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Hambeasts and Entitlement Whores (Long)
Or, Dear God, What Have I Done Wrong?
These tales happened from last week, and I was just waiting to get out all the nitty-gritty details. First, a little more background information on the kinds of customers I serve.
Hambeasts: Normally women who are massive in circumference and booking a nasty attitude. Only applies to Sucky Customers, as I have several larger women who are the epitome of perfect shoppers and whom I love very dearly.
"100% Satisfaction Guaranteed" EWs: The women who come into my store and immediately remind me that we have a store policy that guarantees the satisfaction of the customer should he or she have a problem with any of our products. Normally a bad sign that they have fucked something up and now want to be compensated for their stupidity.
My first Tale of Woe begins with the second kind of customer. Unfortunately, I forgot to bring my crack-pipe to work that day, so I was unable to escape the migraine that walked through my doors, but, my awesome manager provided chocolate after all was said and done with.
Now, like most stores, we hate doing returns, as it shows badly on our overall transactions and our store loses points in the completely useless point system some genius at home office decided to implement. Thus, whenever a customer comes in with a couple bras or pajama sets we do our very best to convince them to exchange for something else instead of just returning the items. Sometimes there are customers who are more than happy to exchange, sometimes they just want their money back...and then there are entitlement whores from the lowest depths of hell, so intent on getting their way they throw the rulebook at your head and proclaim its contents like some demonic prophet of the Devil himself.
Cue Players:
BB:
BL: Boss Lady
EW:
BB: *minding my own business, waiting for customers to come in so I may greet them*
EW: *strides through our doors with hellish purpose and a large bag*
BB: *sighing* Hi, is there anything I can help you with today?
EW: Yes, I have to exchange all these items, and I was told by another girl in one of your other stores that you would accommodate me no matter what, because you have a 100% SATISFACTION GUARANTEED TO YOUR CUSTOMERS.
Note: She spoke this as loudly as "THE END IS NIGH" prophet who lives in front of the White House. I did not appreciate this, as I was the only other person in the store and didn't really give a damn about what some other boob told her. While we do have a 100% Satisfaction Guaranteed policy that I am more than happy to fulfill on most occasions, we do have some exceptions.
BB: *begin to pick through the bag, pulling out five bras...I make a face which says something along the lines of, "What sort of fresh hell is this?" and give the EW a severe stare* Ma'am, these two bras here I can take back, because the tags are on them, but the other three have clearly been worn and washed more than once and since you have no receipt I cannot exchange them out.
EW:
Now, let me describe these bras. Two were tagged and in good enough condition that I could be persuaded to exchange them back with no fuss. However, the other three looked about a good couple years old and had been washed and worn repeatedly. You could tell because of the way the fabric was fraying and getting those annoying little balls of fluff most clothes get after being used a lot. There was significant fraying around the back and along the bottom of the underwire, and the straps were stretched to the point they no longer had elasticity. In other words, these bras had been used to the fullest and now deserved a proper burial somewhere. My EW did not understand this.
EW: But I was told by another girl that you would exchange it no matter what!
BB: Yeah, unless the bra is so damaged I can't resell it. These bras have clearly seen a lot of use.
EW: But I only wore them a couple times and I didn't like the way they fit! I was told you have 100% CUSTOMER SATISFACTION GUARANTEED!!!1one!
Okay. Back up, hellbitch. She says she wore them only 'a few' times, and they didn't fit her right. Why, in the name of all that is holy, would you continue to wear something that didn't fit? Why would you do it??? I knew she was lying immediately; all I had to do was look at the bras and I knew she had had them for a very long time.
BB: Ma'am, I'd be more than happy to exchange out these two bras here, but there's literally nothing I can do about these other ones.
EW: But-but-but...!
BB: *sighing again, I call over the BL who tells the customer to go find some bras she likes and then roots through the bag, bringing her Hammer of Awesomeness down to declare the same verdict as I did: the bras were rank and couldn't be sold back*
BB: *comes back to the counter with a pile of bras, expecting to get her exchange*
BL: Ma'am, I'm sorry, but I can't do anything about these three bras, since they have no tag and you have no receipt. Also, they look very worn, so I couldn't take them back anyways. I'll be more than happy to exchange the other two items, though.
EW: *looks very put out, almost if she is about to cry, bu grudgingly accepts her loss with what little dignity she has left*
I'm certain she was trying to scam us. Some women do that: they buy bras, wear them until they no longer work, and then come in and try to pull off the whole "Oh, the bras didn't fit me I'm so unsatisfied WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO TO MAKE ME HAPPY???"
My answer: Fuck of, you cheap bitch. Our bras are always at the best price and we always have great deals going on, so there's really no excuse to pull these lame scams on us.
My second exchange happened several days later, just before we closed.
HB: Self-righteous Hambeast
BB: Moi
HB: *waddles in, smile on her face and a purse over her shoulder* Hiya!
BB: *grins; I love it when customers beat me to a greeting* Hey, how are you? What can I help you with this evening?
HB: Welp, I need a few bras, but I went to Victoria's Secret and they measured me at a 44D!
Note: I despise VS. The sales reps there are snobby, rude, and often willing to help customers who don't look like the models in the windows. Nine times out of ten they measure wrong and then try to stuff women into the wrong size bra, lying all the way about how good it makes them look. I have experienced their bumfuckery in just about every VS store I've ever been in and get a great amount of sick pleasure in telling them that no, I'm not a D, I'm a triple D.
BB: Bah, they never know what they're doing! Here, let me take you back in and measure you! *I lead my customer behind some racks and measure her and am pleased to find that she's a 42C. I inform her as much and watch as her face registers shock*
HB: Whaaaaaaaaaaaaat? Nooooo, impossible! I can't be a 42! I don't want to be a 42!
And thus, my lovely, chipper customer crossed the line of Pleasantly Plump and became the dreaded Wild Hambeast.
BB: Well, ma'am, we have fitting rooms and I'd be more than happy to find you a couple styles for you to try on.
EW: Oh no, I can't be a 42...I'll just take a 38B, it's what I've been wearing.
Stop. Hammer Time.
One thing I hate more than anything is when I measure a customer and tell them their size and they immediately try to tell me I'm wrong. No, I'm not wrong. I've been measuring customers for three years and I know what I'm doing. You, on the other hand, the customer, knows absolutely dick about breasts and bra sizes, even though you've had them for most of your life. This is my job it's what I'm paid to do. I like doing my job well, I enjoy being able to help women find their correct bra sizes and styles that fit, make them feel comfortable, and look good. I'm not going to deliberately sell you the wrong size to stroke your gigantic ego, because it won't fit and you'll eventually bring it back and we'll have to do a return.
Frustrated, I tell the customer to pick some styles she likes and let me know when she wants to try them on. Monstro grabs a bunch of bars, all in a 38B, and I let her into the fitting room...and I sit outside, cross my arms, and wait. It won't be long before she rings the Assistance Bell and asks me to bring her a larger size. I'm still going to get my way. Muaha.
HB: *not five minutes after being let in, she rings the bell*
BB: *knocking on the door half a second after she rings the bell, calling out in my most chipper voice* Yeeeeeeesssssss?
HB: *she cracks the door open painfully slow, letting the shame and embarrassment seep out all over my feet. She holds out a pale blue bra and whispers in a most dejected tone* Um...can I have the next size up?
BB: *loudly* Sure thing, do you want me to bring you a 40B or a 40C?
Now, I admit that was a little rude of me, but there was no one else in the store except for my coworker, so her dignity was spared some. I never understood the embarrassment that came with being a 40 or up anyways. Sooner or later, most women get to be those sizes themselves as they age. Besides, no one really cares. Really.
HB: Um, better get me a C.
BB: *thinks to self, "That's right Gigantor, you take this C!" and runs off to get the 40C. In anticipation, I also bring the 42C, hand her the first item, and wait*
HB: *ten minutes later, she cracks the door open and waves me over* Ummm, this is a little better, but it's still a bit tight. You think I should go for a bigger cup size?
BB: Nope, the cup looks like it fits perfectly. I'll just bring you a 42C and we'll see how that goes. *I bring her the aforementioned size and practically stare her into submission before she takes the damn thing; five minutes later she steps out, cheeks glowing with this fresh just-been-boink'd look and practically throws the undesirables at me*
HB: Oh my gaaaaaaaaaawd, this fit perfectly!!! It's like a dreaaaaaam! *flounced off to buy fifteen of the suckers*
See, if she had only listened to me at first, we'd have saved all this drama for someone else. It's unbelievable how many women come into my store and flip their shit when I measure them and tell them they're a size bigger than they thought. It's like they're ashamed to be busty or something. As someone who's put up with huge tatas for most of her life, I really could care less; as long as the bra lifts me up and gets me out, I don't care if the size sounds bad or whatever. Not like anyone sees my undies anyways.
And thus ends my two epic tales.
These tales happened from last week, and I was just waiting to get out all the nitty-gritty details. First, a little more background information on the kinds of customers I serve.
Hambeasts: Normally women who are massive in circumference and booking a nasty attitude. Only applies to Sucky Customers, as I have several larger women who are the epitome of perfect shoppers and whom I love very dearly.
"100% Satisfaction Guaranteed" EWs: The women who come into my store and immediately remind me that we have a store policy that guarantees the satisfaction of the customer should he or she have a problem with any of our products. Normally a bad sign that they have fucked something up and now want to be compensated for their stupidity.
My first Tale of Woe begins with the second kind of customer. Unfortunately, I forgot to bring my crack-pipe to work that day, so I was unable to escape the migraine that walked through my doors, but, my awesome manager provided chocolate after all was said and done with.
Now, like most stores, we hate doing returns, as it shows badly on our overall transactions and our store loses points in the completely useless point system some genius at home office decided to implement. Thus, whenever a customer comes in with a couple bras or pajama sets we do our very best to convince them to exchange for something else instead of just returning the items. Sometimes there are customers who are more than happy to exchange, sometimes they just want their money back...and then there are entitlement whores from the lowest depths of hell, so intent on getting their way they throw the rulebook at your head and proclaim its contents like some demonic prophet of the Devil himself.
Cue Players:
BB:
BL: Boss Lady
EW:
BB: *minding my own business, waiting for customers to come in so I may greet them*
EW: *strides through our doors with hellish purpose and a large bag*
BB: *sighing* Hi, is there anything I can help you with today?
EW: Yes, I have to exchange all these items, and I was told by another girl in one of your other stores that you would accommodate me no matter what, because you have a 100% SATISFACTION GUARANTEED TO YOUR CUSTOMERS.
Note: She spoke this as loudly as "THE END IS NIGH" prophet who lives in front of the White House. I did not appreciate this, as I was the only other person in the store and didn't really give a damn about what some other boob told her. While we do have a 100% Satisfaction Guaranteed policy that I am more than happy to fulfill on most occasions, we do have some exceptions.
BB: *begin to pick through the bag, pulling out five bras...I make a face which says something along the lines of, "What sort of fresh hell is this?" and give the EW a severe stare* Ma'am, these two bras here I can take back, because the tags are on them, but the other three have clearly been worn and washed more than once and since you have no receipt I cannot exchange them out.
EW:
Now, let me describe these bras. Two were tagged and in good enough condition that I could be persuaded to exchange them back with no fuss. However, the other three looked about a good couple years old and had been washed and worn repeatedly. You could tell because of the way the fabric was fraying and getting those annoying little balls of fluff most clothes get after being used a lot. There was significant fraying around the back and along the bottom of the underwire, and the straps were stretched to the point they no longer had elasticity. In other words, these bras had been used to the fullest and now deserved a proper burial somewhere. My EW did not understand this.
EW: But I was told by another girl that you would exchange it no matter what!
BB: Yeah, unless the bra is so damaged I can't resell it. These bras have clearly seen a lot of use.
EW: But I only wore them a couple times and I didn't like the way they fit! I was told you have 100% CUSTOMER SATISFACTION GUARANTEED!!!1one!
Okay. Back up, hellbitch. She says she wore them only 'a few' times, and they didn't fit her right. Why, in the name of all that is holy, would you continue to wear something that didn't fit? Why would you do it??? I knew she was lying immediately; all I had to do was look at the bras and I knew she had had them for a very long time.
BB: Ma'am, I'd be more than happy to exchange out these two bras here, but there's literally nothing I can do about these other ones.
EW: But-but-but...!
BB: *sighing again, I call over the BL who tells the customer to go find some bras she likes and then roots through the bag, bringing her Hammer of Awesomeness down to declare the same verdict as I did: the bras were rank and couldn't be sold back*
BB: *comes back to the counter with a pile of bras, expecting to get her exchange*
BL: Ma'am, I'm sorry, but I can't do anything about these three bras, since they have no tag and you have no receipt. Also, they look very worn, so I couldn't take them back anyways. I'll be more than happy to exchange the other two items, though.
EW: *looks very put out, almost if she is about to cry, bu grudgingly accepts her loss with what little dignity she has left*
I'm certain she was trying to scam us. Some women do that: they buy bras, wear them until they no longer work, and then come in and try to pull off the whole "Oh, the bras didn't fit me I'm so unsatisfied WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO TO MAKE ME HAPPY???"
My answer: Fuck of, you cheap bitch. Our bras are always at the best price and we always have great deals going on, so there's really no excuse to pull these lame scams on us.
My second exchange happened several days later, just before we closed.
HB: Self-righteous Hambeast
BB: Moi
HB: *waddles in, smile on her face and a purse over her shoulder* Hiya!
BB: *grins; I love it when customers beat me to a greeting* Hey, how are you? What can I help you with this evening?
HB: Welp, I need a few bras, but I went to Victoria's Secret and they measured me at a 44D!
Note: I despise VS. The sales reps there are snobby, rude, and often willing to help customers who don't look like the models in the windows. Nine times out of ten they measure wrong and then try to stuff women into the wrong size bra, lying all the way about how good it makes them look. I have experienced their bumfuckery in just about every VS store I've ever been in and get a great amount of sick pleasure in telling them that no, I'm not a D, I'm a triple D.
BB: Bah, they never know what they're doing! Here, let me take you back in and measure you! *I lead my customer behind some racks and measure her and am pleased to find that she's a 42C. I inform her as much and watch as her face registers shock*
HB: Whaaaaaaaaaaaaat? Nooooo, impossible! I can't be a 42! I don't want to be a 42!
And thus, my lovely, chipper customer crossed the line of Pleasantly Plump and became the dreaded Wild Hambeast.
BB: Well, ma'am, we have fitting rooms and I'd be more than happy to find you a couple styles for you to try on.
EW: Oh no, I can't be a 42...I'll just take a 38B, it's what I've been wearing.
Stop. Hammer Time.
One thing I hate more than anything is when I measure a customer and tell them their size and they immediately try to tell me I'm wrong. No, I'm not wrong. I've been measuring customers for three years and I know what I'm doing. You, on the other hand, the customer, knows absolutely dick about breasts and bra sizes, even though you've had them for most of your life. This is my job it's what I'm paid to do. I like doing my job well, I enjoy being able to help women find their correct bra sizes and styles that fit, make them feel comfortable, and look good. I'm not going to deliberately sell you the wrong size to stroke your gigantic ego, because it won't fit and you'll eventually bring it back and we'll have to do a return.
Frustrated, I tell the customer to pick some styles she likes and let me know when she wants to try them on. Monstro grabs a bunch of bars, all in a 38B, and I let her into the fitting room...and I sit outside, cross my arms, and wait. It won't be long before she rings the Assistance Bell and asks me to bring her a larger size. I'm still going to get my way. Muaha.
HB: *not five minutes after being let in, she rings the bell*
BB: *knocking on the door half a second after she rings the bell, calling out in my most chipper voice* Yeeeeeeesssssss?
HB: *she cracks the door open painfully slow, letting the shame and embarrassment seep out all over my feet. She holds out a pale blue bra and whispers in a most dejected tone* Um...can I have the next size up?
BB: *loudly* Sure thing, do you want me to bring you a 40B or a 40C?
Now, I admit that was a little rude of me, but there was no one else in the store except for my coworker, so her dignity was spared some. I never understood the embarrassment that came with being a 40 or up anyways. Sooner or later, most women get to be those sizes themselves as they age. Besides, no one really cares. Really.
HB: Um, better get me a C.
BB: *thinks to self, "That's right Gigantor, you take this C!" and runs off to get the 40C. In anticipation, I also bring the 42C, hand her the first item, and wait*
HB: *ten minutes later, she cracks the door open and waves me over* Ummm, this is a little better, but it's still a bit tight. You think I should go for a bigger cup size?
BB: Nope, the cup looks like it fits perfectly. I'll just bring you a 42C and we'll see how that goes. *I bring her the aforementioned size and practically stare her into submission before she takes the damn thing; five minutes later she steps out, cheeks glowing with this fresh just-been-boink'd look and practically throws the undesirables at me*
HB: Oh my gaaaaaaaaaawd, this fit perfectly!!! It's like a dreaaaaaam! *flounced off to buy fifteen of the suckers*
See, if she had only listened to me at first, we'd have saved all this drama for someone else. It's unbelievable how many women come into my store and flip their shit when I measure them and tell them they're a size bigger than they thought. It's like they're ashamed to be busty or something. As someone who's put up with huge tatas for most of her life, I really could care less; as long as the bra lifts me up and gets me out, I don't care if the size sounds bad or whatever. Not like anyone sees my undies anyways.
And thus ends my two epic tales.
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