The Chemical Reaction of Mixing Water, Vinegar and a Rubber Bag
Ordinarily, I do not believe in making fun of people. Pffffffft, guffaw!!!! Yeah, right! And so, we come to the events of yesterday. I am a nice person when I am working. Let me just get that out there right now. I mean, I am REALLY nice. I am charming and sweet and funny. And I keep rude comments to myself. Which is why, I am going to let this all out here, where the people I'm about to make fun of will never read it. And if they DO happen to read it... Good! Maybe they will fucking learn something other than how to piss me off quickly.
So yesterday, I was busy being my sweet, charming self, when a couple comes to my store. They received a gift, they told me, a wedding gift SIX MONTHS AGO. And now they want to return it because for some strange reason, the six month old gift no longer works. Chances are Mr. Douche McHosin (names are changed to protect the idiotic) probably sat in his own feces while flinging said gift against the wall in an attempt to fix it. Who knows? But I said none of this and instead smiled sweetly and informed them of our two week return policy. That said, I told them that I'd get the manager, because she'd probably tell me that it was alright to return it.
They don't have a receipt, they told me, because it was a gift. Um, yeah, okay. This was about the time my bullshit meter started going off the chart, but I did not call their bluff and instead proceeded to page the manager. The manager came after a few minutes, she being busy with another customer. This didn't sit well with Mr. and Mrs. Douche McHosin. The manager is only one person, folks. She isn't superwoman... close, but not quite. She did come, though, only to tell me that while it was against company policy, she would go ahead and let me return it for them. This should have made them happy, right?
So I proceeded to scan the barcode, only for the computer to tell me that no such sku number exists in our system. *bullshit alert! bullshit alert!* I then went ahead and manually typed in the sku number, but still, there was no such sku number in our system. I looked carefully at the sku tag. IT WASN'T OUR TAG! I called the manager over again to repeat the process, while subtley eyeing the sku tag. She took the hint.
"Sir, our computer doesn't recognize this sku. And now that I look at the product.. we don't even sell this. That isn't our tag, either," she told them.
"Is it possible that they bought it somewhere else?" I asked politely.
"Oh yeah, like our friends just lied to us about where they bought it!!!!!" Mr. Douche Mchosin screamed.
"I'm not saying the lied, just maybe they made a mistake," I replied.
"Fuck this! Let's go!" Mr. Douche yanked the product off the counter, slamming it into wall in the process. He then stomped out the doors.
His wife, on the other hand, was not about to back down, which only made his exit all the more ridiculous, because after stomping out, he had to turn around and wait. *DOUCHE MCHOSIN, YOU GOT THE HOSE AND YOU GOT THE DOUCHEBAG, DOUCHE MCHOSIN YOU SMELL LIKE VINEGAR!* That's what his theme song would be if he were ever to become a superhero. What a dork, but I digress, as I have yet to get to his female counterpart.
For some strange reason, I thought that maybe Mrs. Douche might have a little more sense than her trogolodytic husband. Calmly, the manager and I both explained to her that we WANTED to help her, but we cannot return something into our system without the sku number. (I can't even get into the register unless I put a sku number in! I'm not fucking magic!) She sniffed her nose at both of us, telling us that we were being ridiculous and why would she pay for something she can't use. Well, actually, I thought to myself, you didn't pay for it, remember? You got it as a gift... Your story is starting to unravel, Hosey. Eventually, she stomps out the door, as well.
I then turned to the next customer, who as it turned out, also needed the manager's assistance. And he too, had to wait, because while I was assisting him, the manager had gotten side-tracked with yet another customer. I apologized profusely, but after having witnessed the Douches, he smiled and said he was more than happy to wait, that he would never give me a hard time. God Bless that man. I mean that from the bottom of my heart. Bless him and all his own.
So yesterday, I was busy being my sweet, charming self, when a couple comes to my store. They received a gift, they told me, a wedding gift SIX MONTHS AGO. And now they want to return it because for some strange reason, the six month old gift no longer works. Chances are Mr. Douche McHosin (names are changed to protect the idiotic) probably sat in his own feces while flinging said gift against the wall in an attempt to fix it. Who knows? But I said none of this and instead smiled sweetly and informed them of our two week return policy. That said, I told them that I'd get the manager, because she'd probably tell me that it was alright to return it.
They don't have a receipt, they told me, because it was a gift. Um, yeah, okay. This was about the time my bullshit meter started going off the chart, but I did not call their bluff and instead proceeded to page the manager. The manager came after a few minutes, she being busy with another customer. This didn't sit well with Mr. and Mrs. Douche McHosin. The manager is only one person, folks. She isn't superwoman... close, but not quite. She did come, though, only to tell me that while it was against company policy, she would go ahead and let me return it for them. This should have made them happy, right?
So I proceeded to scan the barcode, only for the computer to tell me that no such sku number exists in our system. *bullshit alert! bullshit alert!* I then went ahead and manually typed in the sku number, but still, there was no such sku number in our system. I looked carefully at the sku tag. IT WASN'T OUR TAG! I called the manager over again to repeat the process, while subtley eyeing the sku tag. She took the hint.
"Sir, our computer doesn't recognize this sku. And now that I look at the product.. we don't even sell this. That isn't our tag, either," she told them.
"Is it possible that they bought it somewhere else?" I asked politely.
"Oh yeah, like our friends just lied to us about where they bought it!!!!!" Mr. Douche Mchosin screamed.
"I'm not saying the lied, just maybe they made a mistake," I replied.
"Fuck this! Let's go!" Mr. Douche yanked the product off the counter, slamming it into wall in the process. He then stomped out the doors.
His wife, on the other hand, was not about to back down, which only made his exit all the more ridiculous, because after stomping out, he had to turn around and wait. *DOUCHE MCHOSIN, YOU GOT THE HOSE AND YOU GOT THE DOUCHEBAG, DOUCHE MCHOSIN YOU SMELL LIKE VINEGAR!* That's what his theme song would be if he were ever to become a superhero. What a dork, but I digress, as I have yet to get to his female counterpart.
For some strange reason, I thought that maybe Mrs. Douche might have a little more sense than her trogolodytic husband. Calmly, the manager and I both explained to her that we WANTED to help her, but we cannot return something into our system without the sku number. (I can't even get into the register unless I put a sku number in! I'm not fucking magic!) She sniffed her nose at both of us, telling us that we were being ridiculous and why would she pay for something she can't use. Well, actually, I thought to myself, you didn't pay for it, remember? You got it as a gift... Your story is starting to unravel, Hosey. Eventually, she stomps out the door, as well.
I then turned to the next customer, who as it turned out, also needed the manager's assistance. And he too, had to wait, because while I was assisting him, the manager had gotten side-tracked with yet another customer. I apologized profusely, but after having witnessed the Douches, he smiled and said he was more than happy to wait, that he would never give me a hard time. God Bless that man. I mean that from the bottom of my heart. Bless him and all his own.
posted by Ari at 2:07 PM
4 Comments:
OMG you have to go read my entry from last night and see the last definition of "I'm Sorry". You'll love it!
Chris
My Blog
ha ha ha ha. I totally relate. I work in a real estate office--Most of the agents are like little babies that have tantrums. But then again, I do know how you feel about the Douce McHosin's couple. Seriously, for every two of them, there are 5 really sweet customers who will make your day :]
♥
You will never run out of things to write about with your job.
Some people are just so rude, they don't even have a clue! Hope your day was full of happier customers to make up for the McHosins.
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