It seems nowadays, customers complain about the littlest things. These employees share the most ridiculous reason a customer complained and asked for their manager. Content has been edited for clarity.
Don’t Apologize For Him Being An Idiot
“When I was 16, I worked on the tills at Tesco (a U.K. supermarket, like Walmart). I worked late on Friday nights and all day Saturday.
One unremarkable Friday night, at about 10 pm, I was running through a man’s weekly shop, you know all the basics, bread, eggs, cereals, meat, fruit, and veg. Some of the fruit and veg were labeled individually with a four-digit code, so I had to type the codes in the till. I picked up a large orange with a sticker on it and typed in its four-digit code.
The till screen told me this was the code for a satsuma, a significantly smaller orange-colored fruit that is not an orange and so by extension cheaper. I voided the satsuma and started looking through the till directory for the code for an orange.
‘Why did you void that satsuma?’ said a voice suddenly. I looked up and the man had stopped packing his shopping at the end of the checkout and was now in front of my till.
‘Oh, it has the wrong sticker on it so I’m just finding the code for orange,’ I said politely.
‘That’s not an orange, that’s a satsuma,’ he told me.
I had stopped looking for the orange code at this point and stared at the obviously large orange in my hand that was definitely not a satsuma.
‘I understand it has the label on for a satsuma,’ I said, ‘but it’s actually an orange. Did you want me to put it aside and carry on with your shopping?’
‘No, I want you to give me my satsuma. It’s a satsuma, not an orange. Are you an idiot?’ He asked me.
Bear in mind I was only 16 and he was a grown man leaning over my till. I immediately went bright red, really embarrassed (for no reason, as I was right!)
‘I want to speak to your manager! If the label says satsuma, then that’s what it is!’ he pointed out.
At this point, an older colleague (older than a 16-year-old, she was about 30) behind me on the till turned around and came over, who as it turned out was actually the till manager.
She asked what the problem was and if she could help me out. I explained how the orange had the wrong sticker on it for a satsuma so I had voided the satsuma and was looking for orange but the man was insisting it was a satsuma. My till manager leaned over and typed in the code on the satsuma on my till. Sure enough, satsuma came up. I know we’re only talking about the 50p difference or something but it was my first job and I didn’t want to mess up.
My till manager explained, as she voided the satsuma, that the orange did indeed have the wrong sticker on it. By this point, my queue had built up, that late on a Friday only 5 of about 40 tills are open because there aren’t many people shopping that late, but he’d lingered long enough for people to build up.
‘I said I wanted to see her manager!’ said the man defiantly.
‘Actually Sir, I am her manager.’
‘Yeah right, I want to see someone older!’ he responded.
To get to the end of the story and the point, my till manager buzzed for the store manager who came over after a few minutes and got caught up in the situation that should never have been a situation in the first place. She informed the customer that the orange must have been labeled incorrectly, although it was highly likely he’d swapped the stickers and hoped I wouldn’t notice or care. He was not happy about being challenged about what fruit this was, and less so by having to talk to women about it for some reason.
In the U.K. we don’t all operate on the customer is always right because sometimes they are an idiot. The store manager told me to ring through his shopping, whilst my till manager packed the rest of his shopping in bags and the trolley.
When that was done, the store manager signed off the till receipt and asked the man to follow him to customer services where she would sort everything out. She just wanted him out of the way so I could keep serving other customers.
I don’t know what came of satsuma man but my till manager said not to worry. As I started putting through the next customer’s shopping, apologizing for the holdup, she said, ‘Don’t apologize for that idiot, it was definitely an orange!’
Too Early For That Nonsense
“One morning in my days as a mall security officer, I was in the Tim Horton’s in the mall. It was an hour or so before my shift, to get a coffee and sandwich before my shift started. I had earbuds in and took them out as I noticed a woman in the front, screaming at the top of her lungs at the cashier, demanding to see a manager or owner.
I tapped the shoulder of the woman in front of me and asked if she knew why this had started.
She said, ‘No, the woman just started yelling randomly.’
The whole store was watching this woman scream and the manager was near the back yelling. The cashier was nearly in tears.
I decided enough was enough and stepped to the front myself, asking both to be quiet.
Woman: ‘F off unless you’re the store owner.’
Me: ‘I’m the security for the mall. What’s going on?’
Woman: ‘She asked me if I wanted a hashbrown with my bagel and coffee! I don’t want a hashbrown!’
Me: ‘Pardon me?’
Woman: ‘I don’t want a hashbrown! Just give me my bagel and coffee! What is she even asking?! Where the heck is the owner?!’
Me: ‘Ma’am, you aren’t required to get the hashbrown, it’s part of a combo and—’
Woman: ‘Don’t you ma’am me, boy! It’s rude and disrespectful for her to ask if I want a hashbrown and I want her to be fired! Why is she asking me for something I don’t want!’
She then pointed at the manager and said, ‘I’m not going anywhere until I see the owner and get a full refund.’
Me: ‘The only place you’re going is out of this store. Right now.’
Woman: ‘You can’t tell me where to go, prick.’
Me: ‘Well, actually, yes, I can. I’m pretty sure I have at least two people, if not more, who are being bothered by your presence here.’
Then I turned to the store and asked, ‘Who here will give a statement if I call the police?’
Every hand in the store went up.
Woman (fuming): “’Eff you! Eff all of you! I wouldn’t be treated like this in America!’
Then she pointed at me and said, ‘I want you manager!’
Me: ‘Well, you aren’t in America now, and I highly doubt any decent place there would deal with your ridiculous behavior either. As for my manager, I’ll happily walk you right to him right now if you want. You have ten seconds to leave this store before I DO call the police. Go. NOW. One….two….’
She stormed off into the mall area in a huff. I then took my place back in line. When I did get to the front, both the cashier and manager thanked me profusely, and gave me my order for free. Upon my exiting the store, the woman was seated at a mall food court table and snarled at me as I walked past. I smiled at her, and said have a good morning, ma’am, waving goodbye to her.”
Misspelling Or Not?
“I used to work as a body piercer in a tattoo shop. One time I prepared a text tattoo that said, ”Live and Let Die’ on a man’s arm.
He said, ‘You spelled it wrong.’
I replied, ‘I don’t see the mistake.’
He explained, ‘Die’ should actually be spelled like ‘dye.’ Like the way it’s spelled in ‘I dyed my hair.’
I corrected him saying it was the other way around. Mind you, I was 23 and he was in his 40s.
He said, ‘Sorry, I don’t mean to embarrass you but you might want to listen to your elders.’
I looked it up to prove to him the difference and he kept saying it was wrong.
I said, ‘We’ll spell it how you wish but I would hate to knowingly let you walk out of here with a misspelled tattoo.’
He replied, ‘That’s rude. And it’s not misspelled, it’s not my fault you didn’t stay in school. I demand to see the manager.’
At the time my manager was in so I got her (a woman in her 30s), who agreed with me.
He literally said, ‘Where’s the owner?! HE can set this right.’
We got him on the phone (a man in his 50s) and the customer was quickly red-faced when he too said I was right. He didn’t apologize and got his correctly spelled tattoo.”
Dude, It’s Just Ice Cream… Chill
“I worked at Châteraisé, a patisserie (a shop selling cakes and pastries) in Japan. Our shop also sold Japanese ice-cream too.
There was this old man who would come in to buy an ice cream 2–3 times a day. He loved it, by the looks of it. His ice cream choice was always chocolate and banana ice cream, which in the store cost 80 cents. He was definitely a regular, seeing how it was possible to see him come about 3 times if you worked an 8-hour shift.
He would come, give the money, and leave. Simple and quick. It saved us time, and we could do our thing without waiting or worrying about him. Unless he isn’t served immediately, then he becomes rude.
If he waited in line for more than a minute, he would shout at us to serve him or open the other cash counter to do so. If we didn’t do anything, he screamed at us for our being rude. Yet, he was the one who cursed at us on multiple occasions.
So, one day I was working along with three other co-workers One was making and preparing the cakes, another was working the cash register and the other was helping customers pack their cakes. I was helping pack the items and giving them to the customers at the counter.
We had a line, and as I was helping the person next in line, I noticed the old man in the back of the line with his ice cream. After a while, he then started shouting at us to open another register.
This caused everyone in the shop to stare at him. My co-worker who was making the cakes said, ‘Sir, you have to wait in line.’
Him: ‘If your boss was around, then I would get served immediately.’
Co-worker: ‘You have to wait.’
Him: ‘No! I demand to see your boss! I needed to be served immediately!’
Trying to calm the man down, I went to the other counter and called him over.
Me: ‘I can serve you.’
But that didn’t calm him down, he kept complaining to me. I remained silent because I just wanted him out already. After being served, he went back toward my co-worker and started screaming again. This time, my co-worker remained silent and continued making cakes.
Me: ‘Sir, you need to leave! You have your ice cream, so there’s no need to make a scene like a baby.’
Him: ‘No, I want his name.’
He was pointing to my co-worker.
I looked at my co-worker and he told the man his name.
Me: ‘Okay, you got his name. Now leave.’
Him: ‘No I want to speak to your boss.’
Me: ‘You will have to come another day since he is not out here today.’
He then left without a word. But he came back the next day, still wanting to speak with my boss about my co-worker. My boss did not want to make matters worse, so he just said he would talk to the co-worker. But in truth, my boss sided with his employee.
He still comes in daily to buy that ice cream, but I can’t shake the feeling that that old man is basically a baby in an oversized body.”