Sunday, November 11, 2007

I want a red T-shirt

Sunday night is the last time and place to be making "demands" of just about anyone at Wal-Mart. Whatever "help" you get is going to be thinking about the long weekend they just spent helping the other 20,000 people just like you spending the other $1 million dollars our store does every weekend.

So when this elderly gentleman rolls up to Customer Service after 10 p.m. on Sunday night and throws a light blue T-shirt on the counter and started yelling at me, I have to say, I wasn't exactly in the best mood. Nevertheless, I did try to help him. He just didn't want my help.

Him: "I want a T-shirt exactly like this (as he's stabbing his huge finger at the blue one) except that it is red, a size large and has a pocket on it." In other words, you want a totally different shirt!
Me: And I, in retrospect, followed a bad plan, and tried to inject some levity into the situation by saying "And I want a winning Lotto ticket!" And then I laughed.
Him: The man gave one of the nastiest looks I've ever had. And then goes "So that's what you have to do to get service around here, win the d*mn lottery?"
Me: "Sir, it was just a joke. Now, where did you find that shirt? Have you looked over in our menswear section. Do you need directions?"
Him: "No, I've been over there with two girls. They can't find any more for me."
Me: "Sir, if they can't find any, then we must be out of the red shirts."
Him: "That's not what I said."
Me: "What exactly are you asking me for then sir?"
Him: "I want you to go on that computer there — and he stabs his finger at my register — and type in "red shirt" and find me a red shirt."
Me: "It doesn't work that way sir."
Him: "Whaddya mean it don't work that way! I know they've got to have perpetual inventory around here. This is a huge company."
Me: "I understand that sir. But inventory is not done by name of product but by UPC number." And I show him the barcode off the shirt he has. And I explain. "This number will tell me how many of this particular shirt we have in stock, how many are in the warehouse and how many have been ordered. But I can't ask the computer for red shirt, pocket shirt or large shirt. That won't tell me anything."
Him: "So you're telling me that you're not going to help me?"

My supervisor, who happened to be at Customer Service the whole time, finally took over.

Supervisor: "Sir, you've had two people looking through menswear for the shirts. They told you we don't have any more. We've told you that we can't just go into the computer and look for a "red shirt with pocket. What else can we do for you? Do you want someone to go back over to menswear with you?

Him: "This is just not the kind of F****** help I expect from F****** Customer Service."

And the throws the shirt he has in his hands into an unattended buggy and stomps out.

I hope he falls and breaks his hip.

15 comments:

High-Maintenance & Hostile Heidi said...

What an unreasonable jerk.

When he said, "I want you to go on that computer there and find me a red shirt", you should have said, "And I want a magic wand to wave to make you disappear!"

I've thought about working retail part-time as seasonal help to make some extra money but then I read your blog and remember all the idiot customers I'd have to deal with. NO THANKS.

I don't know how you do it...

FARfetched said...

LOL, my mother-in-law could sew him up something. He wouldn't pay Wal-Mart prices for it though!

luckycanucky said...

I was always amused at the people who'd drive all the way over, sit in line for 10 or 20 minutes, tell the people at the desk what they need, get sent to that department where someone will help them, wait another 20 minutes because they don't bother hunting down the person to help them but instead stand there like we're supposed to know that's who wanted the help when the friendly associate paged for help in kids' wear. Then spend another 10 or 20 minutes hunting for an identical set of sweats (or near enough) to replace the pair she's had for three months that pulled apart in the crotch.

A half-inch of fix with the help of one needle and a small bit of thread. She could have had that done at home in 5 minutes but because the store has that return if not worn out or grown out, she wasted her time, her kids' time and mine looking for something that no longer existed.

Anonymous said...

What's with the self-censorship here? I've seen a lot worse on blogger so it can't be Google's fault. Let's be adult and type out the whole word... @_@

j-yo said...

I suppose he thought that if you typed "red shirt" into your computer, the system would not only hunt one down for you but also send one to you through a magical system of chutes. Apparently that's how he thinks computers work. If I ever get like that when I'm old I hope someone shoots me.

Anonymous said...

Did you find my check yet???

Anonymous said...

"What's with the self-censorship here? I've seen a lot worse on blogger so it can't be Google's fault. Let's be adult and type out the whole word... @_@"

Yeah, because vulgarity is so "adult." And repeating everything that moron customers say is classy. You know what word was meant there, what's the big deal? Did it make a huge difference in the story? Maybe you need to go find a more "adult" blog to read.

Anonymous said...

Gotta admit, he had a snappy come back for your joke... can't win em all eh? lol

Library Rat said...

So wait...I can't just type in "Red Shirt" and have it sent through the internet to me?

But, I thought the internet was a series of tubes...

Knitty Cat said...

OH please, don't wish a broken hip on him! Then *I* have to deal with the bastard! Do you know how much work a cranky old dude in an abductor pillow who has to take a shit is??? It's far better to wish *death* upon asses like that.

Anonymous said...

OOOH! Sounds somewhat similar to my weekend at customer service.

Some nut-bar came to the desk to pay, her total came to something like $18.43. Fine. Thats super. When the super ran out, bitch slapped down a small back pack with 18.43 IN CHANGE!! We're talking pennies, nickels, dimes, and QUARTERS! Kill me! PLEASE...

Blue Vested Canary

Anonymous said...

@anonymous "What's with the self-censorship here? I've seen a lot worse on blogger so it can't be Google's fault. Let's be adult and type out the whole word... @_@":

I think that the author is trying to keep from being banned from the AdSense program. Read it's TOS. ;)

overbored said...

oh wal-mart, how I loathe thee. Like I really wonder what goes on in the minds of some customers.

Like some people thing all walmart workers have the magically ability to crap items out of thier ass or something. The same goes for when there are not enough cashiers on, they will yell at you as thought they tink you are hiding cashiers in the stock room or something.

class-factotum said...

My favorite -- working at Macy's last Christmas -- the store had closed. I still had five people in line. The two girls at the end of the line give me an item without a price tag.

"Can't you look the price up?" they ask.

Nope. If I don't have the UPC code, I can't find the price.

"Can't you type in the manufacturer and style?"

Sure. In a dream world. Leave me alone, bitches. It's 12:15 a.m., the lights are out, and I'm exhausted.

daniel john said...
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