repeat that' did that then I am truly happy.

Time on my mind, about 10 seconds after the call finished until now.

When calling a company my tip is keep it brief and actually have a point.
(Outtheresomewhere, Thu 4 Sep 2008, 17:20, Reply)

Angry customers
I used to work in a pub near a church. Oddly enough I used to have long hair and my nickname (honestly!!!) was Jesus (and also Charlie) One chap had started coming in on a regular basis. Tom was his name and being a twat was what he was good at.

He would spend his afternoons sat at the bar gently swearing at other clientele, not loud enough for them to hear but loud enough for me to hear as I was stood directly opposite him.

Not wanting any trouble as there was only myself and a couple of girls working I asked him politely to stop in case he offended anyone.

"Fuck you Jesus" said Tom "I'm paying your wages, I'm keeping this fuckin bar in business so I'll say what i like to who I like coz my dad is the devil!!!"

So there he sat dissing away, annoying people and being a twat. I'd had enough so I got some mates to pop in for a few pints and give him a taste of his own medicine.

I stood and watched them take turns to cuss Thomas from Hell :0)
( SpikeyPickle wishes he was mabazaritchie, Thu 4 Sep 2008, 17:19, 4 replies)

Radio 4 said...
I worked in a bookshop once, and was busy minding my own business behind the till when a mid-60s woman (not elderly but definitely not doable) approached and stated...

"I was listening to Radio 4 last night...

(ooh how classy you are madame, I thought, way above my status as a mere bookmonger)

...and they were talking about a book. Do you have it? It was EVER so interesting but I don't know what it was called."

Says I:

"do you know the author?"

"No sorry - radio 4 last night"

"hmm,was it this? (producing the book at bedtime)

"Erm no, but it was on radio 4"

"How about this? (producing Radio 4's Book of the week)"

"No! It was on Radio 4"(slightly annoyed now)

"Okay" says I, and look for a company list of books 'in the media' that week, reading the list of books on the BBC radio stations, meanwhile my colleague looks at the bbc radio 4 site for a list - needless to say none are right...

She looks peeved "NO - it was on RADIO 4! Just put 'Radio 4' into the computer!"

Says I "Well, that won't help me find it"

"THEY SAID - JUST PUT RADIO 4 IN AND IT WOULD COME UP"

"Err, well I can search by title, author, synopsis, publisher, imprint, publication date, format, size...but not what radio station it was on."

(sighs) "Well...it can't be a very good system then can it?!"

"OK....(smiling through the rising anger)..we don't know the title or author...what was it about?!"

(angry now) "Well I don't know!

Says I:

"Must have been a great book then." (smiling)

looking shocked, walks out mumbling "I don't have to listen to this..."

She obviously would rather have been listening to Radio 4.
(Andrelius67JHHVGC7 Han har stillet træskoene, Thu 4 Sep 2008, 17:17, 9 replies)

"How do I get upstairs?"
"You see those stairs over there..."
Three times, three different people, the same day.
( Dr Preference AjcuiVd289, Thu 4 Sep 2008, 17:14, 2 replies)

Back in the dim and distant past
I was the assistant manager of a store in Guildford.

If you've not had the pleasure of visiting Guildford I shall explain. It is a very nice town which is rather close to London and is therefore populated by cunts. (I apologise to people from Guildford, but I yet to have evidence to the contrary).

The store I worked in was one which sold rather nice house stuff. That meant that our main customers were the wives of said cunts. And believe me they were too.

Throughout the course of the week I'm sure I will remember a number of dealings with said cunts but here is one to get you going.

One Christmas we got in some motorised mirror balls. They proved to be very popular.
Now, this shop had glass doors. One night we had just closed and locked the doors. We were still in the shop but were busy getting our bags and coats to head home.
As we got our stuff and headed to the door we could see this woman charging towards the door like a female pitbull on HRT. We turned the lights out, as we were on our way out, figuring that she would realise we were closed.
Nope, she just charged into the locked closed door leaving a face print on the glass.
Struggling to cover our laughter we unlocked the door and went out.
"I need to come in" shrieked the woman.
"Sorry we are closed and have cashed up" replied my manager.
"Well of all the nerve" replied the woman.

The next day was very busy as it was about 3 weeks before Christmas and these fucking Guildford women can't cope unless their houses look like something out of Homes and cunting Gardens.
At about lunchtime who should walk in but the bulldog that was bothering us after we closed.

"I need a mirror ball"
"sorry" said my manager "we sold the last one this morning.
"Well I tried to buy one last night but YOU wouldn't let me"
"We had closed up and were going home"
"I don't care about that, I need that mirror ball, can you get one in?"
"Sorry I tried to order some today but the suppliers won't have any now before Christmas".
This is a direct quote:
"Well what am I supposed to do now?"

I'd love to say "ask someone who gives a fuck" but sadly I didn't.
Not the most exciting of stories I know but there are many more to come.
Hopefully with better pay offs.
( Mrs Entity is in hiding., Thu 4 Sep 2008, 17:05, 5 replies)

I write for a PC magazine
Yesterday an old Irish fella phoned up, saying he was having problems with his Windows System Restore.

"Sorry, I don't know anything about computers," I said. He believed me too.
( krang, Thu 4 Sep 2008, 17:04, Reply)

I work in IT support
More often than not, if you ask the customer "have you tried ....." they will say "yes and it still doesn't work".

You remotely log into their machine to find that they haven't tried ..... They didn't actually understand what ..... was so they just said "yes" for the fuck of it.

Cunts.
( Joliet, Thu 4 Sep 2008, 17:03, 4 replies)

I had another arsey customer once
Because I wouldn't serve his 15 year old daughter a pint of Stella. He then started getting arsier.

"I have a right to send a letter to the Sleaford Standard!*"

"And the headline would be "Local Pub Doesn't Break Law"? Good luck, mate.."

I like kicking people out of the pub.
(__, Thu 4 Sep 2008, 17:02, 1 reply)

Well now

Us posters are customers of b3ta are we not? We like to put suggestions for the QOTW on the suggestions board do we not? Then how come, whenever I go to the board and stick /all at the top, there are some decent ideas that seem to be pretty popular but are never chosen?

Must be because us arsy QOTWers (or OTers now) are the customers from hell - what have we done to the lovely QOTW? Why can't we just post our lame stories and then fuck away off (as they say in N.Ireland, I'm told).

Well I'd like to complain about this subject, in fact, I've brought it back and I'd like a refund please. I've been F5-ing for about two hours - let's be nice and call it £16 per hour - that's £32 you lot owe me. And that's just today!

I know, I know: if I hate it so much why don't I shop somewhere else? Because I can't be arsed - so live with it.

Hmmm. Bit of a rant. Might go home and try to think of a proper post now.

See youse all tomorrow.

Love Che
(Che Grimsdale Best before:, Thu 4 Sep 2008, 17:02, 3 replies)

I worked at a pub
He drinks a beer called Cool. It's a smooth-flow bitter. After me changing the barrel, it was extremely lively to pour. This is what happens after you change a barrel of beer and the pressure guage is being fucked up because of the cold weather.

After I poured the first pint of the new barrel, the head on the pint was a bit too much. Oops. This was because of the fuced up pressure guage mentioned earlier. He started ranting and raving about "I paid to have a pint! This is isn't a full pint!". I calmed him down, and told him to take a sip of his pint so I could top it up for him. All calm. All peaceful.

The next time he asked for a pint, the pressure guage went back to normal. I poured him a perfect pint of bitter. He took a sip, and asked for a top up. I was confused. He was confused. "Why?" I ask. "Well, you did it last time.." he replied. "No" I say. "Oh", he accepts.

This customer then has a third pint. The head, again, isn't perfect, but it's acceptible for Trading Standards quality. Once it settles, he examines his 3mm-more-than-usual head on his pint, and explodes.

"Oi! Barkeep" he barks at me in an angry manner. "Do you want me to take a sip out of this?" he asks, expecting me to top the beer up.

"If you want to", I reply. "But you can have the whole pint if you want, seeing as you paid for it".
(__, Thu 4 Sep 2008, 17:02, 4 replies)

more than anything
i hate:

"just a quick question..."

it is never ever a quick question. it is always a briefly phrased but in depth technical legal question that actually takes quite some time to research and answer correctly.

and then you will ALWAYS, without exception, query the bill and refuse to pay for the work, because you only asked "just a quick question". grrrrr.

humph.
( rachelswipe with a fork, Thu 4 Sep 2008, 17:00, 6 replies)

I worked in a branch of Habitat
for a couple of years when I was a student. I sold lampshades, beds and bathroomy things.

Every second customer: "This bathroom cabinet is an overpriced piece of wanky junk and has broken".

Me: "Yup"

And the customer was completely right. Don't waste your money on rebranded, overpriced Ikea goods.
( crackhouseceilidhband Fuck off back to Mumsnet, Thu 4 Sep 2008, 16:59, Reply)

The 'ART' dillema
A lot of my work involves dealing with artists. I have to pretend to like their work, and let them express their dislike of the work of (often more talented) other artists.

99.9995% of all the stuff I see is either incompetent, self-indulgent ego-wank (men) or sugary, insipid drivelly visual mush (women).

Thank god there's that 0.0005% of really good artists to keep me sane.
( MisterPunch did it that way on, Thu 4 Sep 2008, 16:55, 1 reply)

As I may have mentioned on here before I had the misfortune of working at Toys R Us
Now since the company sells nothing but shite we did tend to get a lot of returns. None however quite as abusive as who was to become known as the 'GoKart Woman'.

All was going as well as can be expected on that fateful day when in she walked, GOKart in hand. She was a big fat mess of a woman. The sort of person McDonalds staff knew by name. The KFC loyalty card holder. She marched up to where I was standing at the returns section, and the conversation went something like this:

Her - "This fucking fing dunt fucking work"

Me - "In what sense?"

Her - "Second gear dunt fucking work"

Me - "Its a GoKart, it doesn't have gears"

Her - "It fucking does dickhead. Look"

At this point I decided that the best course of action would be to annoy her as much as possible with excessive politeness and making her feel stupid.

Me - "I'm afraid thats the free wheel function madam. Its for when you're going down hills so the pedals don't go too fast. If you'de have read the instructions you would have known that"

Her (now flustered and getting angrier)- "Well I'm not happy with the brake"

Me - "I'm afraid that its in full working order madam. There's nothing I can do for you I'm afraid."

Her - "I WANT A FUCKING REFUND FUCKING NOW!"

Me - "No"

She then proceeded to throw the GoKart at me over the counter and stormed out of the store. So she was left with neither a GoKart or a refund. We meanwhile were left with a free GoKart, which we had sold on within 10 minutes.
( Furness, Thu 4 Sep 2008, 16:54, 5 replies)

customers
I've always found customers from Hull to be quite pleasant.

(shit pun out of the way, so no one else need lower themselves to this level!)
( SeasonTicketless is too often the statue, and rarely the pigeon., Thu 4 Sep 2008, 16:52, 2 replies)

Okay, I do have stories on topic, but I've been waiting to post this tale.
Sorry for this being off-topic, but I wanted to wait for the new question so that you could all share it with me.

So last night I left the office around 6:00, one of the few stragglers still here at the end of the day. I took my lunch bag and my iPod and went to my car- an elderly Isuzu Amigo- and opened the door to toss them in, when I heard a car horn beep. Puzzled, I looked around, and spied a man sitting inside a brand new silver Corvette waving me over.

“Hey, can you help me get out? I’m stuck in here!”

I looked at him for a moment, the obvious question going through my head.

“Can you try opening the door from the outside?” he asked, sweat rolling down his face as he baked in the August sunlight.

“Sure.” I grabbed the door handle and tugged, and realized that my hand was holding onto a pressure switch- there was no mechanical latch. And the door refused to open.

“I think the battery is dead. Do you have jumper cables?”

I looked in the Amigo, but no such luck- the cables were in the other car. “Hang on, I’ll see if anyone inside has a set of cables.”

I went back into the building and found my boss. “Hey, do you have a set of jumper cables?”

“No, I don’t have a car- I ride a bike to work. Why, what’s wrong?”

“You know the silver Corvette that’s always in the parking lot? It belongs to (really big boss’s name here). He’s trapped in it- it has electronic door latches and he can’t get out.”

My boss gaped for a moment, then howled with laughter. The few remaining people in the office prairie-dogged in their cubicles to see what was going on, so I repeated my request for cables and my explanation of why. There was much laughter, but no cables.

I trotted back outside to Big Boss, who was now soaking wet inside his closed car with the black interior in the sun. “No such luck. Hey, can you open the trunk?”

He tried the key fob again, with no result- but then remembered a lever near the floor, and the hatch popped open. I raised it and felt the heat wash out of there. “Well, if nothing else you can crawl out this way,” I told him. “Meanwhile I have a friend who lives not far from here- I’ll call him and get him to bring cables.”

Richard is an old friend, one of my classmates from engineering school, and a true car geek. Richard was puzzled as I tried to explain what was going on, and finally agreed to bring cables and I’d explain it to him when he arrived. About ten minutes later he roared in driving his own silver Corvette and pulled up alongside Big Boss. I ran through the explanation again, and he chuckled and got out his cables. We hooked them up and Big Boss tried to start the car again- no luck.

“Crap!” I said to Richard. “If it’s not the battery, what else could it be?”

“I dunno, but at least I can open the door.” Richard reached into the trunk and tugged on a loop of very fine steel cable, and there was a click. Big Boss emerged from his car, looking relieved.

“Damn, you’d think that Chevy would realize that this is a major design flaw!” I said with a laugh. “The only electronics in my car are in the stereo, and it’s broken right now.”

Richard looked into the car. “Hey, the lights are on now, and the windshield wipers are going.”

Big Boss pressed his keyfob, and the lights flashed. He pressed again and the car roared to life. Three engineers looked at each other, puzzled. “I guess opening the door reset something,” Big Boss commented.

“Well, there should be another door release under the front seat somewhere,” Richard said. “It should be in the owner’s manual.”

I chuckled. “I think maybe you’d better find out where it is and make sure you know how to find it again, just in case.”

Big Boss agreed with a wry smile. I shook his hand. “See you here tomorrow.” He thanked me, offered Richard some money (which he refused), and left.

When he was out of our sight I about fell over with laughter. “The best part is, that guy’s an engineer!”

Richard’s eyes bugged. “You’re kidding!”

“No! He’s the Director of Technology here!” And I cracked up again.

I haven’t seen Big Boss in here yet this morning. I suspect that he’ll do the Sneak In Of Shame at some point- but as his office is right next to mine, he can’t go undetected.

Poor guy- pwn3d by his own car.

Priceless.

EDIT: I've concluded that the Corvettes must run on Microsoft, because periodically you have to close all the windows and get out of the car and get back in again for it to run...
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Thu 4 Sep 2008, 16:50, 6 replies)

gaaaaaaaah
The customer is almost always without fault ill informed, ill mannered, and a cunt.

Everyone who has ever worked customer services will agree, the odd nice one, and a legion of cuntyfistfuckers

edit: and now I have actually read the question i will edit and insert a story or four later, might include the legend that was mr engine shed from when I worked in a library.

Haaaaaardcore!!
(Halfy By light alone, Thu 4 Sep 2008, 16:50, Reply)

Customers from hell
Are the ones bidding for my soul.

Length? Eternal.
( mistaspakkaman and the inedible shifting caterpillars, Thu 4 Sep 2008, 16:49, 1 reply)

second!
first time ever!
( ascorbate, Thu 4 Sep 2008, 16:49, Reply)

Arrogant university cockheads
I work for a taxi company in a small town with a university. The students are are mostly rich kids from overseas and are generally arrogant as fuck.

Example:

"Taxi from town to ****?"
"Where abouts in town?
"TOWN!"
"'Town' is a bit vague. Where abouts in town?"
*click*

They usually call back a few minutes later wondering where their taxi is.
( Noeli overtheshoulderboulderholderthingstraplatchboobs, Thu 4 Sep 2008, 16:48, 4 replies)