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It was one of those days where you delude yourself into believing that you're going to make it through an entire shift without on single SC pestering you.
Of course these days are often rare occurances, and today was clearly not one of them.
Working cash with only about an hour to go in my shift, a woman in one of our store wheelchairs, a man pushing a cartload of items and a coworker pushing a flatbed filled with furniture (I work at Ikea) approached my lane.
Now I should say that right off the bat this woman was one of those, "I'm going to tell you how to do your job/whine through the entire process," customers.
But since I was so far having a good day, I was as polite as humanly possible to her and asnwered each of her questions in as much detail as I could. Along with follwing her every order to the letter.
Here's how the story played out:
Since the man and woman had a large order of furniture, I asked them if they would be needing delivery.
Woman: Delivery? What the hell for?
Me: Delivery to your house. (I really didn't know how to respond to that question.)
Woman: Why would I want it delivered?
Me: Well if you weren't able to get your items home on your own, we can offer a delivery service for a reasonable fee.
Woman: I don't understand you. What you are talking about?
Me: If your furniture is too big for your car, or if you didn't drive here, for $59 we can send all your items for next day delivery and you'll have it either tomorrow morning or tomorrow evening. You choose the time with them over at Home Delivery.
Woman: You're confusing me. I don't understand any of this. Just ring my stuff through and shut up, already!
At this point I assume the woman will be taking the items home with her today, so I do not put her order on a Home Delivery form, as would be required if she were in fact getting it shipped to her.
Skip through about 10 minutes of, "How much is that? You're going too slow. You're confusing me. What's my total so far? No, no, that's too much, take that out. How much is it now? Add this. Take out that. What's my total now? Scan this first. Scan this last. Take out everything, start again, add these certain items and tell me how much it is," banter.
After what had seemed like my entire life, I finally finished ringing through all of her items in the order she dictated.
Now, at this point I will let you in on the most common scam customers try to pull on cashiers at Ikea: confusion.
Considering the format of the store and how different the check-out process is from other stores, customers try and use this as an opportunity to confuse us into not scanning items/scanning a lesser priced item in place of a higher priced one etc.
Until this point I had always caught on to them, and had never let it happen to me.
Okay, so I'm ready to get rid of this woman, as she's handing me her credit card.
Her total came to about $750.
Swipe. Decline. Explosion.
Woman: WHY DID IT DECLINE?
Me: I don't know, ma'am, only the credit card company can give you the exact reason for that.
Woman: I don't understand! Why won't you tell me why it declined?
Me: (*thinking* well it's probably because you didn't pay your bloody bill.) Because I don't know why. Only the credit card company can give you that information. On our end we only know when the cards decline, not why.
Woman: Why are you talking so fast!? Stop trying to confuse me. I have money in there, I just know I do!
At this point her male companion is looking for a way to sink into the floor, offereing his credit card to her, suggesting she may just pay him back later.
Woman (to Man): Stop talking to me! you're stressing me out!
Me: Ma'am, if you'd like I can call your credit card company and let them know the card declined. We can try to find out why and see if we can fix the problem.
Woman: You should have called them in the first place. Cards don't just decline, you know! Why did you wait this long to tell me you could call them?
Ugh.
Another note: the coworker who brought over the flatbed cart full of furniture also happens to be a member of HR. At no point did he intervene or speak to the woman. Instead he stood behind and watched this all play out.
Before calling the credit card company I turn off my light and shut my gate, as I expect this will take a while.
On the phone with the card company, I explain the situation to the woman on the other end. During our conversation she informs me that not only has this customer reached her spending limit, she also has a past-due payment. I'm also told that they've upped her limit on more than one occasion in situations like this, and that they won't be doing it again this time.
Woman: Why are YOU talking to them?! You know nothing, give me the damn phone!
I hand her the phone and what happens next is truly amazing to me. Naturally I can only recount the SC's end of the conversation, but in as close to verbatim as I can remember, here's how it went down.
Woman: Hello!? Why aren't you letting me buy my things?
What do you mean I'm at my limit? Can't you just make my limit higher?
Why not?
I'm sorry, I promise I'll send the payment as soon as I can. I swear I will.
(At this point she's very distressed and near tears.)
Please help me, I'm handicapped and I really need this furniture because of my handicap.
(The furniture: a computer desk, a bed, bedside tables and a coffee table. The handicap: a broken leg.)
But don't you care about the handicapped? Can't you make an exception for me?
I KNOW I've done this before, but I really promise that this will be the last time. Please help me, I NEED these things.
(Now she's crying and pleading like Visa is holding her life in their hands.)
Please help me, I need my things! I have to buy a bed! Where am I going to sleep? I can't sleep on the streets! You're trying to make me homeless.
At some point during her conversation with the card company a coordinator (cash supervisor we will now know as "J") comes over and asks me what the deal is.
I explain it to him and he immediately rolls his eyes. He also agrees to hang out until the woman has finished her transaction. His role in this comes in handy later.
A few more minutes of pleading on the phone go by and eventually she conceeds, and the woman throws the receiver at me, informing me that, "Those people don't care about the handicapped. They won't give me SHIT!" whicle sobbing into her hands.
The man she was with comes over to me and very politely, with a look of deep apology in his eyes, hands me his credit card and tells me to charge the entire balance to it.
Woman: You're not paying for my stuff again!
Man: It's okay, really. We'll just add this total to what you already owe me and you can pay me off whenever you can.
From this is gather she has racked up a fairly hefty tab with this man, and wonder how I would go about saving him from this terrible friednship/marriage/co-existence of two human beings.
HIS card goes through with no problem and I'm finally relieved that she'll be wheeling away in no time.
Wrong.
Woman: I need this shit delivered and assembled.
As you can imagine, considering our earlier talk about the delivery service, my brain has just melted and I've died a little inside, because I know what's coming next will not be fun.
Me: Alright, no problem. We'll just have to charge the delivery and assembly separately.
Woman: WHY?! I don't underdtand you!
Me: The delivery company and assembly company are in fact two different companies. Because of that we have to charge separately for the services.
Woman: That makes no sense! You're confusing me!
Me: (I explain it again, only this time a little slower - I realise I can talk very fast sometimes - and in a little better detail.)
Woman: That's not true! Nothing you're telling me is true! The other Ikea doesn't do it that way! This isn't true and I don't understand!
Man: *I* understand. Just go ahead and charge my card.
I ring through the next-day delivery charge of $59. He signs his slip. I'm about to ring through the assembly charge with my SC pipes up again.
Woman: How much is assembly?
Me: It's 15% of the total items you want assembled, with a minimum rate of $50. So whichever total is greater, the 15% or the $50, is the amount you're charged.
Woman: I don't understand! Tell me again.
(I explain it to her again, this time rewording my statement, as I realise some customers get a little confused at this point. Truth be told I often just tell them it's 15%, since most customers would be getting so much assembled that that would be the greater total anyway.)
Woman: You don't make any sense! Just do the damn thing already.
Alright, fine. I calculate the total of the items she's having assembled, then do the math to find 15% of that total.
Woman: Are you too stupid to do the math in your head? Why are you using a calculator.
Now I've decided to ignore her and get this over and done with.
I charge the assembly to the man's card, he signs for it and they're off.
In this process I've forgotten to put the delivery charge on a delivery invoice. Such invoices are required, as they have all the necessary delivery information on them like the customer's name, address, telephone number, etc.
J, the coordinator, notices this but tells me not to worry about it and that he would explain the situation to Home Delivery.
I'm done. She's gone. I'm in the clear, right? Wrong!
The end of my shift comes and I'm in the office cashing out when J approaches me.
J: Remember the crazy lady? What did she buy?
Since I remembered everything vividly, and even had a voided receipt of her items to help my memory along, I told him everything she bought.
J: Ok, because the coffee table wasn't on her final receipt when she got to home delivery.
SHIT! She had me doing so many different things over and over and in different orders that I totally forgot about the table!
Me: (Look of slight horror on my face.) So... now what?
J: Oh nothing, we caught it at Home Delivery and charged it to the card that everything else was on.
Thank goodness!
To this day I've never had a woman QUITE as ridiculous as her. I've had mean ones, I've had nasty ones. But none of them have ever cried.
Of course these days are often rare occurances, and today was clearly not one of them.
Working cash with only about an hour to go in my shift, a woman in one of our store wheelchairs, a man pushing a cartload of items and a coworker pushing a flatbed filled with furniture (I work at Ikea) approached my lane.
Now I should say that right off the bat this woman was one of those, "I'm going to tell you how to do your job/whine through the entire process," customers.
But since I was so far having a good day, I was as polite as humanly possible to her and asnwered each of her questions in as much detail as I could. Along with follwing her every order to the letter.
Here's how the story played out:
Since the man and woman had a large order of furniture, I asked them if they would be needing delivery.
Woman: Delivery? What the hell for?
Me: Delivery to your house. (I really didn't know how to respond to that question.)
Woman: Why would I want it delivered?
Me: Well if you weren't able to get your items home on your own, we can offer a delivery service for a reasonable fee.
Woman: I don't understand you. What you are talking about?
Me: If your furniture is too big for your car, or if you didn't drive here, for $59 we can send all your items for next day delivery and you'll have it either tomorrow morning or tomorrow evening. You choose the time with them over at Home Delivery.
Woman: You're confusing me. I don't understand any of this. Just ring my stuff through and shut up, already!
At this point I assume the woman will be taking the items home with her today, so I do not put her order on a Home Delivery form, as would be required if she were in fact getting it shipped to her.
Skip through about 10 minutes of, "How much is that? You're going too slow. You're confusing me. What's my total so far? No, no, that's too much, take that out. How much is it now? Add this. Take out that. What's my total now? Scan this first. Scan this last. Take out everything, start again, add these certain items and tell me how much it is," banter.
After what had seemed like my entire life, I finally finished ringing through all of her items in the order she dictated.
Now, at this point I will let you in on the most common scam customers try to pull on cashiers at Ikea: confusion.
Considering the format of the store and how different the check-out process is from other stores, customers try and use this as an opportunity to confuse us into not scanning items/scanning a lesser priced item in place of a higher priced one etc.
Until this point I had always caught on to them, and had never let it happen to me.
Okay, so I'm ready to get rid of this woman, as she's handing me her credit card.
Her total came to about $750.
Swipe. Decline. Explosion.
Woman: WHY DID IT DECLINE?
Me: I don't know, ma'am, only the credit card company can give you the exact reason for that.
Woman: I don't understand! Why won't you tell me why it declined?
Me: (*thinking* well it's probably because you didn't pay your bloody bill.) Because I don't know why. Only the credit card company can give you that information. On our end we only know when the cards decline, not why.
Woman: Why are you talking so fast!? Stop trying to confuse me. I have money in there, I just know I do!
At this point her male companion is looking for a way to sink into the floor, offereing his credit card to her, suggesting she may just pay him back later.
Woman (to Man): Stop talking to me! you're stressing me out!
Me: Ma'am, if you'd like I can call your credit card company and let them know the card declined. We can try to find out why and see if we can fix the problem.
Woman: You should have called them in the first place. Cards don't just decline, you know! Why did you wait this long to tell me you could call them?
Ugh.
Another note: the coworker who brought over the flatbed cart full of furniture also happens to be a member of HR. At no point did he intervene or speak to the woman. Instead he stood behind and watched this all play out.
Before calling the credit card company I turn off my light and shut my gate, as I expect this will take a while.
On the phone with the card company, I explain the situation to the woman on the other end. During our conversation she informs me that not only has this customer reached her spending limit, she also has a past-due payment. I'm also told that they've upped her limit on more than one occasion in situations like this, and that they won't be doing it again this time.
Woman: Why are YOU talking to them?! You know nothing, give me the damn phone!
I hand her the phone and what happens next is truly amazing to me. Naturally I can only recount the SC's end of the conversation, but in as close to verbatim as I can remember, here's how it went down.
Woman: Hello!? Why aren't you letting me buy my things?
What do you mean I'm at my limit? Can't you just make my limit higher?
Why not?
I'm sorry, I promise I'll send the payment as soon as I can. I swear I will.
(At this point she's very distressed and near tears.)
Please help me, I'm handicapped and I really need this furniture because of my handicap.
(The furniture: a computer desk, a bed, bedside tables and a coffee table. The handicap: a broken leg.)
But don't you care about the handicapped? Can't you make an exception for me?
I KNOW I've done this before, but I really promise that this will be the last time. Please help me, I NEED these things.
(Now she's crying and pleading like Visa is holding her life in their hands.)
Please help me, I need my things! I have to buy a bed! Where am I going to sleep? I can't sleep on the streets! You're trying to make me homeless.
At some point during her conversation with the card company a coordinator (cash supervisor we will now know as "J") comes over and asks me what the deal is.
I explain it to him and he immediately rolls his eyes. He also agrees to hang out until the woman has finished her transaction. His role in this comes in handy later.
A few more minutes of pleading on the phone go by and eventually she conceeds, and the woman throws the receiver at me, informing me that, "Those people don't care about the handicapped. They won't give me SHIT!" whicle sobbing into her hands.
The man she was with comes over to me and very politely, with a look of deep apology in his eyes, hands me his credit card and tells me to charge the entire balance to it.
Woman: You're not paying for my stuff again!
Man: It's okay, really. We'll just add this total to what you already owe me and you can pay me off whenever you can.
From this is gather she has racked up a fairly hefty tab with this man, and wonder how I would go about saving him from this terrible friednship/marriage/co-existence of two human beings.
HIS card goes through with no problem and I'm finally relieved that she'll be wheeling away in no time.
Wrong.
Woman: I need this shit delivered and assembled.
As you can imagine, considering our earlier talk about the delivery service, my brain has just melted and I've died a little inside, because I know what's coming next will not be fun.
Me: Alright, no problem. We'll just have to charge the delivery and assembly separately.
Woman: WHY?! I don't underdtand you!
Me: The delivery company and assembly company are in fact two different companies. Because of that we have to charge separately for the services.
Woman: That makes no sense! You're confusing me!
Me: (I explain it again, only this time a little slower - I realise I can talk very fast sometimes - and in a little better detail.)
Woman: That's not true! Nothing you're telling me is true! The other Ikea doesn't do it that way! This isn't true and I don't understand!
Man: *I* understand. Just go ahead and charge my card.
I ring through the next-day delivery charge of $59. He signs his slip. I'm about to ring through the assembly charge with my SC pipes up again.
Woman: How much is assembly?
Me: It's 15% of the total items you want assembled, with a minimum rate of $50. So whichever total is greater, the 15% or the $50, is the amount you're charged.
Woman: I don't understand! Tell me again.
(I explain it to her again, this time rewording my statement, as I realise some customers get a little confused at this point. Truth be told I often just tell them it's 15%, since most customers would be getting so much assembled that that would be the greater total anyway.)
Woman: You don't make any sense! Just do the damn thing already.
Alright, fine. I calculate the total of the items she's having assembled, then do the math to find 15% of that total.
Woman: Are you too stupid to do the math in your head? Why are you using a calculator.
Now I've decided to ignore her and get this over and done with.
I charge the assembly to the man's card, he signs for it and they're off.
In this process I've forgotten to put the delivery charge on a delivery invoice. Such invoices are required, as they have all the necessary delivery information on them like the customer's name, address, telephone number, etc.
J, the coordinator, notices this but tells me not to worry about it and that he would explain the situation to Home Delivery.
I'm done. She's gone. I'm in the clear, right? Wrong!
The end of my shift comes and I'm in the office cashing out when J approaches me.
J: Remember the crazy lady? What did she buy?
Since I remembered everything vividly, and even had a voided receipt of her items to help my memory along, I told him everything she bought.
J: Ok, because the coffee table wasn't on her final receipt when she got to home delivery.
SHIT! She had me doing so many different things over and over and in different orders that I totally forgot about the table!
Me: (Look of slight horror on my face.) So... now what?
J: Oh nothing, we caught it at Home Delivery and charged it to the card that everything else was on.
Thank goodness!
To this day I've never had a woman QUITE as ridiculous as her. I've had mean ones, I've had nasty ones. But none of them have ever cried.
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