Today I have
(a) had to pyhsically crowbar a pc from off a desk that had been welded onto the top of the desk with stale coffee. Old, stale coffee smells like vomit.

(b) had to dismantle a printer as some middle-manager fuck-nugget had installed the toner cartridge upside down. He then attempted to 'fix' this by repeatedly shoving it in some more - really hard.

(c) replaced five mice and keyboards that had been 'screwed' into the back of the ps2 ports, leaving the metal pins bent and in one case - the plastic locator pin sheared off inside the actual ps2 port.

(d) replaced a PSU (and power cable) that some plank had switched to 115V-240 and back again a few times whilst the machines on (we get quite a few of these)

My life would be made an awful lot easier if certain call centre employees would just leave the bloody machines alone. Behind the machines where the 'tubes' and 'wires' live is out of bounds for a reason.
So, if at all in doubt, please don't force, twist, bend, squeeze and generally mangle whilst attempting to 'fix' things yourself. And no, I'll guarantee probably wasn't like that when you got here...

Also, please, please, please stop turning the bloody machines off! (That's you - the "I'm only trying to save energy" eco-types) The machines are meant to be on 24/7. They can't recieve any updates when they're off and that's why it's taking twenty minutes for you to log in next morning as its still pulling down last nights updates.

Even worse - If you turn the machines off it means I have to put down my coffee, get out of my chair to go upstairs to turn the machine on again so I can then go downstairs, run the appropriate diagnostics and actually see what spackhanded fuckup you have managed to make and set about rebuilding it, again.

*Sigh*
(uk_viper stopped lurking on, Mon 8 Sep 2008, 15:08, 5 replies)

Professional Customer
I have the pleasure of spending my company's money. And organising service contracts.

I spend hours every week un-digging the holes my feckless colleagues have gotten us in, try and retain some corporate and personal dignity and leave it in such a way i can actually ask for worthwhile favours when our business needs it. Our Academics spew molten bile on email (pretty brave across t'interweb), leather patched bearded piss-stinking couldn't catch a cold face-to-face. Trouble is they have royally f*cked off everyman and his dog, in writing, so it lives forever.

Equally some suppliers are f*ckers. If i am paying £500,000 for something, i want the rep to ring me back when i leave a message. It is just courtesy, but remaining warm and authorative is not easy when i am screaming inside "YOU ARE THEIVING C*NTS -WHERES MY STUFF YOU LYING B*STARDS". I find this so testing. I am really polite in regular life, shit happens and the staff take the brunt of the managers being twunts. if somethings late or wrong, its fine -do your best, there is usually a compromise.

According to my boss, "shafted us" is not a phrase to describe supplier performance.

It is proven, that the best supply chains talk to each other and share the benefits. Make them feel happy and they make you happy. Make it adversarial, you may get what you want but cause a lot of pain and never get more than expected. When you deal with people, people have the power to make you happy or sad.

Be nice to each other!
( bazza van der trance , ooh baby baby, baby baby. Get up on this., Mon 8 Sep 2008, 14:54, Reply)

On a job with a new company for the first time
in a van going to work , driver guy stops at macdonalds for 'food' and gets back in the van ranting about how the mcmonkey had fucked up his order . seemed he had wanted a particular unique combination of mcshite that meant he should have been charged less than he was because that counts as a macmeal and blah blah blah .
Struck me that he was probably a cock and the mcmonkey probably couldn't give a fuck.
Six months later and I know one bit of that's true . and i haven't met the mcmonkey
Apologies to all monkeys everywhere ,
(happyjoy last changed sig on, Mon 8 Sep 2008, 14:51, Reply)

I could've been a customer from hell
A few weeks ago, after a decent drinking session the night before, myself and a few mates realised that we wouldn't be in the mood to prepare proper food for dinner so decided to take a quick trip to a place where it is already made for you. Since a couple of our group were a little green and wanting to avoid all pubs ,and therefore writing out pub meals, we went to KFC. Arriving at the counter the following conversation took place:

KFC Monkey: Hi welcome to KFC can I take your order?
Me: Yeah, can I have a variety meal with Coke and a cobette please
Monkey: Sorry we're out of corn and chicken, you want anything else?
Me: ...What?.....You have no chicken? What do you have?
Monkey:...erm....gravy

At this point I realised that I could (i) sit there and point out the absurdity of not having chicken in a place that primarily sells the stuff- its in the company name for gods sake!

or

(ii) Go to one of the other fast food places in the Barnsley area.

We wisely chose the second option as we were too hungover to form a decent argument.
(mon bison powered by magnets, Mon 8 Sep 2008, 14:45, 3 replies)

Work and people
I have a genetic problem, similar to Davros' Granddad's father-in-law, in that I can't stand people, with the added affliction of finding working unbearable.

It used to be fine as a thing to do, as there would always be time for sitting on my arse later. However, having had the babybaby there is now always something better to do than try and make money for other people, namely hanging out with the boy, alright he doesn't talk much (at all) and has an attention span of around 3 minutes, but what can you expect of a 6 month old?

Sadly, unless I can invent and introduce a new currency which I have complete control over and the means to produce (i.e. mint), I will have to continue to deal with the scourge of our fair planet as a way to funnel money from my employer to the mortgage lender.

So in some ways everyone is a cuntstomer from hell for engineering a society where we are reliant on other people and their money, stealing precious time from the things that really matter (insert own desires here).

Apologies for maudlin, just back from a 2 week holiday.
(babydad, Mon 8 Sep 2008, 14:38, 1 reply)

I just remembered
My uncle told me a story about when he was getting new carpets fitted in his house, he had a little debacle with them losing the order.

After finding their address, and unit number on the retail estate, he duly rang up Carpet Right one day to check on the status of his order at said carpet outlet. He had been having to wait a fairly long time for them to get in the required design and amount of carpet, and they were already late in letting him know what was happening, so he was a little miffed, but not to the brazen standards of your average angry customer. Yet.

Upon ringing them, the sweet young thing that had the misfortune of wandering past the phone that day was tasked with finding the details of said order and checking its status. Only something was wrong.

After checking, then re-checking, and one more time for good measure, said sales mistress couldn't find that particular order anywhere on records.

Nothing. Not even a phone number that matched or anything.

As you can imagine, my uncle was non too pleased by the prospect that he had been waiting months for something that was never coming, and proceeded to become increasingly irate with the poor sales girl, who apparently handled the situation and herself with the utmost of politeness, all whilst no doubt wishing she had stayed in bed that morning.

She proceeded to spend rest of the day chasing around frantically and trying to find out where on earth the phantom order had got to, and, I imagine, getting generally flustered. All this while my uncle checked back repeatedly throughout the day to find out how his shiny new floor covering was coming, and had they found it yet.

It was only the next day when my uncle realised his one, rather blindingly silly mistake. When looking the phone number up in the Pages of Yellow, he had overlooked the little fact that just below Carpet Right, was Carpet World. Both were on the same trading estate and it was in fact the latter of the two that he had placed his order with. Not the Carpet Right he had rung, and not the poor young lass he sent on a wild goose chase for an order that didn't exist, as well as acting, by his own admission, rather like an angry old sod to the girl.

As soon as he realised his mistake, he went in to her shop and took her some flowers and wine, and she was very chirpy about the whole thing, such was her apparent, rather jolly demeanor, despite having wasted a day running about like a headless chicken.

Poor girl.

And that, my friends, is the story of how my uncle managed to earn the title of customer from hell, when he wasn't even in the right shop....
(Scrumpy does not negotiate with terrorists,, Mon 8 Sep 2008, 14:35, 3 replies)

If you think shop work is bad, try teaching chav kids...
Teaching is horrible, the kids are foul mouthed cretins and the parents should have a license before they are allowed to breed. I really hate the general public and their fucked up spawn. Sorry B3ta folk, I know that this does not include you.

I have just resigned from working in an inner city school, full of rude, arrogant, stinking, revolting psychopaths. I even had one parent phone the school complaining that people "like that" (I am transsexual) are not safe and should not be allowed to work with children.

When I see the state of modern humanity, with their chav violence and nasty ideas, I am glad that Oil is running out and global warming is coming, maybe the bastards will suffer as much as I did teaching their scum children.

I am still bitter and I hate them. Bollocks to the meek inheriting the earth, I hope it is the chavs and the earth is a scorched cinder.

Oh, I am qualified to teach "outdoor and environmental education" to the 14 to 19 age group, in case you were interested.
( Rev. Jayneflakes Buy my book, I need the cash for drugs and hookers, Mon 8 Sep 2008, 14:35, 5 replies)

Another from the car rental days
The frontline desk monkeys in the Terminal hated two groups with a passion that made the Daily Mail's displeasure with illegal immigrant single mother asylum seeking paedophiles look like a minor peeve.

1. Central Reservations.

We'd arrive at sparrowfart, expecting a 'normal' (i.e. manic) day, and the reservations printout was greeted with utter horror as it unrolled scroll-like across the desk at 6 am.

What the bloody hell?

Someone had late-booked about 50 extra rentals. Including automatics, estates, people carriers and two Mercedes. You know, the stuff we need 24 hours to get in.

And had we been given the slightest teeny tiny hint that bunging on 50 extra units with no notice might be a tad of a problem?

Naah.

And the first flights were due in NOW.

The day was spent shouting at operations to "get me as many transporters as exist in the known Galaxy over here now as they've just stuck another dozen bookings on *glances* AAAAARRRRRGGGHHHH make that fifteen *sobs* please give me cars, I'll have your babies", followed by sub-renting (at full daily rate) from the grinning gits at Hertz and Avis who knew exactly what our Central Reservations were like......oh, and breaking the land speed record on the trip to the petrol station to refill the units that the thoughtless bastards had returned on fumes.

The Branch Manager went home in tears, leaving muggins to kiss the feet of the returning punters who brought their cars back tidy and refuelled (they'd be getting the free upgrade from an Escort to an E-Class next time) and subvocally curse the overseas customers who invariably left them resembling a charity shop's skip with at least three parking tickets outstanding, but I digress.

12 or 14 hours into this lovely shift of Doom, last flight for the day lands. We have scraped together every spare rental unit in the known world, and have just survived the day.

Generic Bloke-In-Suit waddles up to the desk, waving Amex Gold (in the days when it meant something) and bellows "I need a car" (fuck me, THAT'S why you're at the car hire desk, I thought you wanted an ice-cream) in full plummy member-of-the-golf-club-and-pretend-I-went-to-Eton tones.

"Do you have a reservation, Sir?" (Oh God, they've done it to me again)

"I can't be bothered with all that, I'm in a hurry, what have you got, I need something decent"

"Sorry Sir, we're fully book..."

"DON'T GIVE ME THAT. DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?"

"Errm, no.."

"WHAT SORT OF CAR HIRE FIRM HAS NO CARS AVAILABLE?"

*Sotto Voce 'A Busy One'*

"Sorry Sir, I physically don't have any cars available, I'm waiting on some that are due back and a transporter but it could be a while. Have you tried one of the other firms?"

(NB I was already a smidge doubtful about giving him a car as he smelt of booze)

"I ALWAYS USE THIS FIRM, MY COMPANY HAS AN ACCOUNT (So why wave the Gold Card, thinks I?) I DEMAND A CAR RIGHT NOW"

"I'm sorry, we have no cars available. You can have the next one that comes back in, but I don't know when..."

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DON'T KNOW. ARE YOU COMPLETELY USELESS? I WANT YOUR NAME"

*Grits teeth*

*Taps name-badge on chest*

"My name is right there Sir, would you like me to write it down for you?"

*Customer goes slightly purpler, as if his head was someone's bellend who was receiving a slightly too enthusiastic hand-job*

"However, I'll ask if Avis have a spare car for you, and it'll be at your corporate rate"

"HGNN...ERRM"

Avis do.

Credit card declined.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN DECLINED?" "WHY CAN'T I PAY USING MY COMPANY ACCOUNT" "Your account is not with Avis, Sir"

The purple-headed one ping pongs back to me.

"I WANT A CAR RIGHT NOW"

"As I said, Sir, you can wait for the next one to come back, or if you're staying locally we can have one delivered tomorrow morning? When I actually have some?"

"THAT'S NOT GOOD ENOUGH.I WANT YOUR NAME"

*taps ID badge with barely restrained insane rage*

"It's still the same, Sir, would you like me to write it down for you again?"

His Purple-ness stomps across to the Airport Info Desk, no doubt to complain to someone who wouldn't give a fuck. And then to the payphones (yes, I'm that old).

And then back to me.

"I'VE BEEN ON TO YOUR HEAD OFFICE"

"That's odd, they closed three hours ago, however do go on..."

*OH SHIT HE'S BEEN ON TO CENTRAL RESERVATIONS*

"Here's my booking reference, NOW GET ME MY FUCKING CAR"

Soo, Mr Purply got a car. One reserved for a customer first thing in the morning, who had booked in advance, like normal people do.

Oh, and he later tried to avoid payment by claiming I had threatened to kick his head in, petrol bomb an orphanage and rape a baby seal among various other offences in an inarticulate letter to head office. However old Mr Purple chops had missed a couple of things. Like the audience of about fifty people, the CCTV camera, and the fully uniformed and heavily armed pair of coppers standing twenty feet away. Who coincidentally pulled him over quarter of a mile down the airport bypass ten minutes later...

So, the two most hated?

1. Central Reservations (or rather the company policy to never refuse a booking, even when ludicrous)

2. The twat on the information desk who would tell dickheads who hadn't booked at the peak of holiday/business rush 'Go and call this number, that company will always give you a car'

As for Mr Shouty? Naah. Having a Heckler & Koch up the snotter when he got shouty with the copper who pulled him over on suspicion of being pissed (having witnessed the above) seemed like a good enough result to me.

And he was only going to the airport Hilton, after all.
(osok Rebel without a clue, Mon 8 Sep 2008, 14:27, Reply)

Never that bad
I used to work in a local shop for local people where you'd expect a bit of trouble. Most of the customers were spot on, it was about the size of a Tesco Metro I guess but on a Scottish island. The only bad thing was that, being at school at the time (through 5th and 6th year), I used to work the last shift of the day - from half 6 until closing at ten. The worst customers were the old alcoholics but that was only because of the stink of piss and rancid booze (it's a smell I recognise to this day). You'd still get the odd arsehole but never anyone consistently shitty.

Fast forward a few years I'm working in a University Library - biggest bunch of cunts you're likely to come across. Students moaning and crying about late fees, staff members, supposed "academics" failing to grasp the most basic workings of the book borrowing process and taking it out on members of staff, people employed by the same institution having no regard for their colleagues. A lot of "special" people who wanted special treatment.

The best, and by that I mean most despicable customer, was an older woman, easily late 40's. She would phone about fines or issues about bringing back books other people had requested, talk about how it played on her nerves, it was unfair, she wasn't well, it was difficult for her to get out of the house with her bad leg etc. etc. etc. but she'd always take the name of the person she dealt with and request them next time she was in. Anyway, one day she comes in towards the end of a summer term, requests me, moans and moans about how difficult her life is, I get a supervisor to dealt with her fines, she has another moan and finally leaves.

Now, as a side job I work in a bar which caters to post grad, mature and foreign students. One night I get in for a shift and she's there - pished as fuck, falling about the place, the stick she uses for her bad leg propped against the table she's sitting at while she dances with a bunch of younger students. She eventually comes to the bar and orders a big round, pays then slurs "Ah ken you frae somewhere don't I". I just said Aye, last time you were in the library I was the one who dealt with you - nice to see your leg's better. Left her change on the bar and walked away.

Never seen the colour drain from someone's face so quickly. She took a seat and left after finishing her drink. Funnily enough she didn't cause too many problems in the library after that.
(cannonfodder fodder for cannons on, Mon 8 Sep 2008, 14:25, 2 replies)

I used to work for a Member of Parliament...
...and it's a cracking job, apart from dealing with the constituents. Yes you, the taxpayers who seem to think that your MP should be at your beck and call 24/7, and be willing and able to move heaven and earth for you because your neighbour's hedge is blocking your sunlight.

No, just no. That's not what the MP is there for, and it's certainly not what muggins here gets paid to deal with (and paid diddly squat because you Daily Mail readers complain bitterly about MP's expenses).

There are priorities. The woman whose daughter is trapped in Beirut during the start of the war in Lebanon, I'll spend half a day on the phone to the Foreign Office for. The pensioner whose credits have gone completely up the spout and is struggling with his money, I'll do my best to fast-track a solution for.

But not for people like this:

Me: "Good morning, office of *****"
Woman: "I'd like to speak to **** please"
Me: "I'm afraid he's not in the office right now, can I help at all?" (true)
Woman: "Well where is he?"
Me: "He's in a meeting, can I..."
Woman: "What meeting? When will he be back? I want to speak to him"
Me: "He's in a committee meeting, then he's going into the Chamber. Look, can I help at all?" (nearly true - he's meeting an ambassador afterwards, I don't know when he'll be back, but damned if I'm telling her that)
Woman: "That's not good enough"
Me: "Look, if you tell me what the issue is I'll see what I can do for you, and get him to call you when he's back in the office"
Woman: "You're just fobbing me off!"
Me: "If he was here, you could speak to him, but he isn't. Can I find out what it's about and..."
Woman: "It's all a big con. All you do is lie to us. I'll never vote for you again..." (I bet she never did in the first place)

This goes back and forth for 5mins or more until she eventually gives up. I get a name out of her, but she won't tell me what it's about and won't give me an address or a phone number - so how am I supposed to get my boss in touch with her? Useless.

You think customers are bad? Try constituents. They take a self-righteousness to a whole different level.
(annexed, Mon 8 Sep 2008, 14:12, 3 replies)

Could i book your cheapest holiday please?
People would phone up and through no fault of their own inbreeding would frequently get the names of popular destination alarming wrong. see if you can guess the real destinations

Grand Canary - my personal fave
Futureventura
Farterventurer
Future Adventure
Terrormolinos
Lanzarotten
Domino Republic
Dominigo Republic
Costa Brave
Costa Bravado

Fuck, this is bring back bad memories....but. i. must. purge them....

OK, what is it with people when they are booking a holiday? WHY do they (about 85%) of them demand to book the cheapest tattiest shite i can find them? So, after hearing this for about the 30th time that day, i ended up turning on this woman, in a professional manner, of course...

"Hi, Thomson holidays, Cancer speaking, how can i help?"

"could i book your cheapest holiday please"

*veins bulge*

"ok, i was wondering though, why does everybody always ask for the cheapest holiday, i mean, you wouldn't walk into an estate agents and ask for their cheapest house, or walk into a restaurant and ask for their cheapest meal, or walk into a car showroom and ask for their cheapest car. Cheapest is NOT always best...yeah?"

"well, yeah, i suppose so"

"well, you work all year, and you get a fortnight off and you want to travel thousands of miles and end up spending those two weeks, with your small children, in the scuzziest and cheapest accomodation i can find"

"well, yeah"

"OK..................when do you want to travel........."

And so on and so forth. I still don't know why they want them so cheap, ALL the time.

Or the cunts who would 'want a wee cheapie, because this is the 5th holiday we have been on this year"

Yeah, my heart is bleeding RUSTY PISH YOU SACK OF FUCKING BUM GRAVY

Or maybe the oddest one, not a customer from hell, but worth a mention, was this woman who called up from the foyer of the hotel she was in, in Benidorm....to book another weeks holiday for the next again year, in the same hotel....Bizarre. i think she must have gotten pumped by some Spanish waiter and was so enamoured she comitted her next years holiday as soon as she could...
(Cancer Joy was short lived, Mon 8 Sep 2008, 13:57, Reply)

Just after xmas was always the time...
..that people would try and get refunds on any old shit they've got laying around, which you saw a lot of working for a big named record chain beginning with "V" for many years.

Most people just wanted to exchange their "Ministry of Sound Annual 2001" for something slightly more palatable and we'd cheerfully let them, providing they weren't taking the piss massively.

One instance always springs to mind for me:

Foolish Customer: "Hello, I got this for xmas and don't really want it, can I have an exchange?"
Me: "Do you have a receipt?"
Foolish Customer: "No, it was a gift".
Me: "Was it bought in one of our many Mega Stores?"
Foolish Customer "Yes."
(Scrutinizes suspiciously old and manky looking CD and checks computer)
Me: " I'm sorry sir, this item has been deleted for 4 years and our chain hasn't sold it in the last 2."
Foolish Customer: "So can I exchange it then?"

Sometimes situations like these would inevitably lead on to an "I know my rights as a consumer" diatribe, and a demand to speak to the manager. "You are." I would gleefully reply, and remain steadfast in my refusals.
(mcnelson, Mon 8 Sep 2008, 13:51, Reply)

rude rude rude
We have in our dept a complete fiveskin* arsehole who is the most petty, OCD, freakazoid weirdo you would ever have the misfortune to sit next to.

We was regaling us with a story a few months ago, about how he ended up having a huge 10 minute shouting session at a young female till attendant and a manager at Borders, almost making the young girl cry.

Would you like to know why?

had the manager torn off his girlfriends jaw, raped and then gutted her with it in front of him? no

Were the till attendant and the manager parading up and down the store covered in blood and excrement with fiveskins parents heads on sticks and wearing their guts for garters? no

Had these two evil Borders staff just unleashed a nuclear holocuast upon western Europe? clearly not.

Oh no, this bloke was ripping shit out of the poor staff because . . . . his Terry Pratchett book was not autographed. Clearly the end of the world is nigh, all shields are down, we are all going to die, this lack of author squiggle is the end of civilisation as we know it!

The worst thing was as he told us this story he was proud, proud of being an unbelievable shit of the highest degree.

Stunning, until I started having a go at him, prick.

I ended up getting a ticking off from the office manager for being mean to him, I swear if the fucker acts like that again and i hear about it im going to beat him to death with his shoes.

grrrrrrrrrrr

*He is one of those people that butts into any office conversation, has done what you were doing only better, has been to places you have gone, has bought a slightly higher quality version of any electrical item you have ever owned etc etc.

So, I have a foreskin, he has to go one better and therefore has a fiveskin.

edit: Oh and apologies Mr Pratchett, but this bloke was such an utter cunt I can no longer buy your books, he has put me off, as every time I see your name on the cover I want to take off my shoe and whack whack whack whack until he stops twitching then whack whack whack just to make sure
(Halfy By light alone, Mon 8 Sep 2008, 13:47, 6 replies)

Reptile Shop
Working where I do I gat quite a few extra days of during the year, and occasionally my brothers boss asks if I’ll do some work for him in his reptile shop. This involves cleaning out cages of snakes, lizards, spiders and other things.

Some of the things that I’ve overheard in the shop make me wonder and if there should be a cull of our stupid population.

The best of the beauties are;

“Do you need a male and a female for them to have babies?” – From a man with his teenage kid!

“What kind of snake is that?” – All the cages have what’s in the cage written on it!

“I would like to buy a snake that I can wear round my neck when I go out.” – FFS!

“So I can keep this tortoise in my back garden then? – Actually no, they need heating!

“I don’t need a vivarium for the monitor lizard, I’m just going to let it run about my house.” – OK so you intend to keep your house at 30^oC all the time?

I sometimes think that people can’t be that stupid, and then my brother will tell me about the idiots he’s had at his work that day and I cry for humanity.
(Herr Doktor Lemminge Is bored, so cheer me up!, Mon 8 Sep 2008, 13:11, 3 replies)

Someone's story below has just reminded me
I was out in Swansea with a mate of mine, on an almighty I-just-broke-up-with-my-girlfriend drinkathon.

I was completely skint, and in a bad way, so he was footing the bill for the entire weekend (Dave, you're a legend).

We were on about the 6th Stella of the evening and he has to start paying by card. This was before chip and pin came into force, so he was obliged to sign for the payment. As he did so, the vacuous bint behind the bar pointed out that he hadn't signed the back of the card and would he like to do so now.

This caused Dave to lunch into a drunken diatribe regarding how ridiculous it would be for him to sign that card so she could check it against the signature he had just signed on the till slip.

He proceeded to drunkenly spill the rest of the contents of his wallet across the bar in an effort to find another card with his signature on it so she could witness that it was in fact the correct one, all the while berating her for her poor practices.

It was a good point though.
( Vipros. clever got me this far, then tricky got me in, Mon 8 Sep 2008, 13:03, 7 replies)

It's your fault because...
Some people just generate annoyance like like a giant shining Branson in the night. A group arrives and a guy buys a drink. Nothing wrong with that, we would think. He hands over a tenner which has to be checked via UV light. And it is.

"Haw, gonnae no treat us like a criminal, eh?" he says. (translation: Your undertakings suggest you suspect me of criminal activity and that simply tickles my goat. In a bad way.)

You're not fucking special, right? It's a bank note. We check all bank notes. We don't like forgeries, it causes us trouble. Therefore we check.

Twenty? Gets checked.
Tenner? Gets checked.
Fiver? Gets checked.
Pound note? ...I'd probably get that framed, actually, I haven't seen one in about four years.

Anyway, manager explains this. Guy is still irritated/stupid/constipated, but his mates convince him to drop it. To this day, he's the only person I know of who's complained about his money being checked. Bloody twuntsicle.

Anyway, I go to do something else and return minutes later to find a wet bar and the same guy complaining to the manager. Apparently he'd stuck his fingers in to retrieve the ice he didn't ask for (or object to) and spilt half his drink on the bar.

He was asking for his drink to be topped up. With just alcohol. (was a vodka mixer IIRC) On the basis that he'd stuck his hand in it. If he'd asked us, our handy little tongs could've got it out in no time. (he'd probably still have asked us to top it up) Manager steadfastly refuses to provide him with more drink on the basis he's a tit.

The debacle eventually ended when, after my manager had gestured towards the drink whilst arguing her case, the guy interrupted her with the words "Monkeys point.". Not sure what he thought he'd gain form this, but he was told to finish up, leave and not return. Got off lightly if you ask me.

Moral? Don't attempt to get refunds or replacements by insulting people who have the right to tell you to piss off and not return. They will often choose to exercise said right.

And if your friend is acting like an utter twat, say something. Don't let them keep doing it just because you know them, it's still wrong and stupid.
( Iki I think my camel is dead., Mon 8 Sep 2008, 13:01, Reply)

Anybody who's ever worked
in a Blockbusters knows that customers are never, ever right. I worked there on and off throughout my student-hood.

Yes, the charges for 3 days of overdue films are your fault, and no you didn't drop it through the door 3 nights ago, because we check it every fucking day.

I understand that it sucks that you have to pay another £10 in late fees, but that is exactly the fucking agreement you signed up for when you signed the contract. Check what you sign for. You wouldn't keep a rental car for an extra week and then act confused when they charge you for it. Unless you're an idiot of course.

Please, please don't complain to me about how you don't like paying the 50 pence increase in rental charges. How much input do you think I actually have in deciding rental fees? I agree that it's completely overpriced and shite, but if you really don't like it, bugger off. The reason I don't go to overpriced pubs and shops is for that exact reason, and it seems to be a relationship that's working well for both of us. Besides, I have about as much sway in Blockbuster's decision making process as the Jews did with the Nazi regime.

Also, why oh why would you steal a fucking DVD case from the shelf, then try and return it, saying that we didn't put a DVD in there...? There is a system in place for that exact scenario. You are advertising your complete and utter failure to grasp simple laws of common sense with your actions... Well, your actions and your chav-suit.

I have actually watched my manager chase somebody out of the shop after they called him a prick for not getting rid of his wife's deserved late fees. That was funny.

Having said that, most of the customers that came through our doors were actually all fine and dandy and who I have no problems with smiling politely at. I'd happily drop a few nights late fee off of the customers who are genuinely polite, but apparently for some people even the effort of feigning courtesy is a genuine challenge. I suppose it's true that you only remember the utter bastards, however few they may be...

I'll stop ranting now...

Length - Slightly adequate.
(Scrumpy does not negotiate with terrorists,, Mon 8 Sep 2008, 12:56, 5 replies)

Car salesman
My ex father in law (deceased) was a used car salesman all the time I knew him. Unfortunately he suffered from a genetic condition that didn’t sit well with his chosen profession.

He absolutely, irrevocably, detested people. Couldn’t stand them. Which was odd, as despite this slight design flaw, he spent most of his time either (a) at work, or (b) in the pub.

Anyway, one day back in the early 90’s he’s working in the showroom when a middle aged woman comes in. He lets her look around for a bit, then decides to go over and ask if he can help. The potential customer replies that she’s looking for a runaround for herself; something small, cheap to run and easy to park. Thinking he has just the thing, he takes her onto the forecourt and points out a Nissan Micra.

“Oh no, that’s no good”, she says, shaking her head.

“Madam, this car meets all of your requirements, it would be perfect for you”.

“No, I couldn’t possibly drive this; it’s dangerous”.

“Madam, this car has been checked and re-checked; given a full service and has a new set of brakes; what gives you the idea that it’s dangerous?”

“It’s red”.

“What?”

“It’s red. I read an article that said that there are more red cars involved in accidents than any other colour. I don’t want a red car, so I’ll be less likely to have an accident”.

“Madam,” he said through slightly gritted teeth, “the reason there are more red cars involved in accidents is because there are more red cars on the roads than any other colour…”
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Mon 8 Sep 2008, 12:28, 3 replies)

Before CHIP & PIN
I would check the signature on the back of the card. Queue idiot customer seeing me doing so, demands his card back before he signs, tells me it's against the law the read private information, and I will see him in court for defamation of character.
Wanker.
(w4I4q1O1 was hard at work on, Mon 8 Sep 2008, 12:25, Reply)

Couple of years ago,
Me and my housemates would always go shopping on Saturday mornings. It was the only time we all had an hour or two to spare, since we didn't have a car we were all required to attend in order to carry our stuff home. Anyway, we'd trundle off to Sainsbury's in town and it soon became apparent that 11am on Saturdays was also when a shouty old man went shopping. Every single time.

He wasn't your ordinary shouty old man though, he had incoherence down to an art. With the requisite shuffle and head-permanently-to-one-side look, he was the perfect example of the ravages of age. He would wander through the store, occasionally putting things in his basket and somewhat more frequently bellowing 'Hueeeeerrrrgghghhh!'.

I never found out why he did this, he might have been in pain or merely deaf and not realise he was doing it. All I know is that I am glad I didn't work there and so didn't have to serve him.

'That's £10.60 please.'
'HerrrUUGGHHHHHargh!'
(Stu Moo winner of five nobble piece prizes, Mon 8 Sep 2008, 11:54, Reply)

guy in a restaurant.
I was eating at a local (very cheap) Singaporean restaurant, when a customer went off at the waiter/owner in front of all the patrons, saying the food wasn't authentic.

The flaw in his argument, from my perspective, was that the owner was an authentic Singaporean-type person, from Asia. Which the customer wasn't.

So if the food wasn't authentic, presumably that was due to the tastes of the customers, rather than the owner being somehow unaware of what food was like where he was from.

Also it was really cheap, and vegan, and local. And just, aren't you embarrassed? Did he not care what anyone thought, or in his mind was everyone cheering him on / admiring his knowledge?

But on the other hand, the customer said 'I've been to Singapore', so I guess he must have been right. Jesus Christ.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Mon 8 Sep 2008, 11:45, 2 replies)

Hmmm.
My customer from hell turned out to be my bloody manager.

Note - This was back in the days when we had manual credit forms to fill in, big green and white sheets, requring all of the customers details on it. We then had to ring all the details through and wait for an answer. Took anything up to an hour in the good 'ole days. None of this online stuff, anyways I digress....

For my first ever 'real' job I worked in an electrical superstore, a reasonably big N.Ireland based company, selling assorted brown and white goods.

I always enjoyed my time in sales, however some of the stories on here have brought it all crashing back, all of the associated customer muppetry and spittle flecked, rabid, complaints were, and obviously still are - a part of the job.

As it turned out, I was reasonably good at sales and was always up in the top two or three sales peeps for our store, however shortly after having our new and shiny manageress installed. Things started going slightly amiss. Large sales for £1500 Tvs and stereo systems were put though on my days off, with all of the associated credit slips being filled out in (as I later found out) my name.

First couple of times it happened I was kinda chuffed, as everything seemed to have been done legitimately and it had all been signed off by the manager. However on the third big absent sale I got a bit suspicious and spoke to another sales guy on the floor, Ian, only to find out that he was havng the same phantom sales happen to him. In fact he'd sold over £2000 pounds worth of stuff when he was on a two week holiday. Alarm bells started to ring.

I spoke to the new manageress, she assured me that everything was perfectly legit and all above board and things for me anyways, quietened down. A few more weeks go by and no phantom sales. We then got a new deputy manager in, transferred from Head office to 'observe' the store.

The situation that developed was not a nice environment to work in, everything was being watched by this deputy, everything was being picked apart and questioned - particularly the credit agreements. Audits were common place as stock had turned up missing, large screen Tv's and such like. The atmsophere was pretty well poisonous.

It was at this time another electrical sales company had just openened it's doors in the town and I was poached by one of their sales guys who had come round under the pretense of buying a tv.
I was offered an interview after work that day. I accepted, and to cut a long story short I was offered the job and I took it. I duly worked my weeks notice.

On my last day, the company director lands down with two official looking sidekicks . Can he have a word, Mr Viper?

Them - Do you know anything about these sales?

Me - No...

Them -Is that your signature on the credit documentation?

Me - Ummm, yes. But I wasn't in that day.

Pause whilst holiday records are pulled.

Slightly worried Me - Should I be getting legal advice at this point?

Them - No we're only checking at this point...

Them - Why are you leaving now?

Me - Because I've been offered a job down at Curry's, on better money.

Them - Can we have your contact details if we need to talk to you again?

Me - Sure, but what for? Am I in trouble for something?

Them - Not at this point, we just checking some loose ends...

We met once more - they called me about a week into my new job to clear up a few things - A few more credit slips were produced with my name on them.

At this point I was genuinely, really worried and spoke to my father, who said not to meet them again without due legal representaion. They then asked to meet me again, at this point I suspected that there might have been some serious fraud involved and alarm bells were ringing.
I declined as they were being very coy with their answers and got downright evasive when I mentioned solicitors, refusing to tell me what I was being questioned for apart from the fact that it was part of an onging investigation.

To cut a long story short. The shiny new manageress and one of the other sales people had set about defrauding the company with a slew of false credit sales, all put through on other peoples sales records using forged signatures.(The joys of carbon copy sales agreements) They then took the 'sold' stock home with them for resale or whatever.

I was one of those victims. So were another three sales people who worked in the store. The goods totalled about about 25-30K, which was quite a lot for the store. The stock involved had been lifted by her their respective husbands after the store had closed. We, as sales droids, had gotten commission on all of the frauded sales and were all therefore suspects.
I found all of this out after, through a few friends I had made during my time there at other branches and head office.

To rub salt in the wounds - about a month after I had started with Currys, I was pulled into my office regarding possible fraud allegations from my previous employer (It seems that the rumor mill had been working quite well) I explained what had happened as best as I could, as I didn't know exactly what was going on at that point (I kept them informed of any information that I recieved as it all came to light) Thankfully at that point they believed me and I managed to keep my job.

No real happy ending I'm afraid. The manageress and her pet sales/fraudster both got the sack. To my knowledge no charges were ever pressed and I was thankfully never contacted by the company again.

However I did see my ex-manageress once since then. She was working behind the counter for X-tra Vision. (A N.Ireland Blockbuster DVD rental place) Also the town branch of that particular Electrical superstore closed shortly afterwards and is now a pet store.

length = bloody epic...
(uk_viper stopped lurking on, Mon 8 Sep 2008, 11:44, Reply)

I've been saving this one
I worked for a number of years for a Vision Express. They are the opticians that will make your glasses in an hour. The job is far from plain sales or being a till monkey. It's actually a skilled job which I was very good at.
Anyways.

One morning I turned up for work to be met at the door by the assistant manager. He looked ashen faced and told me and the other staff member who had arrived at the same time the the manager needed to see us both.
We walked into one of the testing rooms where the manager informed us that one of our staff members had died overnight.
He was on holiday in Thailand base jumping. Climbing a mountain to do a jump he had slipped and fallen to his death.
As you can imagine we were all devastated.
However the store was due to open and we had to get on, albeit with a subdued atmosphere.

By mid-morning the store was quiet and I was sent on my 15 minute break.

When I came back the store was busy and I reported to the desk manager to see who was next to be served. I was sent to see a man who was here to collect his glasses.

'I've been waiting 20 fucking minutes. This is supposed to be a one hour service'
I looked at his receipt which showed that the hour was only just up. Also he couldn't have been waiting 20 minutes as he hadn't been there 15 minutes before.
However I apologised for the wait.
"Well you should get more staff on. I run a business and when I am busy I just get more staff in, it's not fucking complicated."
"For your information, a member of staff died last night" Ok I know he wouldn't have been working anyway but I was proper pissed off.
"I don't fucking care about that".
I just walked away. When his glasses were ready I handed them over and fitted them with him shouting that he was going to write a letter of compliant about the attitude of staff.

What this twunt forgot was that unlike other retail we have your name, address and phone number.
His business? A pub. Plots were hatched to have the entire staff visit the pub and exact some revenge but sadly we didn't ever get round to it.
CUNT
( Mrs Entity is in hiding., Mon 8 Sep 2008, 11:28, Reply)

Being the Customer from Hell
Working in a small multi-chain computer store (we had 3 branches) allowed us to do some quality pranks on the newbies, one of which was the phonecall test. We organized it for a newbie to pickup the phone and the trap was tripped.
"Hi you're through to *** ********, Simon speaking, how can I 'elp?"
Chris from our branch in a deep Welsh accent while shouting a bit "Oih, do ye sell those bloody computer game things?"
"Yes sir.."
"Have you got that there.....Dynamite Heady on that megadrive thing?"
"I'll check now..." Simon runs off, comes back about a minute later "No sir sorry, we haven't got it."
Chris turns it up a notch "You haven't got it? Darren, come in here, DARREN!!! DARREN!!!! Darren, come in....GET YOUR FUCKING PANTS ON BOY, YOU'RE 18 NOW! What game do ye want now boy?" Another guy in our office leans over to the phone and says in the highest pitched voice "Eek the Cat...."
At this point Simon's pissing himself laughing down the phone and says "Chris?"
"CHRIS? WHO THE FUCK IS CHRIS, I WANTED EEK THE FUCKING CAT FOR DARREN BOY!"
"Oh, sorry sir, sorry..."
At that point I think Chris pissed himself laughing and the game was up. We did that sort of thing to all the newbies, kind of an initiation ceremony and a good test of how to deal the real weirdos that are out there. And they are out there :)
( Jeccius Steam Borderlands 2 junkie, Mon 8 Sep 2008, 11:15, Reply)

I worked in a call centre as a temp, with only two minutes training
taking orders over the phone for extortionately priced clothing for older women. One day, the customer happened to be Viscountess Rothmere. The wife of the man that owns the Daily Mail. Need I say any more?
( Bobson I who milks the milkmen?, Mon 8 Sep 2008, 11:14, 3 replies)

innit
Is that derived from the Indianism "isn't it"?
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Mon 8 Sep 2008, 11:13, 2 replies)

Pearoast from pet peeves
I work at an Indian restaurant most nights
so I have lots!

People who think it's funny to order in an Indian accent and take the piss. It's not funny, you look like a twat and do you really think it's a good idea to antagonise the people who are about to prepare your food? WE're too professional to sabotage it, but it's still not a good habit.

People who come in and say "Um, I'll get the one I had last time...It was orange". That's wonderful sir, we serve 20 different curries and 15 of them could be described as orange. I'm happy to reccommend dishes but I'm not a mind reader, I don't know what you want. You do.

People who say "Will I be able to handle the heat?". See above. I'm not a mindreader, I don't know your palate. I take my curry really hot, so saying "Oh, however you take it" is not going to produce the results you want. Just because I'm a white girl doesn't mean I'm as pussy as you are with spices. All you have to say is mild, medium or hot. Nothing complicated about it.

ALSO, people who order a dish and upon seeing it, decide they don't want it and shouldn't have to pay for it. THAT'S NOT MY FAULT. If you ask for a hot chicken vindaloo, I will give you a hot chicken vindaloo and you can bloody well pay for a hot chicken vindaloo. It's not my fault that you don't know your tastes well enough. It's not my fault that you order it too hot for your own good, or suddenly remember you're vegetarian, and I'm certainly not going to give you a discount for being so fucking dumb.

ALLERGIES: People with severe allergies, I understand that it's be hard to eat out. That's fine by me. Tell me about it and I'll be happy help you out, I'll get a dish made without coriander, or cream or whatever. I don't have a problem with that. But do not get angry at me if you only tell me about your nut allergy as I'm putting your korma onto the table. Kormas are made with almonds, and if you had actually read the menu you would know that. No, I can't just 'get rid of all the nuts in it', I can't unmake it. It doesn't work like that, and if you're gonna choke from eating those nuts, don't bloody well order them.

See that table? It has two chairs on it. Therefore it is a two person table. Our tables are large. You don't need a table for six when there's only two of you - it's losing us money when you sit down there and refuse to move. And don't sit down at a table for two then 'sneak' over onto a large one.... You look like a twat and I WILL make you move back.

As someone said before, people who ask for unnecessary things, i.e fresh orange juice. What do you think, that we serve 2 types of orange juice? One that's mouldy and gross and one that's fresh?

Brits who think they're better qualified on curry than Indians. Mainly I love the brits, but saying "oi, I'm from England I know that butter chicken doesn't have cashews in it!!" just makes you look like a twat. Butter chicken does have cashews in it, and newsflash, curry did not originate in Britain. Don't argue with the experts.

Sleazy old men. I'm 17, young enough to be your granddaughter, keep your hands off me. Do you honestly think that a fat, drunk, sweaty, leering old man is going to turn me on? Do you actually think that by grabbing my arse and winking at me, that you'll get a date? Your wife is sitting there looking ashamed of you, and the rest of the restaurant thinks you look like a lecherous old cunt. Stick to your own age.

Yes, I realise that I am a white girl. Yes I know you think that for some reason that is hilarious. But I've heard "So, you're not Indian! HAHAHAHAHA!" way too many times now.
Please. Give up.

Don't get in my way. This is a special message to the drunken idiots who thought it would be a great idea to STRIP OFF and start doing press ups in the middle of the restaurant while I was trying to get past to take care of an epileptic customer in the middle of a seizure. GET OUT OF MY WAY. I know that naked sweaty press ups are very important to you, but that woman's life is more important. I know this is a hard concept to grasp, so why don't you just start with STAYING CLOTHED AND IN YOUR SEAT.

If you can't pronounce something, that's ok - not many people can. But don't pretend, and don't argue with me about it unless you speak a fair amount of Hindi or Punjabi like I do. Because I WILL shoot you down.

Parents: It is not my job to restrain your child. You chose to have children. With that choice comes certain sacrifices - sometime you will have to remove your child from a restaurant. Don't just look at me helplessly as your child attacks other patrons or tries to kick my legs. I WILL ask you to leave if you can't control your child - this is a perfectly reasonable request so please don't look at me like I've just slit the throat of your precious little crotchfruit (although after 3 hours of him I would love to)

Yes pikeys, I will ID you. If you come into my restaurant in your bloody school uniform then I'm not exactly keen to serve you 5 generic shitty alcopops.

If you need to be served quickly, we'll do our best. But don't come in when we have a full restaurant with a table of 60 and one of 30 and say "oh, we have to leave in half an hour, so we'll get *INSERT HUGELY COMPLICATED ORDER HERE*, oh and we'd like at least 15 minutes between the starters and the mains". I don't really like you anyway and assuming that you're the centre of my universe isn't the best way to do things.

Don't whistle at me, grab my apron, grab my tablet (we use tablets to process orders)or try to come behind the bar. PERSONAL SPACE PEOPLE! Yes I'm only 17, but I'm not willing to be pushed around just because you're wearing a suit. Also suits, don't give me your business card and say "Call me when you're in Christchurch". Ew. You're three times my age and I don't want THAT sort of work experience, you sleaze.

I am human. I can only do so many things at once. If I'm running past your table with a tray full of drinks and another with food on it, then it is safe for you to presume that I don't actually have time to get another 16 beers for the table. If you insist on asking me to "just nip down and get another round of JD & coke for the table before you go do those orders, love" then I will smile, nod, and 'forget' about you for the next 2 hours. If I'm busy, be patient; I'm trying, and I'm coming soon. Just WAIT.

If you ring up to order a takeaway, please have a general idea of what you want. I do not have time to read the entire menu to you on a busy saturday night while you say "um....well... I've just got to talk to Sal, she wants something beginning with P? I think it's orange? Actually luv, just read those ones off to me again?". GO AWAY.

Also, I'm not an idiot. I'm studying to be an engineer - this is just to pay bills. Don't treat me like I'm unintelligent, you patronising bitch.

On the other hand, if you are polite to me, you don't act like an arrogant twat and you treat me with respect, I will go out of my way to make your meal a good one. Drinks will disappear from your bill, we'll give you extra naan bread for no charge, you'll be served in record time. It's not hard to be decent and the rewards will be noticeable. Good customers really are appreciated...It's just a shame that I see so few of them.
(Holy Gabrielle is Holy, Mon 8 Sep 2008, 11:09, 24 replies)

The Stig Vs the Argosnauts.
Davros' Granddad's story of the "Tape-deck and Argos" reminded me of the "Argos tart from hell" story.

Now for the record, I shop online. It's cheaper, (pound for pound) more efficient and the staff are very helpful and courteous. But due to (what I can only assume was) temporary insanity/knock on the head/I'd been sniffing the chemicals in my laboratory too much/delete as applicable, I was forced to buy an iPod from Argos. I took it home and found out that the headphones wouldn't work. Just busted completely. So the next day I took it back to Argos (same branch, they weren't going to catch me out on that one!) with receipt in hand to the "Exchanges and Refund" desk. I walked up and politely explained to the 40-something that the headphones were broken and may I have a replacement or refund? "40-something" in the smuggest of smug tone of voice replies:

"I'm sorry. We can't take them back due to our hygene rule."

I firmly replied "No, the head phones are broken. Faulty. They don't work. I would like a pair that work or a refund."

Amazingly, she came back even smugger than before "I'm sorry, but if you took the time to read our catalogue small print, it does say that we do not return headphones under hygene rules."

Incredulously, I turned to other members of the queue and other customers nearby, to make sure that:

A) They were hearing what I was hearing.
B) I wasn't speaking Swahilli.
and
C) The statutory rights legislation wasn't a figment of my imagination.

"Look," I almost pleaded "please could I have a refund?" An exchange was out of the question.

She sighs and says "I'll have to call the manager over." Manager comes and dishes out a refund. Exasperated, I turn to leave, when "40-something" says "We don't normally do this, so you're very lucky!".

I should have turned away. I should have left it. I had better things to do with my time, surely.........?

No, I didn't.....

"Look," I said through gritted teeth. It took every ounce of restraint in my body not to separate her head from her shoulders, "Under current law, you are OBLIGED to issue me with a refund or an exchange! I am aware of your hygene rules, but it is null and void when the item in question is faulty! You should know this!!!"

40-something looked a little shocked, but I'm sure she got over it.

Anyway, the upshot of this story was two-fold:

1. I bought it online for cheaper and promised never to steer aways from online shops.

and.

2. Whilst, I was seething, I developed an idea. All shops' counters, should be equipped with a re-inforced steel plate on the front. That way, whenever the customer(s) are getting extremely irrated by the shop jockey, they use the steel plate as a sort of, "anger kick plate" to vent frustation*. So the day wasn't a complete loss!


* = I realise that I've put this idea into the public domain and therefore, can't patent it. But, that also means no-one else can as it is "prior art". But that doesn't bother me. If more shops had this, the customers would be happy to vent their anger onto these plates. Though, having said that, the shops could just spend the money training their staff better.....
(The Stig, Mon 8 Sep 2008, 11:08, 1 reply)

Oh and another
Same computer store, another freaky customer. Always came into the store wearing this light brown parker and rather weirdly following small kids about the store. He also carried with him a tescos carrier bag with some stuff in it and never really bought anything other than one or two 3DO games (I told you he was weird).
One day he bought a game and left the store, leaving his carrier bag on the floor beside the counter. I noticed this and brought the bag into the back office. I glance inside and find his hidden treasure; 1 small box of sandwiches, 1 apple and a pair of brown Y-Fronts. Christ.
He come back in 1/2 an hour later looking for his bag. We passed it to him while all of us were lined up smirking mentally and he left the store, never to return.
( Jeccius Steam Borderlands 2 junkie, Mon 8 Sep 2008, 10:51, 5 replies)