Some time ago I worked at the Big Red Bullseye mart.
#1
SC wants three baby bottles. She can only find one, so she brings it to me and asks me to find two more. I whip out my scanning gun and the suck begins.
Me: I'm sorry ma'am, but my scanning gun is telling me that this is the last one left.
SC: Well, can't you go check?
Me: If the main computer says we don't have any in stock, then we don't have any in stock.
SC: I want you to go check!! There might be some in the back room that the computer doesn't know about!!
Okay, I don't think customers realize this, but the stock room is roughly the same size as the sales floor where people shop, and is stocked from floor to ceiling with shelves of pallets of plastic-wrapped cardboard boxes. I'm not seriously about to get out a moving vehicle, get out a box-cutter, and start checking boxes. I'd be there until next year.
Me: Certainly ma'am. I'd be happy to look. *So I wander off to the stock room, and get a quick sip of coffee. I return a little more pleasant* I'm sorry ma'am, I looked high and low, but I could not find any more of these bottles.
SC: Oh well, at least you checked. You never know WHAT'S back there until you look, do you?
#2
I'm working in women's athletic clothes, just folding clothes and putting them back on hangers, when this red-faced angry mustached short man wanders up to me.
RFAMSM: Do you have short athletic pants?
Me: You mean like capris?
RFAMSM: WHAT ARE CAPRIS?
Me: *reaches over to a rack and shows him a pair of terry capris*
RFAMSM: Yes! Those are the pants! They are for my daughter! You wait here, and I will bring her to see them! Don't you move!
When he said "here", he pointed to the floor like I was I dog or something. I'm not being paid to stand about and drool, so I shrugged and went back to work. RFAMSM comes back and can't find me, so he starts to whistle. Like you would whistle for a dog. I am not a dog, so I ignored him.
RFAMSM: *finally seeing me* I was calling for you!
Me: Weird, all I heard was someone whistling. But what can I help you with?
RFAMSM: My daughter! I have brought her for the short pants!
I look up and see that not only has he brought over his daughter, but he brought over the whole g*ddamn family. And they're all just as short as he is. I hand him the capris, and they go to the fitting rooms. They come back a few minutes later.
RFAMSM: These short pants are no good! They look like long pants on my daughter!
Me: I'm sorry to hear that.
RFAMSM: Don't be sorry! Do something about it!
Me: Well, I can recommend women's atheltic shorts, or children's athletic capris.
RFAMSM: Ok.
I go back to what I was doing.
RFAMSM: Well?
Me: What can I help you with?
RFAMSM: Aren't you going to go get the shorts and children's pants?
Me: Sir, there are so many to see here, that I couldn't possibly carry them all over to you. You'd be here all night waiting on me. There's a ton of different colors, and sizes, and I don't know what kinds you like. You'll have to look with your daughter to decide what you want. The athletic shorts are here *waving to the table behind him* and the children's athletic capris are in the children's section by the underwear. Can I help you with anything else?
RFAMSM: *His face even redder with rage* You are incompetent!
Me: *ignoring him completely* Can I help you with anything else?
RFAMSM: No! Go away!
So I went on break.
#3
It's my first day working at the Big Red Bullseye. I haven't even been there three hours at this point. I'm wearing a name tag that says 'New Teammember' instead of my actual name. This woman wanders up and comments on my name tag.
SC: Oh, New Teammember. You must be new.
Me: *great observation, Sherlock* Yep, it's my first day. But how can I help you, ma'am?
SC: Well, I'm looking for tissues that are individually wrapped. Not like the travel sizes, but a pack where each tissue is wrapped individually.
Me: I'd be happy to help you find that, ma'am. Since it's my first day, I'm going to ask another team member. It'll only take a moment.
So I whip out my walkie-talkie, right in front of her, and ask if anyone knew about individually-wrapped tissues. I explain it exactly the same way she did. A CW comes online and says that nope, we don't have 'em.
Me: *even though I knew she could hear the walkie-talkie as well as I did, I repeated the message for her anyway* I'm sorry ma'am, but my co-worker says that we don't have any in stock. Can I help you find something similar?
SC: No, that's okay, I'll just get the other things on my list.
So, no trouble, she seems pretty reasonable. But would I be writing about this on CS if this was the end?
20 minutes later, SC returns to me with a terrifying look in her eyes, a look that was a mix of anger, triumph, and vengeance.
SC: I found the tissues you said you didn't have! They were on Aisle 32B!! You should remember that for next time instead of telling people you don't have them!!
Me: I'm sorry about the misinformation, ma'am. I was just repeating to you what my co-worker said.
SC: Well, now you know that you actually do sell them!! Remember that for next time so people won't have to search for them on their own!!
And she wandered away in a whirlwind of self-satisfaction and ignorance. She made me want to barf. Honestly, it was my FIRST DAY, she knew that, and I only repeated what someone else (who'd been there longer) had told me. Maybe she should have shoved the tissues in CW's face, if she needed so much reassurance that she had a better 'tissue radar' than everyone else.
Sheesh, I wanted to put in more, but the suck is too long already. Maybe more later.
#1
SC wants three baby bottles. She can only find one, so she brings it to me and asks me to find two more. I whip out my scanning gun and the suck begins.
Me: I'm sorry ma'am, but my scanning gun is telling me that this is the last one left.
SC: Well, can't you go check?
Me: If the main computer says we don't have any in stock, then we don't have any in stock.
SC: I want you to go check!! There might be some in the back room that the computer doesn't know about!!
Okay, I don't think customers realize this, but the stock room is roughly the same size as the sales floor where people shop, and is stocked from floor to ceiling with shelves of pallets of plastic-wrapped cardboard boxes. I'm not seriously about to get out a moving vehicle, get out a box-cutter, and start checking boxes. I'd be there until next year.
Me: Certainly ma'am. I'd be happy to look. *So I wander off to the stock room, and get a quick sip of coffee. I return a little more pleasant* I'm sorry ma'am, I looked high and low, but I could not find any more of these bottles.
SC: Oh well, at least you checked. You never know WHAT'S back there until you look, do you?
#2
I'm working in women's athletic clothes, just folding clothes and putting them back on hangers, when this red-faced angry mustached short man wanders up to me.
RFAMSM: Do you have short athletic pants?
Me: You mean like capris?
RFAMSM: WHAT ARE CAPRIS?
Me: *reaches over to a rack and shows him a pair of terry capris*
RFAMSM: Yes! Those are the pants! They are for my daughter! You wait here, and I will bring her to see them! Don't you move!
When he said "here", he pointed to the floor like I was I dog or something. I'm not being paid to stand about and drool, so I shrugged and went back to work. RFAMSM comes back and can't find me, so he starts to whistle. Like you would whistle for a dog. I am not a dog, so I ignored him.
RFAMSM: *finally seeing me* I was calling for you!
Me: Weird, all I heard was someone whistling. But what can I help you with?
RFAMSM: My daughter! I have brought her for the short pants!
I look up and see that not only has he brought over his daughter, but he brought over the whole g*ddamn family. And they're all just as short as he is. I hand him the capris, and they go to the fitting rooms. They come back a few minutes later.
RFAMSM: These short pants are no good! They look like long pants on my daughter!
Me: I'm sorry to hear that.
RFAMSM: Don't be sorry! Do something about it!
Me: Well, I can recommend women's atheltic shorts, or children's athletic capris.
RFAMSM: Ok.
I go back to what I was doing.
RFAMSM: Well?
Me: What can I help you with?
RFAMSM: Aren't you going to go get the shorts and children's pants?
Me: Sir, there are so many to see here, that I couldn't possibly carry them all over to you. You'd be here all night waiting on me. There's a ton of different colors, and sizes, and I don't know what kinds you like. You'll have to look with your daughter to decide what you want. The athletic shorts are here *waving to the table behind him* and the children's athletic capris are in the children's section by the underwear. Can I help you with anything else?
RFAMSM: *His face even redder with rage* You are incompetent!
Me: *ignoring him completely* Can I help you with anything else?
RFAMSM: No! Go away!
So I went on break.
#3
It's my first day working at the Big Red Bullseye. I haven't even been there three hours at this point. I'm wearing a name tag that says 'New Teammember' instead of my actual name. This woman wanders up and comments on my name tag.
SC: Oh, New Teammember. You must be new.
Me: *great observation, Sherlock* Yep, it's my first day. But how can I help you, ma'am?
SC: Well, I'm looking for tissues that are individually wrapped. Not like the travel sizes, but a pack where each tissue is wrapped individually.
Me: I'd be happy to help you find that, ma'am. Since it's my first day, I'm going to ask another team member. It'll only take a moment.
So I whip out my walkie-talkie, right in front of her, and ask if anyone knew about individually-wrapped tissues. I explain it exactly the same way she did. A CW comes online and says that nope, we don't have 'em.
Me: *even though I knew she could hear the walkie-talkie as well as I did, I repeated the message for her anyway* I'm sorry ma'am, but my co-worker says that we don't have any in stock. Can I help you find something similar?
SC: No, that's okay, I'll just get the other things on my list.
So, no trouble, she seems pretty reasonable. But would I be writing about this on CS if this was the end?
20 minutes later, SC returns to me with a terrifying look in her eyes, a look that was a mix of anger, triumph, and vengeance.
SC: I found the tissues you said you didn't have! They were on Aisle 32B!! You should remember that for next time instead of telling people you don't have them!!
Me: I'm sorry about the misinformation, ma'am. I was just repeating to you what my co-worker said.
SC: Well, now you know that you actually do sell them!! Remember that for next time so people won't have to search for them on their own!!
And she wandered away in a whirlwind of self-satisfaction and ignorance. She made me want to barf. Honestly, it was my FIRST DAY, she knew that, and I only repeated what someone else (who'd been there longer) had told me. Maybe she should have shoved the tissues in CW's face, if she needed so much reassurance that she had a better 'tissue radar' than everyone else.
Sheesh, I wanted to put in more, but the suck is too long already. Maybe more later.



. My problems with co-irkers forgetting to delete backstock locations when they take the last of an item are legion and well-documented. The last thing I need is some shmuck of a customer smugly telling me something is in the backroom when it actually isn't, because the scanny-thingy says so.



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