We deal with a lot of crap in our line of work. Retail is an unsung profession, and a lot of people, particularly if they haven't worked retail, don't understand how hard it is.
It's gorram difficult, let me tell you.
"The customer is always right" is something that, even for the best of us, is a difficult mantra to envoke all day, every day. Particularly when the customer is flat out wrong.
There was a customer today that was wrong. And evil.
I had the day off, which was a rarity and something I was very pleased about. There was a party scheduled, but I had some of my best people at the store, so I wasn't worried about it. Then came the phone call. The store was packed, and with a party of twelve on top of it, there was no way that the two girls, no matter how awesome, could handle it by themselves.
So I drove in, figuring I'd help out a couple of customers, lighten the load a little, and then be on my way.
When I walked in the store, I almost didn't recognize it. I've never seen the store that packed before, and I've been working there for almost two years. It was a madhouse. It looked like Kohls the day after Thanksgiving. I threw on my apron and started running. (I really should have worn my Converse. Flip flops have no traction. I almost died twice.)
All this time, Diane was running around like a madwoman, catering to the party and it's guests with a smile on her face and a spring in her step, despite the insanity in the store at the time. She helped us, we helped her, and we did our best with the onslaught of people we were faced with.
Before I'd even gotten there, the mother of the birthday girl was complaining. The tables weren't right, the bags didn't look nice enough, we didn't provide plates and such (even though she was supposed to give us notice if we needed to supply them), blah blah blah. Then, I get there, and we get the mass amount of people dealt with, and the mother starts in on me.
Now before I tell you what she said, I need you to picture something.
Tinker Bell. Without the attitude problem. Cute, little, blonde, sweet, and covered in glitter. That's Diane.
According to birthday girl's mother, Diane is a henious bitch.
It was all I could do to not laugh. When Diane gets angry about something, we pop popcorn, because the sight of her trying to be fierce is the funniest thing you've ever seen. There's no way she managed to convince this woman that she's anything other than sweet as hell, no matter how good of an actress she is.
I do the company line, and expressed my apologies that things weren't up to her version of perfect, explained that the store was packed (as if she couldn't have seen that herself), and told her that we were doing everything in our power to make her as happy as possible. Then she proceeds to complain to her friends about Diane.
Right in front of her.
I told Diane to go outside and get some air before her head exploded. And she ended up sitting outside the store, crying.
That was the last straw, as far as I was concerned. You can yell at me, you can say you're never coming back, you can write a bunch of shit online about us, whatever. But make one of my girls cry? It's on.
Diane's boyfriend found her out there, and said something to the woman in question. Not something mean, not something in a rude tone of voice. He merely said that he was a customer, and noticed how she had treated Diane, Mischele, and me, and thought it was unacceptable. He suggested that she try and avoid being rude in the future, and walked away.
Then psycho chick sent her mom, or sister, or some crap in, who proceeded to scream at Diane's boyfriend, and threatened to call the cops. Because he was "rude". Yeah, that'd be something the cops would swarm all over, lady. *eyeroll*
So I called in the big guns. Aka, the owner. Now this is a woman that you do not screw with. I don't care if she's in another state, and it would take her six hours to drive to our store to kick your ass, she'll do it. After a few back and forth phone calls, and one phone chucked at Mischele's head, we had our solution.
If that crazy bitch comes back into our store, we're calling security.
I sent Diane home with her boyfriend, who could make Eeyore smile, and then drove home, shaking, and trying to not start crying myself.
Moral of the story kids? Be nice to retail professionals. Because if you make them cry, we'll end you.
I just can't believe this woman's gaul. I was in the military, and I've never had someone be that mean to me before.
