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I was on register duty last week when a hideous beast of a woman (she looked kind of like Gimli, only less feminine) limped through the door and up to my counter. I don’t dock her any points for being ugly, short, or using a cane, but she had that certain air about her—the one that some customers have—that lets a clerk know right away that this customer is going to be a pain in the ass.
The lady had a bag in her hand with a CD in it. I could pretty much guess that she was going to want to do an exchange or return of some kind, which unfortunately requires a manager. The problem was, I was the only person in the department and although I had a walkie-talkie, I knew damn well it didn’t work. But I figured I’d at least give her the benefit of the doubt and see what the issue was. I’d find a way to call a manager when I needed one.
As she got the counter she pulled out a Faith Hill CD and receipt. The CD had one of our bright “USED” stickers on it. She began to explain (in a voice that sounded like a Klingon frog) that we offer a “100% Guarantee” on our used items and that she was not satisfied. Then she elaborated that her problem was with the case – one of those little tabs that connects the front part to the back was broken. I almost laughed out loud. I have at least 30 CDs at home with that problem myself.
So I started to explain that our 100% guarantee is on the actual disc. (Frankly, I was annoyed that I had to explain it since it should be obvious to anyone with two working brain cells.) But in the interest of diplomacy, I did offer to replace the case if I could find a spare around. So I checked the counter behind the register to see what I could find. Meanwhile, she continued to rant about “100%” and what that means. She said the word “satisfaction” another dozen or so times before I emerged with three DVD-player cleaning discs in their CD-sized jewel cases.
I brought the three cases over. The first one had the same problem, a broken tab. The second one had writing over the case in permanent marker. The third one seemed fine, so I gave her the front piece, but she noticed it had a crack across the face. Once again she reiterated that we have a “100% Guarantee”.
I said that I didn’t have any more cases, but that she could check with the music department manager since he would likely have more. Then I picked up my walkie-talkied and asked for Dan. Of course, the walkie didn’t work, but I tried anyway. No response. So I turned around and picked up the phone. I was going to have to page Dan, like a dork, and ask him to dial the movies register phone. But when I turned back around, Gimli was gone.
Apparently she had gotten sick of dealing with me. I watched in the distance as she tromped down an aisle and ran across the Assistant Store Manager. They had some sort of verbal exchange and he went off, presumably to find Dan. Miss Unsatisfied didn’t wait for a response and delved further into the depths of the store.
I just laughed to myself. I had been hoping to contact Dan and make her be his problem. Apparently she was carrying out my plan for me. As long as she was out of my hair, I didn’t care, except that I noticed she had left her Faith Hill CD on my counter. Unfortunately that meant I was going to have to see her again. When Dan came up a few minutes later with a fresh new case and did the switch, he just rolled his eyes at me. She left after thanking him without making eye contact with me. Dan then informed me that she has come in a couple of times before to do weird exchanges and complain about unusual non-problems. I told him next time I’ll just point her straight to him.
