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You saw them doing what? Longish
I've been soaking up the tales of customer suckiness for a long time and now I've finally decided that yes, I must post. I've got 22 years of back log starting when I was five (Mom and Pop owned well ... a Mom and Pop). So I'm really looking forward to commiserating and sharing with you all.
Anyhoo on to the suck fest.
Since this is my first, I thought I would share one of the legends that crops up whenever my family is together, drunk and in for a good laugh.
First some background. The gas station was last one before a pretty big U-Haul hub, so customers were always stopping to fill up before the turn in, as I’m sure we all know the rates on gas for rental returns. Of course, most of them had to have a perfect receipt that detailed every last penny/drop of the transaction, and since our registers didn’t specifically say gas (sucky I know but we were an independent re. cheap) so we had to fill the slips out by hand.
All right, enough with the details, I think I promised you a story. So it starts in the summer on a Saturday of my 16th year. Since I was a family member my parents didn't have to necessarily bide by certain pesky child labor laws so by the time I encountered this SC I was pretty wiped, which just made everything far worse.
Anyway SC saunters in to our store, fully decked out in the costume of the rich Southern Californian, tight too short shirt, tight too short skirt, sunglasses perched on the never been touched by ocean hair, and high heals up to the forehead. Before I even get a chance to say howdy doo, the SC throws ten dollars on the counter and demands a fill up for her U-haul. Now this was several years ago and gas was a lot cheaper, but not that much and those tanks are big, so I told her that if her tank was particularly low ten dollars might not be enough. Of course she went nutso, she said she knew what she was doing and I was just trying to get more money out of her. Okay so that makes since.
Then of course she needs a receipt, and flips out once again when she sees I need to hand write it. Of course she knows I can just print one of the register, I’m just screwing with her because she wouldn’t give me more money. I just rolled my eyes, bit my tongue and handed her the receipt, she pumps the gas and everyone’s happy.
Yeah right. One hour later she comes into the station screaming that she didn’t get enough gas, how U-Haul was charging her up the arse and that I should have known she was going to need more gas since we are right next to the hub.
By this time I had gone into the back for lunch and my brother, a nineteen year old, 6’5” state football player with a penchant for tattoos and piercings, was handling the front. The SC refuses to deal with my brother and demands to speak to the “twit” who had screwed her over so she can get her ten back since she had to pay more at the rental return. Most likely, she thought my bro wouldn’t cave but the young girl would. My brother tries to explain that there was no way I could have known how much gas she needed, and considering the hub was three blocks away she could have seen she hadn’t filled her tank. Of course the SC wouldn’t listen, and seeing me in the back, demanded again that I apologize for screwing her over and give her the ten back. My brother proceeds to inform him that I am on my lunch break so by law I couldn’t help her – not true necessarily, but the boss man wasn’t going to fire his personal slaves (ie children) for lying to a customer. The SC goes full tilt at this telling my brother - knowing full well I could hear - that the “*$&*ing tub of lard can get off her (%$&*ing (part of a woman’s body rhymes with punt) and give her the ten, as a two ton piece of shit like that could stand to miss a lunch or two.”
Yes, I’m one of the poofy, but I’m not that big and I was sixteen (I look young even now so she had to know I was a kid), you just don’t say stuff like that to anyone, let alone a sixteen year old girl.
Now my bro and I have had out encounters, but we follow the family rule, the only person who can talk shit about my brother is me and vice versa. So my brother cuts her off in the middle of the tirade and tells her that only a real stuck up shit head would think saying something like that to anyone was appropriate, and that if she didn’t promptly leave our store he would take the ten dollars and shove it in a very deep, dark place. Of course my brother wasn’t so polite. The SC stuttered a little, then stalked off screaming she knew the owner and was going to come back tomorrow to have us FIRED. Ooohhh scary.
So the punch line. The next day my dad and I are catching lunch when his cell phone rings. It’s the station, the SC from the day before is back and demanding to speak to the owner. The shrieking on the other end was pretty intense, but my father’s a New Yorker and an insurance agent, so he breaths silk but doesn’t take shit from anyone. The whole time he’s keeping it cool, uhhing and yeahing, sorry you feel that way, employee not a psychic, no refund yadda, yadda. It seems to be working because the noise on the other end is still loud but not insane. Then my father breaks, but he’s not angry, just shaking with laughter. This is what I hear on his end:
Pops: “No we sure don’t encourage our employees to have make out sessions in
the back.”
SC: Blah Blah
Pops: “Ma’m let me just stop you right there, I’m not sure what you saw, but I
can tell you the employees yesterday weren’t having sex in the cooler.”
SC: Blahdy blah blah
Pops: “How do I know? Well they can barely tolerate each other … sibling rivalry’s
a real pisser like that. Oh and listen witch, if I’d been there to hear you
insult my daughter I would have broken that ten into ones and let my
son go to town. CLICK”
I love my Pops.
So thanks for being here to let me rant and I can’t wait to share more.
Anyhoo on to the suck fest.
Since this is my first, I thought I would share one of the legends that crops up whenever my family is together, drunk and in for a good laugh.
First some background. The gas station was last one before a pretty big U-Haul hub, so customers were always stopping to fill up before the turn in, as I’m sure we all know the rates on gas for rental returns. Of course, most of them had to have a perfect receipt that detailed every last penny/drop of the transaction, and since our registers didn’t specifically say gas (sucky I know but we were an independent re. cheap) so we had to fill the slips out by hand.
All right, enough with the details, I think I promised you a story. So it starts in the summer on a Saturday of my 16th year. Since I was a family member my parents didn't have to necessarily bide by certain pesky child labor laws so by the time I encountered this SC I was pretty wiped, which just made everything far worse.
Anyway SC saunters in to our store, fully decked out in the costume of the rich Southern Californian, tight too short shirt, tight too short skirt, sunglasses perched on the never been touched by ocean hair, and high heals up to the forehead. Before I even get a chance to say howdy doo, the SC throws ten dollars on the counter and demands a fill up for her U-haul. Now this was several years ago and gas was a lot cheaper, but not that much and those tanks are big, so I told her that if her tank was particularly low ten dollars might not be enough. Of course she went nutso, she said she knew what she was doing and I was just trying to get more money out of her. Okay so that makes since.
Then of course she needs a receipt, and flips out once again when she sees I need to hand write it. Of course she knows I can just print one of the register, I’m just screwing with her because she wouldn’t give me more money. I just rolled my eyes, bit my tongue and handed her the receipt, she pumps the gas and everyone’s happy.
Yeah right. One hour later she comes into the station screaming that she didn’t get enough gas, how U-Haul was charging her up the arse and that I should have known she was going to need more gas since we are right next to the hub.
By this time I had gone into the back for lunch and my brother, a nineteen year old, 6’5” state football player with a penchant for tattoos and piercings, was handling the front. The SC refuses to deal with my brother and demands to speak to the “twit” who had screwed her over so she can get her ten back since she had to pay more at the rental return. Most likely, she thought my bro wouldn’t cave but the young girl would. My brother tries to explain that there was no way I could have known how much gas she needed, and considering the hub was three blocks away she could have seen she hadn’t filled her tank. Of course the SC wouldn’t listen, and seeing me in the back, demanded again that I apologize for screwing her over and give her the ten back. My brother proceeds to inform him that I am on my lunch break so by law I couldn’t help her – not true necessarily, but the boss man wasn’t going to fire his personal slaves (ie children) for lying to a customer. The SC goes full tilt at this telling my brother - knowing full well I could hear - that the “*$&*ing tub of lard can get off her (%$&*ing (part of a woman’s body rhymes with punt) and give her the ten, as a two ton piece of shit like that could stand to miss a lunch or two.”
Yes, I’m one of the poofy, but I’m not that big and I was sixteen (I look young even now so she had to know I was a kid), you just don’t say stuff like that to anyone, let alone a sixteen year old girl.
Now my bro and I have had out encounters, but we follow the family rule, the only person who can talk shit about my brother is me and vice versa. So my brother cuts her off in the middle of the tirade and tells her that only a real stuck up shit head would think saying something like that to anyone was appropriate, and that if she didn’t promptly leave our store he would take the ten dollars and shove it in a very deep, dark place. Of course my brother wasn’t so polite. The SC stuttered a little, then stalked off screaming she knew the owner and was going to come back tomorrow to have us FIRED. Ooohhh scary.
So the punch line. The next day my dad and I are catching lunch when his cell phone rings. It’s the station, the SC from the day before is back and demanding to speak to the owner. The shrieking on the other end was pretty intense, but my father’s a New Yorker and an insurance agent, so he breaths silk but doesn’t take shit from anyone. The whole time he’s keeping it cool, uhhing and yeahing, sorry you feel that way, employee not a psychic, no refund yadda, yadda. It seems to be working because the noise on the other end is still loud but not insane. Then my father breaks, but he’s not angry, just shaking with laughter. This is what I hear on his end:
Pops: “No we sure don’t encourage our employees to have make out sessions in
the back.”
SC: Blah Blah
Pops: “Ma’m let me just stop you right there, I’m not sure what you saw, but I
can tell you the employees yesterday weren’t having sex in the cooler.”
SC: Blahdy blah blah
Pops: “How do I know? Well they can barely tolerate each other … sibling rivalry’s
a real pisser like that. Oh and listen witch, if I’d been there to hear you
insult my daughter I would have broken that ten into ones and let my
son go to town. CLICK”
I love my Pops.
So thanks for being here to let me rant and I can’t wait to share more.
Hahaha! Oh man, how I wish I could find a way to pull off something like your pop. No other time would silence be so priceless.
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