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Today was a hell of a day at the Store. As I was clocking in for my evening grocery floor shift, we were already at what I like to call "Critical Mass"; all the registers are open, there are long lines at all of them, there are no carts in the cartroom, and the parking lot is almost completely full. I.e.; the only reason we aren't busier is because it isn't physically possible for us to accommodate any more business. No sooner have I clocked in and grabbed my radio and my set of supervisor keys from the office than I get flagged down by a cashier who's having trouble with a customer.
The customer is holding a package of pork steaks from the meat department. It costs $9.03. However, a bit of meat juice has gotten onto the label and smudged the 9 so that it almost kinda sorta looks like a zero. Quoth the SC: "This is mislabeled. I want it for three cents and you HAVE to give it to me for this price."
The cojones on this woman, and the aggression she came at me with right away, knocked my socks off. I could have pointed out that the weight and the price per pound on the label were completely legible and it was thus obvious that the package wasn't 3 cents. I could have pointed out that when the barcode is scanned it doesn't come up at 3 cents. I could have showed her that the last three digits of the barcode are identical to the package price and, surprise surprise, it's not three cents. I could have said that the fact that the label is smudged doesn't make it "mislabeled" any more than if you just tore the 9 off the label with your fingers. I could've said that since the outside of the package was contaminated with meat juice that we couldn't sell it to her at any price.
I didn't do any of that, because it was clear to me that this woman was being irrational and thought she'd found some kind of cheat code that would beat the system, so I just went into strict deadpan mode.
Me: (cutting her off mid-sentence) I'm not selling that to you for three cents.
SC:
What do you mean?
Me: I'm not selling that to you for three cents.
SC: By law you HAVE to. (Oh, if I only had a nickel for every law our customers have invented.)
Me: That's not a law.
SC: I will walk out of this store and I will never shop here again if I don't get this for this price! (Oh, no, please don't go, your three cents is the only thing between us and financial ruin.)
Me: If that's what you want to do, then you have a nice day.
SC:
YOU ARE VERY RUDE! I'M GOING TO TALK TO YOUR GENERAL MANAGER!
Me: (challenge accepted) I'll call for him right now. (on my radio) GM, could you come to checkstand X? I have a customer I need your assistance with.
Within about 30 seconds, GM arrives.
GM: What's up, Smapti?
Me: This customer wants us to...
SC: YOU STAY OUT OF THIS! YOU ARE VERY RUDE! (repeats her initial demand to the GM)
GM: Go ahead and get started on your work. I'll handle this.
I stepped away at that time and let him deal with her, so I don't know exactly what was said, but in the long run, she didn't get to buy the steaks for 3 cents. I caught up to the GM later and asked him what he wants me to do if something like that happens again, and he responded;
"You did exactly what you were supposed to do. What a crazy
."
The rest of the day was a roller coaster ride of long lines, empty shelves, giant milk spills that took forever to clean up, live product unloads, and our cardboard compactor being unusable for hours because the garbage-man locked his keys in his truck, but at least I got my quotient of crazy out of the way right at the beginning.
The customer is holding a package of pork steaks from the meat department. It costs $9.03. However, a bit of meat juice has gotten onto the label and smudged the 9 so that it almost kinda sorta looks like a zero. Quoth the SC: "This is mislabeled. I want it for three cents and you HAVE to give it to me for this price."
The cojones on this woman, and the aggression she came at me with right away, knocked my socks off. I could have pointed out that the weight and the price per pound on the label were completely legible and it was thus obvious that the package wasn't 3 cents. I could have pointed out that when the barcode is scanned it doesn't come up at 3 cents. I could have showed her that the last three digits of the barcode are identical to the package price and, surprise surprise, it's not three cents. I could have said that the fact that the label is smudged doesn't make it "mislabeled" any more than if you just tore the 9 off the label with your fingers. I could've said that since the outside of the package was contaminated with meat juice that we couldn't sell it to her at any price.
I didn't do any of that, because it was clear to me that this woman was being irrational and thought she'd found some kind of cheat code that would beat the system, so I just went into strict deadpan mode.
Me: (cutting her off mid-sentence) I'm not selling that to you for three cents.
SC:
What do you mean?Me: I'm not selling that to you for three cents.
SC: By law you HAVE to. (Oh, if I only had a nickel for every law our customers have invented.)
Me: That's not a law.
SC: I will walk out of this store and I will never shop here again if I don't get this for this price! (Oh, no, please don't go, your three cents is the only thing between us and financial ruin.)
Me: If that's what you want to do, then you have a nice day.
SC:
YOU ARE VERY RUDE! I'M GOING TO TALK TO YOUR GENERAL MANAGER!Me: (challenge accepted) I'll call for him right now. (on my radio) GM, could you come to checkstand X? I have a customer I need your assistance with.
Within about 30 seconds, GM arrives.
GM: What's up, Smapti?
Me: This customer wants us to...
SC: YOU STAY OUT OF THIS! YOU ARE VERY RUDE! (repeats her initial demand to the GM)
GM: Go ahead and get started on your work. I'll handle this.
I stepped away at that time and let him deal with her, so I don't know exactly what was said, but in the long run, she didn't get to buy the steaks for 3 cents. I caught up to the GM later and asked him what he wants me to do if something like that happens again, and he responded;
"You did exactly what you were supposed to do. What a crazy
."The rest of the day was a roller coaster ride of long lines, empty shelves, giant milk spills that took forever to clean up, live product unloads, and our cardboard compactor being unusable for hours because the garbage-man locked his keys in his truck, but at least I got my quotient of crazy out of the way right at the beginning.
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