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I used to run a li'l computer shop in southeast Indiana - you know, repairing, sellling, upgrading personal computers, and so forth, but the shop offered other officey-type services, too. UPS and FedEx packing and shipping and stuff like that.
One of the services we offered was making copies. Not just the usual onesies and twosies, though. We had a big machine that did a sort of offset printing, very fast, ideal for fliers and handbills and such. And for large orders it actually worked out to be very reasonable.
Saturday afternoon, twenty minutes till closing, the final MINUTES of my typical 6-day workweek. The shop had been deadly silent all day - the phone had not rung, only two or three customers all day, I don't think I even sold $30 worth of goods or services. I was looking forward to my day off, and more importantly, to the evening I had planned with my fiancee.
The damned phone just HAD to ring, didn't it?
I pick it up, go through the 'thank you for calling…" spiel.
SC: DO YOU GUYS MAKE COPIES!?
ME: Yes, yes, we do. How many copies did you need to make?
SC: A THOUSAND!
ME: (grimacing) I think I can help you, what exactly…..?.
SC: HOW MUCH IS IT?
ME: That depends. What is it you're copying?
**Okay, you have to ask specific questions - that bulk copier thing isn't ideal for everything. Turns out he needed flyers, which is why I explained that machine
above.
SC: OKAY, HOW MUCH?
ME A thousand copies, single-color, on white paper, $60 and tax.
SC: WHAT?! THAT'S TOO MUCH, KINKO'S ONLY CHARGES TEN CENTS A PAGE!!
**Yeah, notice the flaw in his logic there? It was now only fifteen minutes to closing, and I really, REALLY didn't want to deal with this clown.
ME: Well, I guess you've made your decision, then.
SC: CAN'T YOU DO IT ANY CHEAPER?
ME: Well, if you want to supply your own paper, I can knock off ten bucks.
SC: SO, WHAT, FIFTY BUCKS?
ME Yes, exactly. Plus tax.
SC: THAT'S STILL TOO MUCH!
ME: Well, I'm sorry, sir, but that's the price.
SC: FINE, I'LL BE THERE IN AN HOUR.
ME: Actually, the shop is closing in fifteen minutes.
SC: OH, NO! DON'T CLOSE, I NEED THESE BY TOMORROW!!
** WTF? You've been planning an event for at least two weeks and you're just NOW getting the flyers made?
ME: Well, how soon can you be here?
SC: I'LL BE THERE IN TWENTY MINUTES!
ME: (inwardly groaning, it would be almost another hour before I could leave) Okay, I'll wait.
** Did he show up on time? No, it was nearly an hour after the shop closed before he graced me with his presence.
** So, I run his job - one thousand copies, customer-supplied paper, single color. It was now a good ninety minutes after closing. I bundle the fliers up in plastic to protect them.
ME: Okay, that'll be $53. (6 percent tax).
SC: WHAT?! YOU EXPECT ME TO PAY!? I BROUGHT MY OWN PAPER!
ME: Which was printed up using MY machine, MY supplies, and MY time. I told you this on the phone.
SC: WELL, I'M NOT GOING TO PAY IF I HAD TO SUPPLY MY OWN PAPER.
ME: That's fine, but the fliers are going to stay.
SC: WELL, WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO WITH THEM?
ME: I'm going to throw them away.
SC: WELL, IF YOU'RE GOING TO JUST THROW THEM AWAY, GIVE THEM TO ME!
ME: No. No, I don't think so.
SC: YOU CAN'T KEEP THAT PAPER, IT'S MY PROPERTY! I HAVE THE RECEIPT AND EVERYTHING!
ME: And that doesn't mean a hill of beans to me. Either pony up $53 or leave empty-handed.
SC: THIS IS OUTRAGEOUS! I'M GOING TO CALL YOUR BOSS. I'LL HAVE YOUR JOB!
ME: Okay, asshole. This is MY shop. As in, I'M the one in charge here. I've gone above and beyond to help you, and now you want me to just GIVE these to you? Not happening. Now either hand over $53 or start walking.
SC: FINE! I'LL NEVER COME HERE AGAIN! (and he storms out, leaving the flyers, and his original, behind).
He tears off out of the parking lot in a big display of spinning tires and smoke, and I go about the business of closing the shop, which takes about ten or fifteen minutes. I happened to glance up and notice, however, that he's BAAAAA-aaaack. He's sitting in his truck, watching the shop, but now his truck is much further away than before.
Oh, yeah, I see what he's up to. Clever. But now it's personal. I make a big show of getting trash together and taking it outside. But the bundles of fliers remain IN the shop, on my desk.
As I re-enter the shop, I notice that the truck is now gone again. Guess where he'd gone?. A quick peek out the back door confirmed it - he was dumpster-diving, looking for his fliers. I locked up the shop, threw the fliers in the trunk of my car, and drove around the back of the little strip mall the shop was located in. He's still there, covered in various dumpster residue, and madder than hell that he can't find the fliers.
He sees me and runs up to me in a huff.
SC: WHERE ARE THOSE FLYERS?
ME: In my trunk. You want them, it's going to cost you $80.
SC: WHAT? IT WAS $53 BEFORE!
ME: And I've gotten tired of dealing with your and your bullshit. You want them, it's $80, otherwise I'll take them home with me and use them for scratch paper.
SC: YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!! I NEED THESE TOMORROW!!
ME: I understand perfectly. And it's $80 if you want them..
After sputtering and beating his gums a few minutes more, he finally throws the money at me. I hand him the bundles of fliers and he's just gotta get in his last digs.
SC: THIS IS BULLSHIT! I'LL NEVER COME HERE AGAIN!
ME: You got THAT right. Because if I ever see you here again, I'll have you arrested for trespassing.
And that was the end of it. The evening's plans, though delayed, were a bit more elaborate than I'd originally planned, what with another $80 to spend. It ain't often I come out on top dealing with asshole customers, but when I do, it's a REALLY good feeling.
One of the services we offered was making copies. Not just the usual onesies and twosies, though. We had a big machine that did a sort of offset printing, very fast, ideal for fliers and handbills and such. And for large orders it actually worked out to be very reasonable.
Saturday afternoon, twenty minutes till closing, the final MINUTES of my typical 6-day workweek. The shop had been deadly silent all day - the phone had not rung, only two or three customers all day, I don't think I even sold $30 worth of goods or services. I was looking forward to my day off, and more importantly, to the evening I had planned with my fiancee.
The damned phone just HAD to ring, didn't it?
I pick it up, go through the 'thank you for calling…" spiel.
SC: DO YOU GUYS MAKE COPIES!?
ME: Yes, yes, we do. How many copies did you need to make?
SC: A THOUSAND!
ME: (grimacing) I think I can help you, what exactly…..?.
SC: HOW MUCH IS IT?
ME: That depends. What is it you're copying?
**Okay, you have to ask specific questions - that bulk copier thing isn't ideal for everything. Turns out he needed flyers, which is why I explained that machine
above.
SC: OKAY, HOW MUCH?
ME A thousand copies, single-color, on white paper, $60 and tax.
SC: WHAT?! THAT'S TOO MUCH, KINKO'S ONLY CHARGES TEN CENTS A PAGE!!
**Yeah, notice the flaw in his logic there? It was now only fifteen minutes to closing, and I really, REALLY didn't want to deal with this clown.
ME: Well, I guess you've made your decision, then.
SC: CAN'T YOU DO IT ANY CHEAPER?
ME: Well, if you want to supply your own paper, I can knock off ten bucks.
SC: SO, WHAT, FIFTY BUCKS?
ME Yes, exactly. Plus tax.
SC: THAT'S STILL TOO MUCH!
ME: Well, I'm sorry, sir, but that's the price.
SC: FINE, I'LL BE THERE IN AN HOUR.
ME: Actually, the shop is closing in fifteen minutes.
SC: OH, NO! DON'T CLOSE, I NEED THESE BY TOMORROW!!
** WTF? You've been planning an event for at least two weeks and you're just NOW getting the flyers made?
ME: Well, how soon can you be here?
SC: I'LL BE THERE IN TWENTY MINUTES!
ME: (inwardly groaning, it would be almost another hour before I could leave) Okay, I'll wait.
** Did he show up on time? No, it was nearly an hour after the shop closed before he graced me with his presence.
** So, I run his job - one thousand copies, customer-supplied paper, single color. It was now a good ninety minutes after closing. I bundle the fliers up in plastic to protect them.
ME: Okay, that'll be $53. (6 percent tax).
SC: WHAT?! YOU EXPECT ME TO PAY!? I BROUGHT MY OWN PAPER!
ME: Which was printed up using MY machine, MY supplies, and MY time. I told you this on the phone.
SC: WELL, I'M NOT GOING TO PAY IF I HAD TO SUPPLY MY OWN PAPER.
ME: That's fine, but the fliers are going to stay.
SC: WELL, WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO WITH THEM?
ME: I'm going to throw them away.
SC: WELL, IF YOU'RE GOING TO JUST THROW THEM AWAY, GIVE THEM TO ME!
ME: No. No, I don't think so.
SC: YOU CAN'T KEEP THAT PAPER, IT'S MY PROPERTY! I HAVE THE RECEIPT AND EVERYTHING!
ME: And that doesn't mean a hill of beans to me. Either pony up $53 or leave empty-handed.
SC: THIS IS OUTRAGEOUS! I'M GOING TO CALL YOUR BOSS. I'LL HAVE YOUR JOB!
ME: Okay, asshole. This is MY shop. As in, I'M the one in charge here. I've gone above and beyond to help you, and now you want me to just GIVE these to you? Not happening. Now either hand over $53 or start walking.
SC: FINE! I'LL NEVER COME HERE AGAIN! (and he storms out, leaving the flyers, and his original, behind).
He tears off out of the parking lot in a big display of spinning tires and smoke, and I go about the business of closing the shop, which takes about ten or fifteen minutes. I happened to glance up and notice, however, that he's BAAAAA-aaaack. He's sitting in his truck, watching the shop, but now his truck is much further away than before.
Oh, yeah, I see what he's up to. Clever. But now it's personal. I make a big show of getting trash together and taking it outside. But the bundles of fliers remain IN the shop, on my desk.
As I re-enter the shop, I notice that the truck is now gone again. Guess where he'd gone?. A quick peek out the back door confirmed it - he was dumpster-diving, looking for his fliers. I locked up the shop, threw the fliers in the trunk of my car, and drove around the back of the little strip mall the shop was located in. He's still there, covered in various dumpster residue, and madder than hell that he can't find the fliers.
He sees me and runs up to me in a huff.
SC: WHERE ARE THOSE FLYERS?
ME: In my trunk. You want them, it's going to cost you $80.
SC: WHAT? IT WAS $53 BEFORE!
ME: And I've gotten tired of dealing with your and your bullshit. You want them, it's $80, otherwise I'll take them home with me and use them for scratch paper.
SC: YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!! I NEED THESE TOMORROW!!
ME: I understand perfectly. And it's $80 if you want them..
After sputtering and beating his gums a few minutes more, he finally throws the money at me. I hand him the bundles of fliers and he's just gotta get in his last digs.
SC: THIS IS BULLSHIT! I'LL NEVER COME HERE AGAIN!
ME: You got THAT right. Because if I ever see you here again, I'll have you arrested for trespassing.
And that was the end of it. The evening's plans, though delayed, were a bit more elaborate than I'd originally planned, what with another $80 to spend. It ain't often I come out on top dealing with asshole customers, but when I do, it's a REALLY good feeling.
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