Date: Fall 2003
Time: Saturday evening
Place: Large Department Store in a Large Urban Mall
I was working the blue jean counter on the first floor of the store, only maybe 30 or 40 feet from the side entrance. A teenage/pre-teen kid comes up to my register with two giant shopping bags in tow, the biggest bags our store makes, and they are bulging, and he's straining to carry the bags that are practically dragging behind him.
He says he wants to return some stuff. Well, that's what we're here for. Well, we'd rather sell stuff, but we're also here to process returns.
He starts throwing all the various items onto the counter, and they all have their tags with the little "proof of purchase" bar code we put on them at the time of purchase, so we could take them for return without a receipt.
It's a LOT of stuff, from around the store. Blue jeans, pants, ties, dress shirts, sneakers, high heels, lingerie, pantyhose, dresses and skirts, pajamas, tee shirts, socks, underwear. . .it was essentially an entire families wardrobe, and it was all scanning as valid returns as they all still had all the tags and proof of purchase.
Since who sells every item is tracked with those bar codes, and we were all on a quota system, these returns would count against somebodies quotas and they were going to be in deep trouble.
Well, eventually this giant pile of clothing was finished tallying out, and it came to almost $3000 worth of clothes.
Now, before I finished, I had to ask a scripted question to the young customer:
"Do you want the return in the original tender?"
His eyes lit up like Christmas Morning. "Tender?!? Yeah! I want Tender!"
Okay, "original tender" it is. I push the button for that, and the register makes that loud grinding noise it makes while it prints out a receipt as I tell him that $2950.33 (or so) was returned to the American Express card that all this stuff was purchased on.
He goes from giddy to whiny brat in 0.5 seconds flat. "But I want CASH!! Give me CASH!!!" He is got a mopey look on his face and actually stomping the floor as he says it, starting on a temper tantrum more fit for a toddler. He keeps repeating that he wants that almost $3k in cold hard cash right now for the returns.
Well, besides the fact that I don't have even close to $3k in the register, so I'd have to send him upstairs to the office for that, even if he was going to get a cash return. The bigger problems were that you can't do a cash return for an item purchased on a credit card, and the biggest problem was that the return had been completed and the items were store property again.
I explain these points to the young man, who gets a sheepish look on his face and nervously asks for all the clothes back. I remind him that he has returned the clothes, but if he wants we will sell it all back to him for the ~$3k sum.
He gets a look of shock and horror on his face and makes a run for the exit, dashing out the side entrance of the store and into the parking lot.
I wonder what his mom did a few weeks later when she saw a $3k credit on her American Express card.
Time: Saturday evening
Place: Large Department Store in a Large Urban Mall
I was working the blue jean counter on the first floor of the store, only maybe 30 or 40 feet from the side entrance. A teenage/pre-teen kid comes up to my register with two giant shopping bags in tow, the biggest bags our store makes, and they are bulging, and he's straining to carry the bags that are practically dragging behind him.
He says he wants to return some stuff. Well, that's what we're here for. Well, we'd rather sell stuff, but we're also here to process returns.
He starts throwing all the various items onto the counter, and they all have their tags with the little "proof of purchase" bar code we put on them at the time of purchase, so we could take them for return without a receipt.
It's a LOT of stuff, from around the store. Blue jeans, pants, ties, dress shirts, sneakers, high heels, lingerie, pantyhose, dresses and skirts, pajamas, tee shirts, socks, underwear. . .it was essentially an entire families wardrobe, and it was all scanning as valid returns as they all still had all the tags and proof of purchase.
Since who sells every item is tracked with those bar codes, and we were all on a quota system, these returns would count against somebodies quotas and they were going to be in deep trouble.
Well, eventually this giant pile of clothing was finished tallying out, and it came to almost $3000 worth of clothes.
Now, before I finished, I had to ask a scripted question to the young customer:
"Do you want the return in the original tender?"
His eyes lit up like Christmas Morning. "Tender?!? Yeah! I want Tender!"
Okay, "original tender" it is. I push the button for that, and the register makes that loud grinding noise it makes while it prints out a receipt as I tell him that $2950.33 (or so) was returned to the American Express card that all this stuff was purchased on.
He goes from giddy to whiny brat in 0.5 seconds flat. "But I want CASH!! Give me CASH!!!" He is got a mopey look on his face and actually stomping the floor as he says it, starting on a temper tantrum more fit for a toddler. He keeps repeating that he wants that almost $3k in cold hard cash right now for the returns.
Well, besides the fact that I don't have even close to $3k in the register, so I'd have to send him upstairs to the office for that, even if he was going to get a cash return. The bigger problems were that you can't do a cash return for an item purchased on a credit card, and the biggest problem was that the return had been completed and the items were store property again.
I explain these points to the young man, who gets a sheepish look on his face and nervously asks for all the clothes back. I remind him that he has returned the clothes, but if he wants we will sell it all back to him for the ~$3k sum.
He gets a look of shock and horror on his face and makes a run for the exit, dashing out the side entrance of the store and into the parking lot.
I wonder what his mom did a few weeks later when she saw a $3k credit on her American Express card.
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