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Big sale going on at the fabric store and the place is busy. I’m at the cutting counter. I look up, see a line, and call for backup.
Not two seconds after, I hear a quivery voice say, “Aren’t you going to call someone else?”
I reply, “I just did, ma’am,” and return to the customer I’m serving.
A few minutes go by, I call again, and the speaker, a middle-aged woman with a tremulous voice that suggests she’s going to burst into tears at any moment, says we need more help. No, really? Coworker A tells me over the headset that she’ll be there shortly, and I acknowledge. I go through the line, silently hoping that A will get there soon as I really don’t want to deal with the Drama Queen, who has about twenty bolts of fabric and more people in line behind her. I look around for A and see her helping someone in the sewing machines.
Guess who has to deal with the Drama Queen?
She hands me her first bolt, says she needs a yard and a half. I punch it into the handheld and go to scan it, and she starts unrolling the fabric! “Ma’am, I can do that, please stop.” She looks like I'd just slapped her.
I scan it, measure it, and am about to cut it when I see she’s holding it down on her side. “Ma’am, please let go, I’ve got it here.” I’m very polite about it, but we have a method, we’re trained to unroll and measure fabric a specific way and usually when the customer tries to “help”, they almost always make things worse, tugging or twisting the fabric into a crooked cut or catching it on something else. Of course, you explain this to the Drama Queen, and she takes it as a personal insult.
She’s got a mix of various quilting fabrics, calicos and solids. The calicos (specific brand of cotton fabric with patterns) are on sale, as is the solid broadcloth, but other solids are not. She starts arguing prices with me.
DQ: But some of these solids were in the calicos! Aren’t they on sale?
ME: No ma’am, sometimes things get put back in the wrong area, you have to go by what’s written on the label.
DQ: (hands me the next bolt) Isn’t this a solid?
ME: (looks at the fabric, it definitely has a pattern and the label says calico) No ma’am, this is a calico, you can see the pattern here.
On and on it goes, with her hemming and hawing over each one, wondering if it’s a solid or a calico, how much to get and fussing over the edges. The transaction drags on for nearly half an hour. Coworker A finishes the last of the other customers and disappears; a minute later another customer shows up. Drama Queen is fussing over yet another bolt, unable to figure out that the pink fabric with the sparkly pattern and the calico label is indeed a calico. Other customer gives up in disgust and puts his fabric back.
More customers show up, and I have to call A for backup again. Finally, the Drama Queen’s order is finished. A stack of cut pieces is sitting on the counter. “Can I pick them up now?!” she says in a voice that suggests that I ordered her not to touch them upon pain of death.
ME: Well, yes, of course.
DQ: I was just trying to help, but you didn’t want me to touch that fabric! Other workers are more than happy to have me help!
I doubt that very strongly; we’re all trained to lockdown the fabric and not have customers hold it down. Plus, she was moving the bolt while I was trying to scan it! How is that helping?! I print off her cutting slip and hand it to her, she goes and hangs around the cutting counter, minutely examining every remnant in the remnant bin like they were the Dead Sea Scrolls.
I was supposed to have gone to the register half an hour ago, but couldn’t, and now it’s time for my break. After break, I go to the register and apologize to Coworker B. Coworker B is an easygoing, sweet-natured, always smiling lady.
ME: I’m sorry I didn’t come up earlier, I had a customer that took a long time.
B: Oh, I know, I just rung her up and grrr! (makes choking motion with her hands)
ME: You too, huh?
B: Every time she comes in here she pulls that stuff!
Apparently, the Drama Queen is one of the repeat offenders. How I managed to miss her before this, I don’t know, but my run of luck came to an end tonight. I know it doesn’t look like that big of a deal, but the woman’s general attitude, like everything you did suggested that you’d just tortured her dog, and her feckless manner, trembling voice and insistance on going over everything with a fine-toothed comb and dragging it out as long as possible were enough to set your teeth on edge. And while I wouldn’t wish her on anyone else, I am rather glad that it’s not just me that got irritated with her, she rubs everyone wrong.
Not two seconds after, I hear a quivery voice say, “Aren’t you going to call someone else?”
I reply, “I just did, ma’am,” and return to the customer I’m serving.A few minutes go by, I call again, and the speaker, a middle-aged woman with a tremulous voice that suggests she’s going to burst into tears at any moment, says we need more help. No, really? Coworker A tells me over the headset that she’ll be there shortly, and I acknowledge. I go through the line, silently hoping that A will get there soon as I really don’t want to deal with the Drama Queen, who has about twenty bolts of fabric and more people in line behind her. I look around for A and see her helping someone in the sewing machines.
Guess who has to deal with the Drama Queen?
She hands me her first bolt, says she needs a yard and a half. I punch it into the handheld and go to scan it, and she starts unrolling the fabric! “Ma’am, I can do that, please stop.” She looks like I'd just slapped her.
I scan it, measure it, and am about to cut it when I see she’s holding it down on her side. “Ma’am, please let go, I’ve got it here.” I’m very polite about it, but we have a method, we’re trained to unroll and measure fabric a specific way and usually when the customer tries to “help”, they almost always make things worse, tugging or twisting the fabric into a crooked cut or catching it on something else. Of course, you explain this to the Drama Queen, and she takes it as a personal insult.
She’s got a mix of various quilting fabrics, calicos and solids. The calicos (specific brand of cotton fabric with patterns) are on sale, as is the solid broadcloth, but other solids are not. She starts arguing prices with me.
DQ: But some of these solids were in the calicos! Aren’t they on sale?
ME: No ma’am, sometimes things get put back in the wrong area, you have to go by what’s written on the label.
DQ: (hands me the next bolt) Isn’t this a solid?
ME: (looks at the fabric, it definitely has a pattern and the label says calico) No ma’am, this is a calico, you can see the pattern here.
On and on it goes, with her hemming and hawing over each one, wondering if it’s a solid or a calico, how much to get and fussing over the edges. The transaction drags on for nearly half an hour. Coworker A finishes the last of the other customers and disappears; a minute later another customer shows up. Drama Queen is fussing over yet another bolt, unable to figure out that the pink fabric with the sparkly pattern and the calico label is indeed a calico. Other customer gives up in disgust and puts his fabric back.
More customers show up, and I have to call A for backup again. Finally, the Drama Queen’s order is finished. A stack of cut pieces is sitting on the counter. “Can I pick them up now?!” she says in a voice that suggests that I ordered her not to touch them upon pain of death.
ME:
Well, yes, of course.DQ: I was just trying to help, but you didn’t want me to touch that fabric! Other workers are more than happy to have me help!
I doubt that very strongly; we’re all trained to lockdown the fabric and not have customers hold it down. Plus, she was moving the bolt while I was trying to scan it! How is that helping?! I print off her cutting slip and hand it to her, she goes and hangs around the cutting counter, minutely examining every remnant in the remnant bin like they were the Dead Sea Scrolls.
I was supposed to have gone to the register half an hour ago, but couldn’t, and now it’s time for my break. After break, I go to the register and apologize to Coworker B. Coworker B is an easygoing, sweet-natured, always smiling lady.
ME: I’m sorry I didn’t come up earlier, I had a customer that took a long time.
B: Oh, I know, I just rung her up and grrr! (makes choking motion with her hands)
ME: You too, huh?
B: Every time she comes in here she pulls that stuff!
Apparently, the Drama Queen is one of the repeat offenders. How I managed to miss her before this, I don’t know, but my run of luck came to an end tonight. I know it doesn’t look like that big of a deal, but the woman’s general attitude, like everything you did suggested that you’d just tortured her dog, and her feckless manner, trembling voice and insistance on going over everything with a fine-toothed comb and dragging it out as long as possible were enough to set your teeth on edge. And while I wouldn’t wish her on anyone else, I am rather glad that it’s not just me that got irritated with her, she rubs everyone wrong.
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