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Wanted to post this yesterday, but decided to try to get a good headstart on Nanowrimo (I'm at 4,011 words btw. Not bad for a first day)
Apparently working at the Bent Staple, far from the center of town where the insanity is supposed to be contained, is not enough to shield be from the crazies and the undesirables.
I considered myself fortunate that I finally work in a place where I don't have to furnish the loyal worshippers of Dionysus
with their beverages to consume and wrapped up weeds to inhale. Alas, I was incorrect.
Scammer Bust
Guy tries to return an old router. The packaging is opened, faded and clearly doesn't look like something we sold, but this guy insists that he bought it here several weeks ago. He doesn't have the receipt and he doesn't know how he paid for it.
Nice try buddy. Have a starbust on me for the utter lack of effort.
It's Halloween...If I Kill You Now...This Place Becomes Part of the Tour and Only My Name Will Be Remembered...
So, I'm not perfect. There are still aspects of the return process that stump me and as such, it took me a little while to process this guy's return. He's not the problem. The problem was the older gentleman standing behind him holding a boxed folding table.
Table Dick = TD
Return Customer = RC
Manager 1: J
Manager 2: D
= Me
I needed to call the manager a couple times. Finally I got everything to work out. Table Guy kept running his mouth and I was just doing my best to focus on the return.
TD: Oh, come on.
Me: (Ignoring him and focusing on my customer) Sorry that took so long.
RC: No problem.
I hand RC his money and he's on his way. TD places the table on the counter, shoving it so hard that it actually brushes my shoulder. I could have easily called foul and pointed out how that was basically assault, but I let it slide and rang up the table.
TD: Your manager should have stayed there and helped you figure it out.
Me: I just had a slight set back sir.
TD: Yeah, well it took forever. (He hands me his credit card to swipe)
Me: (Temperature slowly rising, I grin. Why has no one noticed this is a bad sign?) Sir, I apologize for the wait.
I enter in his card information and lo and behold, the register crashes. It happens sometimes.
Me: I'm sorry, sir, the register just crashed.
TD: Oh, just great.
J comes over. He's wearing regular clothes as it's "Halloween". But I digress.
J; What's going on?
Me: The register crashed again.
TD: You should have stayed here to help him, he clearly doesn't know what he's doing.
Me: (Giving him my best Norman Bates grin) Sir, the register crashed, there's nothing I can do about it. I'm going to have to ask you to go to another register while this resets.
TD rants about how I'm poorly trained. It's going to take a while for the register to reboot, but fortunately they're rining people out at the electronics bench and I ask for my break.
After I punch out, I hear the guy ranting even more.
D: Sir, the register crashed. It's not his fault.
TD rants more, unaware that I am staring at his neck, wondering how good his liver will be with a side of flava beans and a bottle of Code Red, Mountain Dew. (I don't like Chiante much, sorry)
As I emerged from the break room, D and J both assure me that the customer was a jerk and not to let it upset me.
Me: Oh, I'm fine, now. I was just going to kill him and put this place on the trolly tour.
D: Do it, man. We'll sell more pens that way.
Those are the ones that stand out. It's proof positive that the spirit of Halloween is pretty strong, no matter where you work.
Apparently working at the Bent Staple, far from the center of town where the insanity is supposed to be contained, is not enough to shield be from the crazies and the undesirables.
I considered myself fortunate that I finally work in a place where I don't have to furnish the loyal worshippers of Dionysus
with their beverages to consume and wrapped up weeds to inhale. Alas, I was incorrect.Scammer Bust
Guy tries to return an old router. The packaging is opened, faded and clearly doesn't look like something we sold, but this guy insists that he bought it here several weeks ago. He doesn't have the receipt and he doesn't know how he paid for it.
Nice try buddy. Have a starbust on me for the utter lack of effort.
It's Halloween...If I Kill You Now...This Place Becomes Part of the Tour and Only My Name Will Be Remembered...
So, I'm not perfect. There are still aspects of the return process that stump me and as such, it took me a little while to process this guy's return. He's not the problem. The problem was the older gentleman standing behind him holding a boxed folding table.
Table Dick = TD
Return Customer = RC
Manager 1: J
Manager 2: D
= Me
I needed to call the manager a couple times. Finally I got everything to work out. Table Guy kept running his mouth and I was just doing my best to focus on the return.
TD: Oh, come on.
Me: (Ignoring him and focusing on my customer) Sorry that took so long.
RC: No problem.
I hand RC his money and he's on his way. TD places the table on the counter, shoving it so hard that it actually brushes my shoulder. I could have easily called foul and pointed out how that was basically assault, but I let it slide and rang up the table.
TD: Your manager should have stayed there and helped you figure it out.
Me: I just had a slight set back sir.
TD: Yeah, well it took forever. (He hands me his credit card to swipe)
Me: (Temperature slowly rising, I grin. Why has no one noticed this is a bad sign?) Sir, I apologize for the wait.
I enter in his card information and lo and behold, the register crashes. It happens sometimes.
Me: I'm sorry, sir, the register just crashed.
TD: Oh, just great.
J comes over. He's wearing regular clothes as it's "Halloween". But I digress.
J; What's going on?
Me: The register crashed again.
TD: You should have stayed here to help him, he clearly doesn't know what he's doing.
Me: (Giving him my best Norman Bates grin) Sir, the register crashed, there's nothing I can do about it. I'm going to have to ask you to go to another register while this resets.
TD rants about how I'm poorly trained. It's going to take a while for the register to reboot, but fortunately they're rining people out at the electronics bench and I ask for my break.
After I punch out, I hear the guy ranting even more.
D: Sir, the register crashed. It's not his fault.
TD rants more, unaware that I am staring at his neck, wondering how good his liver will be with a side of flava beans and a bottle of Code Red, Mountain Dew. (I don't like Chiante much, sorry)
As I emerged from the break room, D and J both assure me that the customer was a jerk and not to let it upset me.
Me: Oh, I'm fine, now. I was just going to kill him and put this place on the trolly tour.
D: Do it, man. We'll sell more pens that way.
Those are the ones that stand out. It's proof positive that the spirit of Halloween is pretty strong, no matter where you work.
But then again this is my first official writing day since I worked a 12 hour yesterday. I am trying to make the sight work for me so I can update my word count but they are doing maintenance.... ^_^ Good job and good luck!
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