Wednesday, October 01, 2008

A Lesson for Me..

I’m working at my store and this woman casually comes up and asks if the ski coat rack is for sale. I tell her it is, that it goes for $348. and we would ship it to her if she was interested. She tells me she wants it and tells her husband she’s going to get it for their cabin.

I give her a shipping form to fill out and as she’s filling it out her kids come in. I’d say they are about 10 and 7 years old, both boys, both have ice cream. I start inputting the information into the register and her 10 year old decides he wants to buy a stuffed pheasant. He wants my attention and I tell him that once I’m done with Mom and Dad’s order I’ll have him pay for his own. He starts tugging on my shirt yelling “K, K, Miss K..” and now I’m inputting the info with one hand. The woman’s husband starts asking me how much is this, how much is that. I’m getting a bit panicked and ask one of my employees to help the husband. The wife starts whining about how much longer it will be, they have a flight to catch in 25 mins. I tell her that I’m going as fast as I can. I will make sure they don’t miss their flight. Her son screams at me “K, ring in my pheasant now!” (This is where wearing a tricked out name tag sucks!) and spills his ice cream on the counter next to my hand. In frustration I quickly and abruptly put my hand on top of his, look directly at him and say I will ring it up for you in just a minute ok kiddo? Her 7 year old is now whining about having to go to the bathroom and neither parent wants to take him until I’m done. I start to in put the card number but the card keeps declining. The wife sees this and is starting to have a cow now. This shouldn’t be declining; you must be putting it in wrong. Would it just be easier to just swipe it through the machine? I get the card to go through, she signs for the order and I give her the receipt. I ring in the kid’s stuff and I hand her the receipt. She crumples it up and as I put out my hand to take the crumpled ball of paper she purposely drops it past my hand and onto the counter indicating that she’d told me that she didn’t need it. Instantly I get pissed, and say sarcastically, “Have a nice trip back to Detroit…” as she’s in the terminal walking away, …” the murder capitol of the Midwest.” One of my customers then comes up and asks, “What was that all about?” I shrug, “I think she forgot to pull the pumpkin out of her butt.” I stayed pissed about it for about 30 mins before I figured, she’s taking her brats and weird husband back to the murder capitol of the Midwest and I get to go back to my quiet, “Target” house where I can go to bed. Who is she to me other than another bad customer and a lesson learned?
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