Customers from Hell

What follows is not a dramatized and exaggerated story. It is told as closely as possible to what truly occurred, no matter how it makes either party look. It is to a large extent a tirade that I just need to get off of my chest. If you skip the following story (I actually advise it), the moral is don't be a jerk.

Working retail has its shares of ups and downs. I have become used to disgruntled, unhappy, and just rude people. I usually can shake off what they dish out by realizing that they are just rude idiots. I couldn't shake off the following interaction that left me crying in a store full of customers. Talk about awkward - what do you say to the cashier who is crying when you ask for a couple of copies. It was amazing how many people were gracious and how many just wouldn't make eye contact.

A customer walked in the store with his packages. I greeted him and told him that I hadn't seen him in the store lately. He shared that he hadn't been in for a couple of months, because he recently had hip replacement (the guy is college age). I asked him if his packages were going to Canada (as he had shipped multiple packages there in the past). He replied no and commented that I had a good memory. The interaction was going well.

I began by asking if the packages were going to a business or a residence. He replied a home business. I then said, OK, I will plug in the address and see what UPS determines the address to be. The customer then asked what the best way to ship two packages to one location would be. I looked at the packages and asked if they could be combined into the box he currently had. He replied no. I said then we could sell you a box that is bigger. I measured the box, and as I said the measurements he told me that the box would have to be bigger than the current box. I told him that the box would be $8.25. He said, "And that would be the shipping charge?". I replied that that was just the boxing charge. He made a comment to the extent that that was ridiculous. He then asked about the shipping charge. I replied it would be $36 (I can't remember the exact numbers). He then complained that that was different than what the internet said it would be. We then began to talk about what shipping estimate form he used (as Ebay is legendary for being way off), and he replied that he used the UPS website. I explained to him that it could be because he didn't measure properly or didn't have the correct weight.

At some point in the conversation, another customer had walked in the store with something to be packaged and sent. I had her begin filling out her paperwork while I continued to work with the current customer. The customer asked how much his other package would cost. After measuring the box, I told him it would be $12. He said that wasn't the price he was quoted on the internet. At this point he asked if we had the internet and if we could check the UPS rates. I told him we did and plugged in all of the numbers. The internet price came up as two dollars less. He asked if I was going to give him that price. I said I was unable to give him that price because I couldn't give him any other price then what was in our system.

He then asked why I put in the estimate that the package was 4 pounds when it was 3.85. I explained to him that UPS always rounds up to the next pound. He told me that what I was doing was illegal because I wasn't giving him the advertised price. The women in the store pipes up that it is illegal. I explain to the customer that UPS and the UPS Store are not the same company, and that although, the prices ought to be the same, I could do nothing about the prices that were advertised by another company. He was not happy with that explanation. The women in the store says that she is Bonnie's (my boss) friend and that my boss is nice (my inference - you (employee who won't give this price) then are a *itch). He then asks about the postal rate. She follows up his comment with, "Yes, you should give him that price." I told the man that it was $15 to go through USPS. She then follows that quickly up with, "If I was you, I would be calling Bonnie." She might have included a young lady in her address.

I explained to them that Bonnie was on vacation but I would give her a call. I explain to Bonnie that a customer was in the store and was complaining about the discrepancy between the prices. She explained to me that she could not charge anything other than the computer (what I had already explained to the customer). I asked her if she would explain this to him. I thanked Bonnie when I got the phone back and figured the problem was handled. He looked at me and said, "I just don't understand why the prices are different."


A little taken aback because Bonnie had just explained, I said, "As I was saying before ..." only to be interrupted by the lady in the store saying I was being sarcastic. I told her I was not being sarcastic. (Brief side point: In all honesty, I wasn't being sarcastic. For those who know me, I know I can be sarcastic, but I know its time and place in retail (pretty much never). I may have been condescending while having to explain the same thing for the third time, but that is not the same as sarcasm.)

So, after a few more minutes and Bonnie calling to ask if everything is okay (I couldn't answer since he was still there), the end result is the customer didn't want to spend that much, so he left. After looking up the other customer's number to ensure that we had the address in the computer, I headed towards the packaging area, she told me that she wanted change once I got a chance and she still had a card to put in the package. I began wrapping everything in bubble wrap, since everything (with the exception of two bags of candy) was breakable, and then measured for the correct box size once I had added on for peanuts. The box was big, I brought the box to the front and she commented in a skeptical voice, "That it was an awfully big box." I explained to her that since everything was breakable, I had to bubble wrap and peanut everything. She snottily replied, "Candy is not breakable, and I still need change."

Taking it in stride, I said, "You are correct, the candy wasn't breakable, so I put it in the candy packages in the candy dish to save on space." I then gave her two tens, so she could put those in the card for her granddaughters (My justification: if you had told me earlier that we were waiting for the change to put in the card, I would have done it right away, I can't read your mind, and my job is not to give you change because you don't have two tens for your granddaughters). Bonnie calls again, I tell her I am still unable to talk.

I then gave her the price for the shipping and boxing. "That costs more than the present."

I replied, "Unfortunately, that often ends up being the case." I saved the estimate for the shipping charges and began to ring up her charges. She interrupts me and asks that we make sure the address is correct. I go into the other part of the computer system and re-look up the address and ensure her that it is the correct address (Note: why wouldn't you have me check last time I looked up the address for you???)

She looks at me and tells me that I need to be more patient. I explained to her that I was sorry, that no one had ever complained about me being impatient with them. She continues to tell me that she wouldn't tell me this, except there are no other customers in the store (I guess calling me out on doing something illegal and sarcastic is okay). I continue to ring her up as she continues to talk; at my wit's end of her berating my service and character, I begin to cry (if you are reading this, you know how often people see me cry). As I hand back the change, she says, "I didn't mean to make you cry."

In a matter of what voice I reply, "Well, it is too late now."

"There you go again with that sharp tongue." Another customer enters the store. Now, (probably feeling guilty that I am crying now with an additional customer in the store), she takes my left wrist with her right hand, and uses her left hand to pat my left hand and starts saying things to try and comfort me. She is acting all grandmotherly by patting my hand, but at the same time, she is holding on to me and basically telling me (with her body language), "You will listen to me."

Another customer comes in. The customer from hell leaves. While handling the next customer, yet another customer comes in. Bonnie calls again, she asks if I am okay, I say no, and she hears the distress in my voice. So there are three people in the store and the thing I find so amazing is how different personalities react to seeing someone cry. As alluded to before, one women wouldn't even look me in the face, another one asks if I was okay, the other just looks bewildered, like what do you do when the cashier is crying. Eventually everyone is out of the store, and I take a minute to compose myself. I look behind me and there is a mound of packages around me that I need to finish (when we get busy in the store, we estimate the shipping charges on every package and then go back and actually ship the packages as soon as there is time).

After a few minutes of no one in the store, the back door opens and Bob walks in the store. I sounded so bad on the phone, Bonnie called her husband to come for moral support. I briefly explain the situation, and he begins to tape packages and do anything he can to help me out. The flow of customers continues to come, he just looks at me amazed and asks, "Where are all these people coming from?"

After a little while, Bob sees that I am all caught up and looks at me, tells me to keep on doing a good job (since the customer from hell left, one customer had come in gushed to Bob about how helpful I was), and he heads out. I leave twenty minutes after we close, I head to coffee with my sister and Dave. I am so keyed up, I can't even talk about how stressful and frustrating the situation was until two hours into coffee, and then only in wide, sweeping generalizations.

I go home only to remain with my stomach churning for the next 4 and 1/2 hours keeping me up till 2:30, which makes me even more annoyed since I know I have to open the store tomorrow morning

If you read this whole thing, Wow! Thanks for listening to my tirade and sorry for the poor writing. You should really get back to work now.

Shoot Me Now

I have a nasty little habit – I get sucked in by love stories. I am such a sap. As unrealistic as it is, I love the idea of happily ever after. Yesterday morning I started a romance (Thank God I haven’t descended into the abyss as far as Danielle Steele; and, to my credit, I didn’t realize it was a romance when I got it), and I continued it when I returned home after work. I kept on reading, despite the clichés, despite the fact that I shouldn’t be reading that late into the night, and despite the fact that it was horribly edited.

The last despite is the one that gets me the most. I know my blogs are probably plagued with typographical and grammatical errors (please feel free, actually, I ask, no implore you to point them out to me), but my blogs aren’t in hardcover. I know that doesn’t excuse my poor grammar, spelling and punctuation; but, I also wasn’t paid, and I definitely can say that I have never been published. I just can’t imagine missing that many things in a published book that people are actually purchasing (I got mine from the library, making it even more tragic). Plus, I am not talking about ending sentences with a preposition or other grammatical rules that are being phased out in our cultural idiocy and desire for ease. I am talking about screwing up tenses, forgetting words, not acknowledging that something is in question form, and just not using commas. Every time I found a mistake, it just grated on my nerves, but somehow, I was drawn into the vortex of wanting to know how the love story ended. How ridiculous is that? (I contemplated not putting a question mark at the end of the last sentence in hopes that someone might publish me.) I knew how it would end, because romances always follow the same path – girl and boy meet, girl and boy hurdle obstacles with the greatest of ease, and girl and boy end up together. And like a cow being herded, this one followed the pack.

During college I swore off romantic comedies for a while. They were just too depressing in the sense that they elevated my expectations while revealing that there was no knight in shining armor – at least not for me in Upland, Indiana. Els and I were just reflecting on Sense and Sensibility (typical love story), and how we love how Elinor has no hope of being with Edward, but in the end, they get together. Why do I love the fact that she suffers? I remember when I first watched S&S someone mentioned that most girls fit the type of one of the three daughters. I was horrified that my sister said I was an Elinor. Who would ever want to be the one who suffers silently, the one who has no hope, the one who only cares for making others happy, the one who has to befriend the usurper of her happiness, and the one who makes it possible for someone else’s dream to come true while her dream is squashed? I don’t think that it was so much the fact that it was true that I was an Elinor that bothered me, but the ramifications of what that meant.

Is there a difference between truth and its ramifications?

Fall is Here!!

I know I commented about loving summer, but fall in Wisconsin is pretty great, too.

For instance, jumping out of bed into your slippers and running to close all of the windows before your body freezes in your 56 degree house. Slithering back under the covers with a book after the previous sub-Arctic run. Standing in the sunshine for just a few extra seconds to warm up. The anticipation of fall colors. Finally getting to football season and subs. Laughing so hard you cry from stories about football read on Bob and Brian. Knowing when you look outside that the sun shining means nothing regarding temperature. A rainbow of autumnal colors and foliage reports (Tom and Katy, according to Wisconsin foliage reports, I think late September to early October will be best for Fall camping). Knowing that everything green is in transition. Take a hike today so that in a few weeks you really appreciated the changing temperature and colors.

1st grade memories

My favorite memory by far was finding the silver egg in the wooden tool box during our Easter egg hunt. I also loved looking into the cookie jar to see if today was a snack day because our teacher decided to make us treats. Of course, there was the tooth chart where you got to put your name every time you lost a tooth. (I think my greatest academic failure was never getting a chance to put my name on the chart - my teeth were late bloomers.) Hunkering down for story time on bean bags also tops the list. Plus, there was the store you created to learn about economics. Pancakes and syrup in the fall as Pilgrims and Indians. And finally, going out into the hallway to read with a friend's mom in the cardboard enclosed reading area. But all of those memories were created and facilitated by my teacher, Mrs. Graham.

I was working today when my 1st grade teacher walked into the store. I have two comments regarding this encounter. First, I am old. When I asked her if she taught at Swallow, she replied that she retired back in '92 (fifteen years ago!). I was not in her last class, actually, I graduated from Swallow as an 8th grader the next year. Secondly, I was looking at her as a woman who is slightly taller than I, as you all know then, she is short. The thing is, as a six year old, I thought she was a giant.

No longer invincible

I am not going to say much, mainly because I don't feel like I could write anything to really capture my feelings, but it has been ten years. I can't believe how much has occurred since I was sobbing in my dorm room ten years ago, yet it seems like I can remember the pain clearly and time has sped by so fast. It was a moment that changed my thinking, we were no longer invincible, we were no longer living in a golden age. It was a moment that changed friendships and memories and lives.

Dreamweaver

Last night I had the weirdest dream. I hardly ever remember my dreams, so when I do, I take note.

I was back in high school and was a student director of a show. I was in turmoil because one of my students had been arrested for some reason right before the big show and another of the girls was having a hard time in life and was crying. Typical high school, right?

Well, the curtain rises and the police bring my one student back. It wasn't because he was wrongfully accused, but because apparently there is a clause that allows minors to leave jail to sing in musical performances. In an weird, God works all things for good kind of way (this is what I as a director was thinking), the juvenile delinquent now takes the main singing role of the boy who just got stage fright. But the j.d. can do this because he has no fears since he will be in jail and won't have the scorn of his friends. So the curtain rises, and I tell the crying girl as she and I are lounging on a couch, if this is too much for her, to just tell me. She assures me she will be okay as we listen to the opening act which happens to be in Spanish. Now my Spanish is a little rusty, but my key lines of translation are, "I am going to spend all of my money at the mall," and "I love Keanu Reeves."

That's all.

Two down, one to go

I finished Season Two of 24 yesterday. No complaints.

Gotta Love those Swedes

Mecca, the Promised Land, whatever you call it, I was there Friday.

The blue and yellow just beckon to me and invite me in.

Although I am neither pregnant, a foreigner nor a college student, I still love IKEA.

Where else can you and a friend eat well for $2.50?
Where else can you get a vegetable/parmesan peeler that is life changing?
(I got one in China as a memento of my trip, but I had to get another because I always use mine! What if it would break? How could I survive?)
Where else can you go that reminds you of so many happy memories?

As soon as I got home, I began to assemble my purchases. I don’t know why, but there is something so empowering and fulfilling about putting together a piece of furniture. I know that probably makes me completely unrealistic and a nerd, but it gives me a sense of accomplishment. I remember when Jen and I put together her whole library; every time I went in I thought about how I was part of it.