Bloody returns, prostitutes, flying cold cuts and haunted ovens: Local retail workers’ nightmares

For many people who work in retail, the holidays are the busiest time for a job that even during slow periods can be challenging.

Drilled down to its essence, the test of working retail can be summed up in five words: “The customer is always right.”

Nobody really believes it, but when it comes to dealing with the shopping public, that one rule is golden. If you’re a store clerk, shoe salesman or gas-and-go attendant, it’s what you keep in mind when the occasional customer calls you every name in the book, demands to speak to your manager and threatens to have you fired — all over something that may have been the customer’s fault, we might add, but remember the golden rule.

Sales — as with any job that deals primarily with the public — can be a tough way to earn your keep, and yet it’s how one in 10 Americans puts food on the table. According to one recent study, 28 percent of retail workers have completed some college while 15 percent have a bachelor’s degree or higher. The average age of the retail worker is 37 years old and a third of them support at least one dependent.

So, why is it so tough dealing with the public day after day, selling them goods or services? One recent “expert” response on the Q&A website Quora produced this answer:

* You’re a verbal punching bag for customers: Shoppers know that when it comes to the corporate food chain, the man or woman behind the cash register is the low rung on the ladder or quite close to it. Who better to scream at, demean or threaten for a shopper who’s having a bad day?

* You must surrender in every conflict. It all goes back to the golden rule. You remember the golden rule, don’t you?

* You have no control over your work. When you work in retail, there are always plenty of people above you on the management ladder. Those people think they’re smarter than you, so your ideas seldom count.

* There is no connection between performance and pay. You can be the best store clerk, shoe salesman or quick-stop cashier, but the sad fact is, the people who pay you know that you can be replaced rather easily.

* Your schedule is unpredictable and fluctuating. “That tosspot Lila called in sick again, we’re going to need you to work today, OK?”

There are unquestionably plenty of people who enjoy the rewards and handle the challenges of working in retail. But the fact is, we don’t tend to hear from people who are thrilled with their work. Instead, the Sun Journal’s recent query prompted memories from readers who have had amusing, frustrating and just strange experiences with customers, from bloody pants, to stalkers, to a demonized toaster oven.  

Bloody returns at L.L.Bean

Tracy Clark Gosselin, Lisbon

I am a former retail worker. I have worked the retail scene as a vendor representative and as a front-line on-the-floor salesperson. This is the biggest reason that I am happy to come in to work on Black Friday so that my co-workers can go shopping. Black Friday still gives me the heebie-jeebies.

As a salesperson, I worked for L.L.Bean Hunt/Fish.

You notice that I write that as all one title: We Hunt/Fish folks seek to differentiate ourselves from the other “Beaners.”Hunt/Fish was the original L.L. Bean, where the Maine hunting shoe – not the Bean boot – was sold. We were proud of that. I still am. The Hunt/Fish folks are still proud of their positions with L.L.Bean and the place that it occupies in the history of Maine.

I was a sales rep (not a cashier – there’s a difference) in the Fishing Department, and spent eight summers as a fly-fishing instructor in the Outdoor Discovery School.

Being a woman in a male-dominated area led to some frustration and some fun, too. Once I proved that I really did know my stuff, the male sales reps were great to work with, and became great friends and even fishing buddies. The customers took a little more training.

I saw a woman in line at customer service busily removing the Goodwill tags from a bag of L.L. Bean clothing that she was returning. Worst one though, was the guy that attempted to return a pair of camo hunting pants that had fresh blood all over them. Got his deer, didn’t need the pants any longer.

Threw bologna at him

Rick Gervais

I was young and dumb and working in the deli at a small local grocery store. There was this one customer, a belligerent drunk, who’s arrival would send the workers hiding to avoid contact with him. Unfortunately I was trapped behind the deli counter. This man irritated me so much that I took the bologna that I’d just sliced for him and threw it at him. He merely threw it back and left the store amid cheers and applause by clerks and customers alike. (Not really, but no one was sad to see him leave.)

I felt bad, but the store’s owner . . . assured me that by tomorrow the man wouldn’t remember it, and so don’t worry, he’ll be back. But that’s when I began to worry.

Bad debt; worse language

Sally Theriault, Rumford

A few years back I worked in the accounting office at Walmart. One day, a woman who had written a bad check to us came in to pay it. Mind you, this bad check had been on our books for a while. She was quite upset that Walmart was ruining her good credit since she was trying to buy a house and the bank wouldn’t loan her the money until she took care of this issue. She came in yelling, “Walmart is ****ing up my life!” (I’m sure you won’t be able to use that language in the newspaper, and you know I would never use it since I’m as pure as the driven snow). She kept yelling this out until I said, “Ma’am, we don’t use that kind of language at Walmart.” I then proceeded to walk back to my office to get her a receipt for her payment and said, under my breath, “B****.” Made me feel better anyway!

A haunted toaster oven

Lori D’Amico, Lewiston

I worked almost 15 years at Bradlees. I held a variety of positions, including cashier, layaway, customer service desk and supervisor, among others. One winter day I had this customer come in while I was supervising. I had an experienced girl on the service desk, so was quite surprised when she called me over asking if I could wait on the only customer she had (it was after Christmas and things had quieted down considerably). With a puzzled glance at my service desk co-worker, I said “Sure, no problem” and proceeded to go behind the service desk and ask the woman how I could help.

She stated she wanted to return the toaster oven she’d set on the counter. I asked, as was a matter of routine, if she wanted a refund or exchange. “Exchange, please,” she replied.

I then asked, “Is this one not the right item or is there a problem with it?”

She motioned me closer with her finger, lowered her voice to a whisper and said, “It’s possessed!” with an entirely serious expression.

“It’s POSSESSED?” I repeated incredulously?

She proceeded to tell me that it turned itself off and on, and it had no automatic shut off button, and that the temperature fluctuated at random. At that moment, I adopted a “Don’t ask, don’t tell” sort of policy for the remainder of the day anyway. With a smile I instructed her to go get another one and bring it to the desk for an exchange (as my co-worker is busting a gut behind the desk laughing this whole time!) and THEN had to fill out a damaged item tag for the warehouse folks.

Under “Reason for return” I wrote in quotes: “Customer states oven is POSSESSED. YOU figure it out!”

A loaded encounter

Douglas McIntire, Auburn

I was selling firearms at Walmart and on the phone with the feds doing a background check when a guy opened the box of a pellet rifle and began charging  at the counter with the muzzle pointed at my face . . . things got real from there.

Ice storm returns

Crystal Harnden, Auburn

I was working at BJ’s customer service desk during the ice storm. And we had people trying to return generators after they got their power back. We weren’t supposed to take them back once they had been filled with gasoline. And all of them (generators) sold had a card in the box saying don’t bring them back to the store, call the company instead.

And don’t get me started about the time that I worked customer service at the Sun Journal. In the 11 years that I was working, I’ve had more than one person make me cry.

A problem with fractions

Dot Chabot, Lewiston

I worked at Lane Bryant in Philly decades ago. When items were on sale we’d put hang tags over the hangers and a sign on top of the fixture. One lady was just beside herself, and lamented that she needed us to clarify whether the pants were 50 percent off or were they half off? Because the hang tags said “Save 50%,” but the sign on top of the rack said “Everything 1/2 off.”

Occupational hazard

Kalle Oakes, Monmouth

Wife is working at Fashion Bug in Lewiston back in the ’90s. Woman walks in the store. She accepts the offer to fill out a credit card application, but she’s visibly flustered and asks my wife to help. They get to the part where it says occupation.

“Call girl.”

Double take.

“You mean . . . you work in a call center?”

“No, call girl. You know, whore.”

Triple take.

“Why do you look surprised?” she says. “Some guys like the chunky ones too, honey.”

I think they finally agreed to write “Self employed.”

Screaming, sleaze and discount shirts: one young woman’s stories

Amber Lauze of Auburn has some retail stories to tell. In fact, she started out her note to us: “Oh boy, the retail stories I have.”

She’s currently at college in Cincinnati — where she says she avoids retail — but her experiences working in sales in the Twin Cities have been stored (pun intended) forever in her memory. 

With screaming shoppers, angry fathers and sexual harassment all part of the job, how could you forget?

‘. . . She threw it at me.’

Oh boy, the retail stories I have. I worked at (a local store) for a little over two years . . . . After making it through one year of work, I learned to be pretty stoic with the bad customers. I hadn’t been made to cry, I knew a few girls who had, but I felt like I was dealing with it pretty well.

I had a woman come into the store to pick up an online order. When someone picks up an order, we’re supposed to ask for the ID to confirm. I had asked her for her ID and she got livid. She started raising her voice, squinting her eyes and telling me that she didn’t have it on her; it was in the car. I asked her politely if she could go grab it while I went to get her package and she kept going (talking loudly). It was a quiet day so everyone in the department could hear her, but she ended up getting her ID while I went out back. I came back out front and one of my co-workers was behind the counter telling me she had left.

As we were talking, the woman had come back up and not even within 10 feet . . . started yelling, “I know you’re talking about me! I know it!”

I calmly told her, “She was letting me know you had left, and I informed her you were just getting your ID.” She proceeded to keep saying we were talking about her, and when I asked her for ID, she threw it at me. I told her, at this point getting frustrated, “Thank you.”

She spat back, “You’re not welcome!” I finished her order, confirmed the item, handed her the ID and receipt, and told her to have a good day. I got a “Hmmph!” back, and a break-room story.

An angry tale of two shirts

I had a customer approach me one evening to ask a question about pricing. He had one shirt that was on clearance and another that wasn’t. He asked me why the regular-priced one wasn’t on clearance as well. (A background on the shirts: They were both from the same brand, but both were different colors with different designs.) I informed him they were two different shirts.

He pulled out the inside tags to show me that a number, which means nothing to our systems, was similar on each shirt so they should be the same price. I tried to tell him that the number doesn’t mean anything and that if the shirt was on clearance our warehouse crew would have marked it.

This started an angry fight and he said, “Oh, so you’re blaming the warehouse staff? You did something wrong but it’s their faults. I want to speak with a manager.”

I told him “Of course,” called over a manager and asked if he would like me to check the other shirts. He told me, “I want you to mark them all as clearance like they should be,” and watched me as I walked from behind the counter to the shirt display. I slowly dug through the shirts to find the regular-priced shirt he was holding and moving them to the side pretending to look at prices. . . .

My manager showed up, the same argument was given, and the same answer I had provided was given. The man couldn’t believe what was happening and was causing this scene in front of the kids he brought with him for back-to-school shopping. He got even meaner with my manager, and I thought he was going to lose it. The man asked for another manager, so we called her over.

She gave him coupons and sent him on his way. He never bought either of the shirts he complained about.

‘He asked if I had a boyfriend.’

While I meet a lot of cool people working with the public, some that even went from customers to friends, it’s also very easy to run into stalkers or inappropriate customers who won’t leave you alone.

There was an instance in my first year at (the store) when I was 16 when a large group of men came in. It was close to closing and we were almost empty so I left my partner in the department while I ran around to drop clothes off in other departments. As I passed the group I gave the mandatory, “Hi! How are you today?”

They replied back with a hello, and one asked how about me. I told him good and continued on my way. A few steps past the group I noticed that one of the men was following me. He asked what I was doing, I told him. He asked if he could help. I politely said sure. He said I was looking really good tonight. I politely said thank you. He asked if I had a boyfriend, I knew it was time to get out. I thanked him for his help, but told him I would handle the rest of it from here, with a laugh and a smile, forever the polite retail worker. I hurried away and he kept pace just behind me.

For the next 30 minutes he followed me through the store asking me, “Do you have a boyfriend?” I told him yes (I didn’t). “Do you have a husband?” I told him I was too young. He said it didn’t matter and told me he wanted to take me back (home) with him. I mentioned that his friends were probably looking for him. He said he didn’t care, he could find them later.

Between the questions and short answers he would whisper crude, vulgar, inappropriate and frightening things about my body, what he liked and what he would do to me. As I was trying to find my partner to tell them I would be heading out back until he left, he told me he wanted to cash out. It was a sigh of relief. Or I thought so.

I checked him out. He asked for my number. I told him no, it was OK, I didn’t like giving it out. He kept asking. I mentioned his friends must have left since we closed. He wouldn’t walk away. I had the counter between us now, but I wanted him gone. I printed some receipt paper and put my phone number on it with one digit off. He took it slowly and walked away.

When I reported what happened to my manager, she told me, “Oh (a co-worker in another department) complained about the same thing with him earlier.” I couldn’t believe that someone had complained about that man earlier and they didn’t do anything. She told me they would get security to look for him. I told her it didn’t matter, he was already gone.

Huffy about huskies: a harbinger

My very first day on the floor, bushy-eyed and fresh from training, a woman asked me where the boy’s husky sizes. I had never known that boy’s plus was called husky, I thought it was a brand name. I told her I wasn’t sure, I was brand new, and pointed at my “New Team Member!” tag. I told her it was my first day, but I would ask one of the associates behind me for her; they would know. She yelled about me not knowing anything, yelled at me, then left the store. If anything was a foreshadow warning about what my life in retail was going to be, that was it.