There was this fat shouty man...
..when I worked at Homebase, waaay back when it was Sainsbury's Homebase, and (rumour hath it) Mrs Sainsbury herself had designed the green and white check shirt with fawn tie concealed behind bright green dungarees with orange stitchwork.

...Anyway, mr Shouty had a broken hosepipe, and he wanted a certain connection, perhaps the correct interface with his outdoor tap? I don't recall. We didn't sell his brand of hose accessory, and the more he waved it at me, the more I sadly related this fact. For some reason, this made him almost irrationally angry, shouty and hostile, culminating with the words "Don't you know who I am...?"

...It was TV's Mr Roger Cook. Luckily as I drove home that night, he made no attempt to film me through my car window, and my doorstep remains unambushed. (though I do live some 5000 miles away now.)

This also reminds me of the *terribly* smelly man who appeared at my till one morning, and although not a word was exchanged, from an olfactory point of view, this chap was well acquainted with Dis, so I guess he counts here. Although mid morning, he was wearing a vest which bore witness to a breakfast of eggs and ketchup, striations of which Pollocked the front. This was offset with what I can only term "Tramp's aftershave" - strong BO with stale alcohol. A small amount of goods was paid, unusually for the time, with a credit card. A GOLD one. This is back when this meant something, now, of course, everyone has one made of Caesium, even though they explode when it rains. So I look at the name on the card....

...It was TV's Rumpole of the Bailey, Leo McKern.

I also served TV's Mr Leslie Crowther, and noted beat combo frontman Mr Peter Gabriel, but they were both lovely.
(Mousy Tongue ...Generally bemused by life..., Sun 7 Sep 2008, 7:05, 3 replies)

I worked in a bar...
...which was known as Grab A Granny, because of it's quite aged (compared to other bars) customers.

Anyway, for a while they did a ladies night promotion, where I worked topless for the ladies. Worked for me, I made almost £70 in tips on Good Friday, in a place where you're usually lucky to make £7. But yeah, it's this Good Friday, and the tips are already mounting up to the degree where I'm making change from them in the till, so there's a few £10 notes in there, along with masses of small change. The point I'm laboring here is that I was already doing well on tips when a relatively old woman comes up to the bar and orders a drink.

I do my job; I make the drink, I flirt a little, and then, as I hand her her change, she triumphantly holds up a fifty pence piece which she proceeds to drop in my tip jar.

"That was a fifty pee that, gorgeous, I think that deserves a kiss!"

Wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong.
(tero if I had a website, this is where I would plug it, Sun 7 Sep 2008, 6:27, 4 replies)

i used to work in a restaurant
a good old fashioned Eat 'n' Park...the place for smiles ya know. i was working the register and this lady walks in a wants to buy a pie.
stupid bitch. "id like a strawberry pie"
Me. "we dont have a whole one at the moment we can make one if you would like to wait."
*it was our breakfast rush on Sunday after church so it was quite busy and i didnt really have time to make a pie
bitch. "ok fine, how long because im in a hurry"
Me. "Give me ten or fifteen minutes"
So i had to run around and find a manager to take over the register go in the back and cut all the damn strawberries and put the gross strawberry goo all over it and load it with whipped topping. after about 15 of pit making i walk out and there is the bitch waiting for her pie. so i package it all up right in front of her, the whole pie. i put it in a bag ring it up and hand it to her with a big smile and she says.
"Oh i just wanted a piece of pie"
Me. incredibly frustrated because we had about half a pie that i could have cut, "oh im sorry but you didnt say a piece you said you wanted a pie."
bitch. "no i said a piece...can i see your manager"
me now uber pissed off go get my manager and tell her what happened and then this lady completely freaks out saying how she had to wait a whole 15 minutes for something she asked for!
people are so stupid they need to be sent to their own island. i quit that job because i couldnt deal with all the dumbass people
(closetgeek, Sun 7 Sep 2008, 6:19, Reply)

From hell or going there
Not so much about difficult customers - more about different customers.

My friend worked in retail in a department store (Myer).

She'd have family members trying to return unused underwear they had recovered from the drawers of the recently deceased. Something about that freaks me out.

And elderly people coming in to buy 'a going to hospital kit' to put in a bag in the expectation that something bad would happen soon.

I still cringe at the memory of her telling the tale of the old dear who informed the staff she needed to shove toilet paper up her bottom to prevent leakage.

So really, if you are having to put up with annoying customers then chances are you are doing ok.
( enoughblueskyforsailorstrousers, Sun 7 Sep 2008, 5:46, Reply)

I'm a security officer....
So I've seen my share of nightmare customers. couple examples follow:

1) Ok, so there are alot of differences in Sottish and English law, for starts the 24Hr alcohol licensing doesnt happe in Scotland. The latest a shop/supermarket can sell acomahols is 10pm While contracted out to the "lowest bidder" (Resco... or some pish like that) I heard a scuffle happening over by the Tills. So I wandered over to see if anyone was bleeding yet. (They niknamed my store Bosnia!)

I see a Short, Skinny, Manky looking skin-head Yelling at the poor lassie...

Cunt: I'm just wanting a few FUCKING cans!

Cashier: Sorry sir, but due to scottish licensing laws we cannot sell alcohol after 10pm, The time now is 10.02pm sir. The till won't let me put it through.
(very well done on her part)

Cunt: If this was chelsea I'd cut your fucking ears off!

TB: Sorry sir but this isnt't chealsea, If you dont behave

Cunt: Where the fuck did you come from

TB: Thats enough, out you go. Or I'll call the police

(walking him to the door, He had calmed a little then said...)

Cunt: Fuck Scotish law!
Just as the police walked in (management called them) The police bounced him up and down a bit before taking him in ;D

2) 2 Guys and a telly! While working out of town. i was covering another "Resco" Andthe manager told me to follow a female customer. "Aye her mate, total junkie" (out o earshot) So I'm subtly tracing her movements and keeping an eye out for any sign of consealed items or hidden pockets. When the front door alarm goes off (you know the one when the cashier forgets to take the tags off your clothing/boose/DVD's!) So I Jog over to check it out. and there is a staff meber saying "they ran that way."

Well they already got a head start on me so theres no way I'm catching them. So I go to the CCTV room and start checking the tapes...

You see the 2 guys come in and then just sprint with A TV. I got the times and camera numbers written down for my report and I see on the monitor the police walking in with the TV. They cought the buggers down the road. First thing they said was "we never knicked it!"

About an hour of giving statements and signing out the Tapes and stuff. I finally get toe the shop floor and the manager (that advised me to watch somone else) says "Why weren't you paying attention to the guys with the TV?" (Infront of all the other managers)

I screamed "DICK!" in his ear... (ok I didn't, but I wanted to)




Got LOads more but I dont have the time to write them all up.

Length: Proud enough!
(tammybear1985, Sun 7 Sep 2008, 5:13, Reply)

once upon a time, i used to work in a camera shop.
the morning, it was a wednesday, had begun quietly. tumbleweeds blew across the floor of the empty shop. we watched the seconds turn into minutes until 12.30. as usual, the crowds were spying from the top of the hill for one of us to leave the shop to go and get some lunch before they launched their attack, like the zulus at rorke's drift. suddenly, we were surrounded.

'hi, how can i help?'
'it's alright, thanks, i'll wait for the gentleman.'
'he might be a while. perhaps you could explain the problem? i might be able to help.'
'no, thank you, i'll wait.'
'in that case, please bear with us. hello sir, how can i help?'
'hello. i have a film here, but i'm not sure if it's been used or not. could you tell me?'
'no, sir. the only way we could tell that would be to get it developed.'
'is there a charge for that?'
'yes, 2.99 if it's unexposed and 3.99 if there are pictures.'
'can't you just have a look?'
'no, sir. that would expose the film and ruin any images.'
'but can't you use that dark bag?' as he spoke, he mimed the action of pulling the film out and holding it up to the...
'oh, i see what you mean. oh well, thanks very much.'
'no problem. hello sir, how can i help?'
'i brought this camera from you not even two weeks ago and then i took it on holiday, which cost a small fortune incidentally, and it didn't work. the lights didn't come on, the lens didn't pop out, nothing, so i haven't been able to take any pictures at all on a holiday our family had been planning for several years, a once in a lifetime trip, and we're left with absolutely no pictures to remember it by. what do you intend to do about it?'
'i'm terribly sorry to hear that sir, perhaps you could let me see the camera? thanks. well the first thing i'd mention is that there's a dent in the body, here. that indicates impact damage.'
'what?'
'impact damage, sir. the camera has been dropped, or otherwise received an impact. from something.'
'well, i can assure you that it's been in its case the entire time, so it can't have. it must have happened in the factory.'
'they come off a production line so it would be rather unusual, and wouldn't explain why you have sand in the battery compartment, which erodes the camera's workings. would you like me to get it sent for an estimate to repair?'
'absolutely not, i've never heard such rubbish. i won't be coming here again.'
'alright, sir. hi, how can i help?'
'i want weights.'
'i'm sorry?'
'weights.'
'weights? er... we're a camera shop. what kind of weights are you talking about? counter weights?'
'weights! i've been getting them here for years.'
''m sorry, i don't think we can help you.'
'weights! WEIGHTS!'
'er... ok, let me see if someone else can help.' i popped out the back to find john the manager, who was eating his lunch and looked at me grimly.
'john, there's a mad old biddy out front asking for weights. sorry to disturb you but she won't budge. i'm stuck.'
'ok, i'm coming,' he snarled, wiping his mouth.
'hello there, how can i help?'
'i want weights.'
'weights? oh, you mean waites. i'm sorry, love. this is a camera shop. it hasn't been a tobacconist for twenty years. and i'm not sure they make that brand anymore, but they sell cigarrettes next door.'
'i want waites. the other man always sells them to me. waites!'
'alright madam, bear with me a moment, i'll go and have a look.' john walked the length of the counter, bending his legs with every step to give the impression on the other side of the counter of walking down stairs. crouching next to the till rolls and boxes of lens caps, he paused for a moment, then turned and walked back, standing up further with every step until he faced her again.
'i'm sorry madam, we're out of stock.'
'bloody typical', she mumbled as she hobbled out of the shop.

and so passed the next couple of hours, during which our stomachs rumbled from lack of food and our cheeks began to hurt from polite smiles. at last, we seemed to be defeating the queue, only two were left. seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, i beamed a genuine smile at the scruffy, awkward looking fellow who reminded me of the ex-leper in life of brian, shifting from side to side.

'hello, sir, sorry to keep you waiting. how can i help?'
'do you sell compasses?'
if you ever need a compass, go to a camera shop. i don't know why, but they always sell compasses. perhaps because they also begin with c.
'yes, sir, we do. they start at 8.99 for the basic one, but we also do ones with mirror sighting, or for use with either metric or imperial scales.. would you like to have a look?'
'yes, thanks.'
he looked at them with a mixture of suspicion and fear.
'would you like any advice, sir?'
'er, no thanks. but,' he paused, scratching his head. 'er, do you have any that don't always point north?'
the effort i put into not laughing was wasted by the last guy in the queue who proper pissed himself. i saw the bewilderment in ex-leper's eye.
'no, we don't, sir. but you could try dixons.'
(threadkiller, Sun 7 Sep 2008, 4:30, Reply)

Customer service? Gord shits it.
www.actsofgord.com
(King of Swandanavia Proud owner of the worlds first Flong, Sun 7 Sep 2008, 4:05, 1 reply)

Working in Clydesdale (Electrical)
While working in Clydesdale shop in Parkhead, Glasgow (1984) I got a customer who came in and asked what kind of portable televisions we had, I took him over to where the televisions were and asked him if it was a color or black & white tv he was looking for, to which he replied...... I dunno, whats the difference?... Its to go on a brown coffee table!

Doh !
(Double, Sun 7 Sep 2008, 1:18, Reply)

I used to be a manager in a Hotel
...quite a posh one of the Spa variety, where I learned that rich people have not necessarily become rich because they're clever.

Like the guest who called to reception from his €600 a night suite to rant about 'the useless fucking hotel and it's useless fucking staff; I've been sitting here for an hour trying to turn the TV on, I've been pressing the remote and nothing's happening. You'd better get this sorted right now.'

100+ rooms = 100+ TVs: not unusual that once in a while there would be dead batteries in the remote or even a broken TV. So off up to his room I went. When I got there I made the mistake of pressing the button on the front of the TV (which brought the TV to life) in full view of his wife; this did not go down well, because I'd now made him out to be an idiot, on top of him being a rude prick.

I smiled & left the room. It was nice to win for once...

Whingers are usually just looking for money off, the freeloading bastards. This usually resulted in a smile, a discount on their room rate and a 'Wanker Tax' being added elsewhere to compensate.
(minlan no longer barks at bancleys, Sun 7 Sep 2008, 0:40, Reply)

Crooner and Chimney
These two people culminated to give me the worst night at work I've ever had. Mostly one guy, but the other one certainly didn't help.

Twas a 5-til-close shift, I wandered through to the bar to find two drinkers and the colleague I was to relieve of duty. Instead of the usual casual greeting, I get this:

Colleague: "You in here tonight?"
Moi "Yes."
Colleague: "Thank fuck." *leaves hastily*

Strange behaviour, I thought, but I was soon to find out why.

Firstly, one of the drinkers - let's call him Fatfuck McStinkyTits - got kicked out fairly quickly after being caught smoking in the toilets. Might've gotten away with it had he not gone to light up right in-cocking-front of me. Yet he did, clumsily apologising when I pointed out his folly.

One down.

Sadly, he was not the trouble. The trouble was a 50-year-old clump of grease who fancied himself a jack-the-lad romantic... is that even possible? Overly fond of the phrase 'I defy the contradiction'. Let's cut this down to a list, shall we?

* Told me of his recent divorce (at age 50 I might add) and his failure of a son. Multiple times. Without remembering telling me the first time.
* Combined a pint of Tennants with a vodka and coke. Twice.
* Tried to convince me I wasn't an athiest. He failed.
* Asked me when I lost my virginity. Was so dumbfounded I answered honestly with a poker face.
* Went to shake my hand and wouldn't let go. Then sang to me.
* Did the same to other staff and people who went to the bar. (prompting someone to give their name as "Scott - as in 'Scott fuck all to do with you.'")
* Repeatedly said that he loved me like his son. Who he also said he hated for being a failure.
* Insisted he would come back to see me at New Years (then days away) - I would rather have eaten out Widdecome.

Finally left about 2 hours before my shift ended. Had to have a long shower when I got in just to feel human again. Thankfully hasn't darkened our stools since.

Great, now I've told that story I have to go stand in the shower for an hour and shudder.
( Iki I think my camel is dead., Sun 7 Sep 2008, 0:20, 1 reply)

to many to mention
Dear god where do i start ??????

I have worked in retail for 12+ years and have that reached the conclusion that customers are cretins in the extreme.

Example ?-one dear soul who returned an item of apparel after a year and complained that they had worn out !!

I have been sworn at/threatened and insulted more times than i care to remember and have a Travis Bickle like view of the public.
(shug, Sat 6 Sep 2008, 23:50, Reply)

This one time
I was handling this MASSIVE rebranding project for a publicly listed company. My part of it involved a HUGE website re-design and the production of 7 videos in a ridiculously short period of time.

The client did not like writing things down or sending e-mails so would insist that I go round to her office for 'meetings'. Her office was miles away and a ten minute meeting took away half my day.

I charged for my time and I warned the client that all these half days would add to the cost of the job.

I often had to just flat out say I could not come round as I had to work on her project and would she mind maybe just talking over the phone or even emailing me. She balked at the idea.

So after a lot of hard work and one member of my team suffering a breakdwon we pulled it off.

The day of the launch we watched the share price climb and climb. The company made millions of the back of our work and we were delighted.

My boss asked the client for feedback and her one criticism was that I didn't spend enough time with her.

I had just made them very rich indeed and she used that moment to criticise me.

Weeks later I sent her the bill with all the additional time charges for our half days meetings and surprise surprise - she refused to pay.

"I never asked him to come out here." she said.

I quit the whole industry soon after. Now I make money for me and me only.

Fuckers.
( BadBadman saw an incorrect comma placement on, Sat 6 Sep 2008, 23:21, Reply)

A friend who works in a pizza shop
told me of a woman who came in and asked for a medium pizza 'cut into six slices please, I can't eat eight'.
(and now for someone completely different, Sat 6 Sep 2008, 23:17, 1 reply)

I work in McDonalds
sadly. I hear you all scoffing, as I must have a low IQ and the appearance of an unwashed pubescent child. I assure you this is not the case, and I am fed up with the stick we get for working there. The only reason I'm working for them is because no-where else would hire me, as I'd never had a job before, and I need some money to go to university.

Anyway. No matter how bad you think the staff in McDonalds are, and I admit there are some pricks, the customers are a hell of a lot worse. We get the people that walk in and ask for a "McDonald's", and nothing else. Cue look of confusion, and a loooooong conversation trying to figure out what they want. Then there's the people that take fucking ages getting their wallet/purse/generic money carrying device out and finding money, which, to be honest, they should have done while standing in line. I always do. And those are just the small things. Just a few hours ago, I was working on the top lobby (in the Coventry store, some of you might have seen me working there), when a group of little chavs, must have been around 8 or 9 years old, decide that fire extinguishers are good toys. There goes my relatively quiet day, having to mop up water from half of the seating area. The workers in my store are regularly punched/slapped/grabbed threateningly by drunken or just plain idiotic customers, and of course we get the hobos.

One guy used to come in every day, stinking of piss, and ordered a coffee. What's wrong with that?! I hear you cry. Well, nothing, until he used the toilet. And shat on the floor, and spread it EVERYWHERE. We started locking the toilet when he came in after a few of them. I never see him anymore..

And my friend told me a story of some pikey family that were sitting upstairs quite a few years back, when one of the kids pulled down his pants and shat right in the middle of the seating area. His mother didn't even bat an eyelid. In the end the kid had to clean it up himself. Inbred little shits.

So yeah, lay off the McDonald's workers, we don't like the job, and the customers don't help.
(Ethong is enjoying Cardiff. Especially Bogiez., Sat 6 Sep 2008, 22:30, 14 replies)

customers
I worked in a computer shop for a while. We had one customer who everyone despised who we liked to call "The Pikey".

This bloke was arrogant, rude and mind bogglingly stupid and would often come in late in the day to annoy us all.

My favorite remarks from him came during a particularly arduous shift where he complained that the wireless 360 pad he had bought had no wires with it. He then asked me if Halo 3 was the third one in the series.

I was sniggering like hell and had to go in the back room to avoid laughing in his face.
(andythepieman Is surfing the waves of indifference on, Sat 6 Sep 2008, 22:28, 1 reply)

I work in the bakery of a supermarket
One day I'm putting tarts out on a stand and two customers run over to grab them thinking they'll be nice and hot (they weren't but they were only a few hours out of the oven).

One of them (lady) starts giving out saying they are stale and rock solid, the other (guy) joins in. Then they start asking me to get a fresh one from inside.

My boss comes out, and tells them they're fresh. Lady backs down, saying "oh I was only winding him up" and runs away. But that other cunt just won't give it up.

"How old are these, when did ye make them?etc etc"

"Well we just baked them earlier, and we don't make them we get them in frozen and..."

"That's it! They're frozen! Frozen solid!" and walks away quite content with himself.

WTF?

Fair play to my boss too, as cunty was walking away, boss turned to us and shouts: "How many many times have I told ye not to put out those 3 day old tarts"
(cH3$h7846J#7, Sat 6 Sep 2008, 21:28, Reply)

Ooh one for me...
I work for a big supermarket chain in one of its small quick format store with a petrol station of a big oil company attached. It is in a fairly well to do area thats is also inhabitat by chavs so I get my share of crap from twats of all classes, so here are quick tips to make your shopping trip nicer and quicker for everybody concerned. I could go on for ages but these are my pet hates:
- When drawing fuel, from picking up the noozle to the fuel flowing takes a little time for it to happen we have to authorise in the kiosk, during this time we have check your age, that your not going to blow everybody up and what your filling up, plus the we are often serving customers at the same time, therefore waving your arms about like a mong does not speed the process because your too impatient, hell we may even make you wait longer.
-Get it through your skull, stay off your mobile whilst drawing fuel, concentrate on the job in hand, I have heard all the sermons before about it's not dangerous blah blah, its the rule, deal with it or fuck off.
-We are only human and therefore we will make mistakes, tell us and we will usually sort it with no fuss, being rude will just makes you a wanker.
-If your using a debit/credit card, if they work great, if they don't, don't blame me, call your bank, twat.
-If you smell, please don't be offended if I back away.
-You look under 21 I WILL ID you, I don't give a shit about you or any social event I may have ruined. My life will be made misery in so many different ways if I sell underage as happened to two friends of mine. If it keeps happening to you, get ID Dumb Arse.
-5p off a litre won't be accepted here, that fact is cleverly in black and white on the coupon, read it Fool before drawing fuel.
However, If there is a hot girl in the Q for the tills, it is not uncommon for the speed of it to increase considerably. The speed is in proportion how many blokes there are serving.
Be friendly and polite it will usually be returned, I don't particularly enjoy my job, it is not what I want in career, but good customers can brighten a dull day and it is so much more pleasant for everybody!
(KavyMan Living on the ceiling, no more room down there..., Sat 6 Sep 2008, 21:27, 6 replies)

Oh Dear
I have just realised with mind numbing clarity that I am an unethical scumbag and a customer from hell.

I have just had a texas bbq pizza delivered from dominos ordered specifically *without* the bbq sauce, just normal pizza sauce thank you.

It arrived in perfect condition as ordered, with tomato sauce instead of bbq.

Yet I found myself on the phone straight away complaining that it had been delivered with the bbq sauce I had asked they didn't put on.

They are now sending me a new one sans bbq sauce.

I feel...

numb.
(powervator and NONE SHALL PASS, Sat 6 Sep 2008, 21:07, 6 replies)

right then flame away see if i care
this...

www.guardian.co.uk/money/2003/sep/27/tax.jobsandmoney

is still for my money the BEST response ever written to a somewhat dissatisfied customer

yes you may have seen it

yes it off TEH INTERNET

yes it is old

but as my dear grandmother would say piss up a rope fuckstick

!
( spimf ™ is whoever you want him to be, Sat 6 Sep 2008, 21:00, 14 replies)

Working at Edinburgh castle
And despite the usual stupid bloody questions (when does the one o'clock gun go off? How many rides are inside? etc) that Americans ask, I managed to get quite offended the other day. I was talking to a pair of middle aged American ladies, and one went off to get the tickets. Coming back a couple of minutes later, she joking remarked to her friend "Oh my god, stop flirting with the help." I could've hit her.
(wing_cmdr I mean not real, but almost a real hologram, Sat 6 Sep 2008, 20:59, Reply)

A few spring to mind
I've had a few shit jobs in the past that have unfortunately bought me into contact with some right assholes. I know that most customers are fine, but by the law of averages you're gonna run into a few idiots....

1)Working in a kitchen as a washer upper - I only heard what was going on but it made the chefs amazingly angry - and angry chefs are not the best friend of the poor bastards washing up.... One woman asked for a salad - being a vegetarian. She got the salad, fair enough but then sent it back, as the waitress could not guaruntee that the salad only contained organic veg. The woman later selected key lime pie for desert but asked it to be made without limes as she was allergic to them. Limes, strangely enough are a pretty essential part of making a key lime pie.

2)I worked as a contract cleaner for a large department store, and was almost constantly barraged by questions asking things which I knew nothing about - being a cleaner and not shop staff - often within a stones throw of an actual shop assistant. If they where relatively polite I'd do my best to help them but there where a fair few who where amazinly rude. These people I would direct to random areas of the store as far away as possible from where they where meant to be. And one woman stands out in particular. She asked me, well more demanded that I tell her wether a coat was on sale or not. I began to explain that if it was on sale, it would be marked on sale but she rudely interrupted, asking me the same question again. So I told her that it was on sale at 70% off and left for another area of the store before the shit hit the fan
(Fredz A graveyard of hopes, a dump of ambition, Sat 6 Sep 2008, 20:13, 2 replies)

CHILDREN
If kids can be classed as customers, then they are indeed customers from hell.

ESPECIALLY, if they are in water, and you are at at their height.

THEREFORE, you are face level with a child who likes to swallow water and spit it back out in your face, and then proceed to throw up on you.

It's also not a great day at work when some other child decides to 'do a chocolate egg' in the water, leaving you to swim in water complete with flecks of their shimmering faeces.
(Dramamine, Sat 6 Sep 2008, 20:06, Reply)

His name is ...
Ok, the only really hellish thing about this customer was the difficulty of trying not to laugh, but here we go.

Until today, I worked in a home furnishings store. A customer bought some stuff, couldn't carry it and was going to send her son in to pick it up.
"You'll know who he is," she assured us. "He's 25, he's about this tall, blond, and his name ... is Lol."
I stare.
"That's L-O-L: LOL."
"Yes ms. I think I'll remember that."
(Killer Vanilla puts the win in Darwin, Sat 6 Sep 2008, 19:43, 8 replies)

Just a quickie
I used to work in Hanningtons in Brighton. It was a very old fashioned department store. Very much like Grace Brothers.
One day we were all called to the main part of the store, before the store opened for the day, for a meeting. We were told that the store was closing and we were all loosing our jobs.

As you can imagine moral amongst the staff was at an all time low that day.

This store had it's own store card and 'I'm an account customer' was often used by the dumb cunts we used to get there.

On this day one customer was pissed of and said to a colleague 'I am an account customer you know'.
To which my colleague replied 'just because you shop on tick it doesn't make you special'.
( Mrs Entity is in hiding., Sat 6 Sep 2008, 19:16, Reply)

..i'll tell you what else they're compatible with...
Spent a while as a christmas temp in currys a couple of years back, i dont know how i got the job as i know nothing about computers and so spent most of my time there reading whatever was written on the side of the box to the customer in an authoratative voice even though they could easily read it for themselves. There were a few moments of monumental stupidity on the part of some customers though that have succeeded in making me feel alot better about my limited tech knowledge.
A customer walked into the store, picked up a packet of screen wipes and turned to me.
"Are these Mac compatable?"
(Meanderthal has neon grey eyes, Sat 6 Sep 2008, 18:47, 2 replies)

My last job..
..was working in a wine shop, with the rather impressive title of "Wine advisor", not that I had any qualifications other than an unhealthy appetite for red wine, and the finer the better.

We also sold the best single malt whisky selection in town, which attracted the weirdest customers - whisky fans can be pretty obsessive.

Every Saturday morning, about 10am, this one guy would come in with a bag bulging with 6 or more rare whiskys he'd acquired - on any given day this bag would have been worth at least 200 queen-heads.

No matter what was happening in the shop he would corner my boss - my most knowledgebale person I've ever met about fine booze without getting stuffy about it - and bring the bottles out one by one, for tasting, and over the course of an hour my boss would get sozzled on fine whisky while listening to the most boring man in the world drone and lecture about whisky in the most mind-numbing way possible.

My boss was being polite. He appreciated tasting what otherwise he would only taste rarely, but not at 10am on the busiest day of the week, and with someone he can't enjoy it with.

By about 11:30 my boss, and sometimes myself too, would be light-headed and merry (I'd sometimes get 2 or 3 shots out of the 8-10 dispensed, as a way of sparing the boss), bimbling and giggling round the shop, laughing at the customers like a couple of little girls.

By about 2 in the afternoon the alcohol would wear off and we'd crash horribly, realising that we had another 5 hours ahead of us - Satuday afternoon/evening being the worst shift going.

Not sure he was really such a bad customer - we got to taste some great whiskys and get temporarily smashed at work - but Saturdays would have gone so much more smoothly without him. Apparently he also had bags of watches and and antiques that he'd then take round other shops and bore other shop workers with, then presumably he'd go home to sleep it off and cry.
(lost, Sat 6 Sep 2008, 18:41, 2 replies)

Helldesk Woes
Toward the end of the last decade I worked on the IT servicedesk for a consulting firm who recently lost a memory stick with a load of prisoner data on it.

They insisted on referring to users as 'customers'. They also referred to the helldesk as 'a high pressure environment' which is companyspeak for 'similar to a sweatshop in wu-han - we own you and we can do what we like with you.'

All of the users, or customers, were under high pressure deadlines to allow for the management teams appalling accounting and basic inability to treat people with the respect their intelligence demands.

Things I remembered in my 6 months working there:

- The abusive user who called me a stupid little shit on the phone.
- The user who demanded I fix his laptop problem because he had a 'more important job than I did'.
- The user who used to write mails to the Chairman whenever we didnt solve problems to his satisfaction, which was always.
- The abuse we used to get when we didnt pick the phone up after 3 rings or less.

This company employed some of the biggest fatheads and morons in suits you have ever seen in one place. They all had delusions of grandeur and self importance, and the CEO was a complete cunt.

I spent 6 months there during which time I had a nervous breakdown and almost quit my career altogether.

I have never worked for anyone quite so appalling since.
(Vic Flange, Sat 6 Sep 2008, 18:26, 2 replies)

Bath, Body and. . . Benzodiazepine?
At one point in my Fascinating Retail Career, I worked at a well-known chain purveyor of bath and body products. We sold nothing else but those things and even the name of the shop hinted at its purpose.

One otherwise uneventful day, the phone rang. I answered.

'Hello, [name of shop], this is Louveciennes, how may I help you?'

The woman on the other end replied, 'Transfer me to your pharmacy.'

Pause. 'Madam, this is [name of shop].'

'Yes, I heard you the first time! Transfer me to your pharmacy! I have to fill my prescription.'

Blink. 'Madam, this is [name of shop]. We sell bath and body products, like shampoo and makeup. We do not have a pharmacy.'

She was quiet for a moment and then, the kicker: 'Well, are you sure??'

Aha, so that's what's hidden behind all those many boxes of bubble bath, face wash and soap in our dinky storeroom! I suggested she consult a directory and hung up.
(louveciennes , Volvospotter, Sat 6 Sep 2008, 18:14, Reply)