Daily Archives: April 7th, 2008

Decided to get back in the swing of this “blogging” thing.  I put up 2 of my very first posts that I never published on here; just gives you something to read while I find new shite to write.  Holla!

HCO

10 More Things I Hate about Customers

Thats right kiddies, I’ve finally gotten myself motivated enough to sit down and think for an hour. I was pretty pleased with the feedback and outcome of the first 10, and these will be just as familiar, just as funny, just as likely to make you say “fuck you, Hollister shoppers.”

Before I begin, I just want to let you all know that I saw a celebrity in Atlanta on Friday. Kristin and I were driving downtown, returning from the park, when I saw a not-so-rare sight in Atlanta: a Bentley. However, there were 2 rare things about it. One, it was gold. Two, it had Lil Jon in the driver’s seat. All I could see was big, white sunglasses, dreads and a grill so bright my eyes hurt. Yeayah!

Question: Why am I so cynical and angry? I’m not, go fuck yourself.

Okay you know the drill. I give an example of what a customer does, then I give the response I wish I could give or will give during my last 2 weeks of working. Get your stitches ready, here comes funny.

1) CUSTOMER: Trying on a size small shirt…when you’re obviously hefty.
MY RESPONSE: You little kids are cute with your baby fat. Or maybe you’re just so fat it looks like you’re about to have a baby. Either way, I dont like to see Play-Do squeezing out the sides of your shirt. It’s obviously way too small, because you’re the fat one in the group. You came in with 3 other girls who wear size 0 jeans and extra small shirts. They’re shallow,
immature bitches so they keep you around because it makes them feel “less fat.” Listen to me, fat girl, dont fall for it. You’re going to be the one who gets way hot later and they’ll end up stuck in redneck land with anorexia, a few kids and a mean itchy crotch. Of course I could be wrong, and you’ll be fat forever.

2) CUSTOMER: Its so loud in here.
MY RESPONSE: Similar to it being too dark in the store. I like not being able to hear myself think for 10 straight hours because it partially blocks having to listen to your bitching. You should stand in the corners of the store, its like being hit by a wave of bass. If you shake your ass, you will be kicked out. The reason the music is loud is because it creates our atmosphere. You walked up the stairs and suddenly you’re in California, where apparently they have oscillating fans in the store, use wood so dark you cant see your feet and play music loud enough to cause a brain anuerysm. If you want to shop in peace, shop online. That way you wont be annoying me, and I wont have to listen to you talk on your cell phone about how you cant hear.

3) CUSTOMER: Tries to return worn clothes or unworn clothes that smell like smoke.
MY RESPONSE: You fucking idiot. Read the back of the receipt; it clearly states you cant return worn merchandise. Allow me to elaborate: IF YOU’VE WORN IT, YOU CANT RETURN IT. I wont return it if I cant resell it. The only exception is, of course, if its faulty merch. Such as bad stitching, rips in the seams or buttons coming off after you rip off the shirt. Dont strip our clothes off if you want to return it. I hate turning people away because their brand new clothes smell like smoke. I feel sorry for them because they’re such weak people they have to rely on a vice like smoking. I like healthy, challenging vices; like video games and Just the Tip. You’ve had this shirt for a whole 30 hours? And it smells like you put it on top of your chimney? Why are you so stupid? Of course I wont return it. Anyone who buys this shirt will get lung cancer instantly, and they’ll have to talk using one of those buzzing devices on their throats. Actually that would be kind of cool. But no, you’re stuck with a smelly shirt that doesnt fit and my bad attitude telling you to get the fuck out.

4) CUSTOMER: After being rude to me, customer wants to speak to the manager.
MY RESPONSE: Oooh boy, I love this one. You want to talk to the manager? I’m the manager, bitch (not the only manager, Feske). You should see their faces; its like they just shit in their pants. Because of me. And their reaction: “…YOU’RE the manager?” I wish I had a camera somewhere in the store. I’d just sit back there and watch the reruns of all
the times I’ve made customers’ brains explode. Why is it so tough to believe that I’m the manager? Because I’m so young and sexy? Because I have the bedside manner of a rabid dog with his balls in a kung-fu grip? Because I’m fresh out of college and you’re still at Shop-Rite with your fancy GED? What I understand less is that they continue to argue with me, as if the more they piss me off, the more likely it is they’ll get something. I’m not trying to be a dick, but I’m working within my rules people. And yes, even I am bound by rules.

5) CUSTOMER: Attempts to fold our clothes after butt-fucking an entire table.
MY RESPONSE: Dont. Just stop. You arent expertly trained. I know, I know, I bitch plenty about how you fuck things up, and it would seem logical that I would want you to fix it, but I dont. I dont want you to attempt to fold our clothes so that it looks like you werent there because you will never get it right. I would prefer it if you just never touched anything in the first
place. Actually I’m generalizing here. I’m assuming those who attempt to fold it do so in a way that matches our style. Some people just blatantly fold the fucking shirt completely and obviously incorrect. I like to be beside these people so I can instantly snatch it up right in front of them and show them how its done. Eat that, soccer mom. And while you’re at it, try my
denim cock.

6) CUSTOMER: Has various reactions to our humor tees, whether good or bad.
MY RESPONSE: I know they’re so fucking funny, but do you seriously have to touch every shirt? Shopping online is so much easier because I dont have to look at you and hate you from far away. Rednecks are the best, because they think all the little jokes about penises are soooo goddamn funny. Ha. Ha. Ha. It makes an obvious innuendo about a penis, and if I wear it then people will think that its an obvious innuendo that I’m trying to make about my penis. If I wear it to school (elementary school) then everyone will think my shirt is funny. Because it talks about a penis. PS I’m 22-years old.

And then there’s the conservatives, who are appalled by our shirts. They’re too dirty they say. I have yet to encounter a customer (usually they’re women) who wants to make a complaint about it, but I see the churchy mothers all the time. They make the face that looks like someone just jizzed in their hair. Eeeww. Trouble is, I usually side with these ladies. Most of
our “humor” tees are pretty fucking stupid. Cassive Mock. Please Come Again. May I Come Inside? Bring Her Too. Lets Fuck. Okay I made the last one up. Might as well say that though, no use dancing around the penis.

7) CUSTOMER: While shopping, leaves his/her Coke/latte/mochafrappafuckingchino/burrito on a table.
MY RESPONSE: Does this look like fucking BFI? We arent the trash can you blind, poor fuckstick. There are trash receptacles EVERYWHERE in the mall. How odd that a pile of clothes makes you think of trash and not an acutal trash can. This probably has a lot to do with your trailer being so disgustingly filthy. Hm trash can does not mean trash, but a pile of clothes does. Get a Dyson and some Wipe-All. Why ruin my day with your bullshit? I already have enough on my mind (just read my other blogs, Jesus Christ). Everytime I find a cup with a wet ring on the bottom of it I just want to chuck it at the stupid, big-haired lady who left it there. Like you need caffeine, you’re probably still high from the line of cocaine you just did off your husband’s mustache. All hail the Earnhardt followers, for their mustaches are wise.

8) CUSTOMER: Little punk hoodlum kids come in and cause problems.
MY RESPONSE: This is one of my favorites. I love it when a group of emo-fuck kids comes in and uses our store as a playground. It doesnt even look like a playground. Haha, they have mannequins! Lets dance with them to the beat of this stupid, depressing music that we listen to! Lets go around to every room and dance, then we’ll pick 40 songs that no one likes, then we’ll reverse the expansion of the universe with our ridiculously stupid haircuts. I swear to God, the hair on these kids is worse than those African cultures who shave words into their hair (there isnt one). Long and straight all around, but short enough on top so that I can put a little spit in it and it will stick straight up. Whats the reason for this? Are these kids not getting enough attention? There are so many of them by this point that they should all be focusing on eachother instead of normal society around them. Plus they have their own depressing genre of music that literally no one else listens to. And once a newer band comes along they even overthrow their previous Gods (Good Charlotte, New Found Glory, and the newest victim, Fall Out Boy). So what does that tell you? The life expectancy of this fucked up generation of emotional, girl jeans wearing, “why cant I be happy,” bullshit turd-smugglers is (hopefully) 23 years. With that shitty number of years, the chance that they actually spawn off children is unlikely unless they abandon all morals, such as marriage, then we’re all fucked. Fucking emo-fuck kids. You arent original, and I hate you.

9) CUSTOMER: Wears sunglasses inside.
MY RESPONSE: Wtf. I seriously dont understand this. Not only are you inside a mall where there is no feasible substitute for the sun, but you’re inside Hollister, where we have taken every action to make sure you would never be able to tell what time of day it is outside. I seriously think that if you wear sunglasses in our store, you’re likely blind. I cant remember ever seeing anyone walking in with a seeing eye dog or a walking cane though. No one in Hollister thinks you’re cool (we’re the coolest fucking people in the mall anyway), and I’m certain no one in the mall is going to think anything except that you’re a fucking idiot. On top of that you’re making the lady who sells sunglasses sad because she knows she wont get your business. Lets go over the possible reasons to wear sunglasses inside. 1: you’re blind. 2: you’re a pervert and you want to stare at girls without their knowledge. 3: you’re blind. Those 3 reasons are scientific facts. I’ll add my own for a fourth. 4: you’re a fucking douche bag. Try protecting your eyes from that.

10) CUSTOMER: Walking so damn slow when I’m in a hurry behind you, or stopping in the middle of the walkway.
MY RESPONSE: AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY WAY. This is the most annoying thing on earth. I hate this more than I hate rednecks. Well, dont let me get carried away. The phone is ringing, I’m hustling myself trying to get to it quickly, you’re in front of me with a few of your kin, you’re walking half a step every 3 seconds. I’m about a microsecond away from shoving you over so you land on your fat face, then stepping on your back while roundhouse kicking all your family members in the jaw. Sometimes I brush by too close on purpose so you’ll realize how fucking turtle-like you’re being. I think I brushed too hard once and knocked the clothes out of someone’s hand. Thats what you get for stopping every 2 feet. If you have something to say, say it to my fist because I dont want to have to use my newly polished attitude on you. I’d rather use force and make you bleed. Whats worse is most of these people (as is the case in the US) are terribly overweight and even if they do move to one side I cant squeeze past them without their living fat cells globbing out trying to grab me and suck me into their fatty abyss. You’ve got to be pretty fucking fat for me, a skinny bean pole fuckface, to not be able to squeeze by. Maybe you should transfer your daily mall exercise to a treadmill where there is unlimited walking space for you to hopefully burn away at least half of the people you have imprisoned inside you, you fat, alien, morphing bloodsucker! Whoa I went overboard on the alien element.

Thats the 10 I have for now. Its possible that I’ve nearly exhausted my capacity for hate for my customers. As a result, my next project will be a list of things I hate about my employees. Stay tuned so you can find what I hate about you so you can immediately fix it. Or kill yourself.

This blog is of my own opinion and is not the opinion of Hollister or any of its affiliates. Besides, if you’re offended by anything I said here you should probably change your opinion so that it matches mine, then we wont have this problem.

HCO

10 Things I Hate About Customers (or as many I can think of)

This will be more than 10. The title fits though. Kids, these blogs dont just fart out of my brain. They’re chronicles of real events, real stupid customers, real rednecks. As a result, they dont really come every day, just when I have enough material. Deal with it or you’ll be dealt with.

You people. I’m all about customer service. I’ll even smile. But I’m not here to kiss your ass. I’m not here to give you free shit or discounts. This isnt Cingular, where you can bitch your way out of 4000 overtime minutes. One thing I can give you is a swift kick to the pants. I can also ruin your day and have you talking to your family about that “fucking asshole” at dinner. Welcome to Hollister.

The elite who work at Hollister deal with all sorts of customers. Happy, sad, indifferent, angry, moody, slutty. We also have unique gripes that we get only at our stores. I’m going to make a list of the ones that stand out in my mind the most, followed by the response I wish I could give. This list is not exhaustive, and its in no particular order except from funny to funny.

1) CUSTOMER: Do you work here?
MY RESPONSE: No lady, I went through a time machine and wound up in the stockroom of this place wearing these strange “Hollister” clothes. I figured this door would get me out, but instead I ran into you. Also I’m from the future, and I’m here to kill John Connor.

2) CUSTOMER: Its too dark in here.
MY RESPONSE: Bring a flashlight. Did you major in whining? Who gripes to the employees of a store about the electrical situation? Fuck you and fuck lights.

3) CUSTOMER: You dont have my size in this shirt, I want the one off the mannequin.
MY RESPONSE: No.

4) CUSTOMER: Someone who’s just been very rude is now asking to return something shifty/wants a size/wants some sort of help.
MY RESPONSE: Sure, I can help you find the fucking door. Where do these people get off? Y’know, I probably have 10 of that size in the stock room, or I could easily exchange that item (or refund your cash, I’m that powerful), but why the hell would I do that when you’re so bent on being a bitch? This is the equivalent to pissing off your server at a restaurant: he’s very powerful in the fact that he can shit in your food, and you’d eat it unknowingly. You just pissed off the head douche; welcome to not getting anything accomplished that you came here to do today.

5) CUSTOMER: Messes up every single shirt in an entire stack of identical shirts. These customers are usually Asian (thanks K).
MY RESPONSE: Uh, wtf? Why the fuck are you unfolding every motherfucking shirt? Its not like one shirt will magically jump on you and say “PICK ME BITCH!” What do you think the fucking size stickers are there for? So you dont have to get hated on. I’m rude enough to where I’ll come up and say something to you. Something that’s a mix of part customer service, part “what the fuck are you doing you stupid ching chong?”
PS I’m Asian so I can say what ever the fuck I want.

6) CUSTOMER: Someone gets too close to the front door with a shirt and the alarm goes off. Customer does not move, and it continues to go off, annoying everyone in sight.
MY RESPONSE: GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM THE DOOR YOU STUPID EMO-FUCK KID! I know your generation (a generation I’ve recently dubbed “Genergy” or “Gen Energy,” ask me why) was born with earplugs in your ears and your asshole, but its common fucking sense to move away from the bad noise so that it will stop. My dog knows better, and thats sad. My dog knows better than an emo-fuck kid.

7) CUSTOMER: Bitching about the bulges on the forms.
MY RESPONSE: You kids know this one well enough. Let me elaborate. Lady (its usually a lady that bitches, find out my theory why in a second) I could really care less that you and Jesus find the fake crotch on our forms offensive. First, they’re not real humans, and you can tell that because they have impossible muscle structure, they stand in the same back-breaking positions for eternity, their arms are attatched by magnets and they have NO FUCKING HEADS. Second, this store sells sex. Look at our posters (marketing to the Hollister savvy); these kids just flew to this beach for a photoshoot after leaving a porn film shoot. I swear the girls still have jizz in their ears. Lastly, I know you’re jealous that your husband’s bulge isnt as big, nor does he have perfect pectorials, but thats no reason to come in my store and gripe about a little bit of skin. Fake, plastic skin at that. Get a clue and realize that sex isnt the thing hurting your children, its your lack of interaction/knowledge/discipline/molestation. Minus the last one.

8) CUSTOMER: Brings in a shirt with a sensor on it and wants us to remove the sensor. Customer has no receipt.
MY REPONSE: Is this not common fucking sense? Yeah, I realize it’s probably our fault the sensor wasnt removed. Our fault because you were such a douchebag at the counter you scared our brand reps, who promptly forgot. I dont care how domestic you are, with your pregnant wife, who is in awe that I’m the manager. I dont care that you drove 20 minutes to get here and that you have to drive 20 minutes back to get the receipt. No you will not get anything extra for being a dumbass. I wont give you a discount. I wont give you a gift card. I wont show you how to take it off yourself. People like this made me who I am. Learn to add life: (shirt sensor) – receipt = JACK SHIT.

9) CUSTOMER: Leaving your 5 (or 50, depending on what you know about your job) items in the fitting room.
MY RESPONSE: Yes, its my job to fold your mess and clean up after you like children. However, have the common courtesy to bring your shit that you dont want with you when you’re finished with it. Its a retail clothing store, not your mom’s house. I swear to God I’m going to get hostile and start throwing clothes at these stuck up bitches. Clothes with golf balls hidden in them.

10) CUSTOMER: Redneck MILF-wanna be fucks up an entire room by herself. The intent to buy is there, but never follows through.
MY RESPONSE: These rich bitches get on my last nerve. Okay, so you’re 40 and still kinda hot. I give credit to the plastic surgeon who payed too much attention to your boobs and forgot about your hips. The point is, you arent Jesus’ mom, and you cant do whatever you want in here. We have rules too. Rule #1: Dont piss of the management (we’re angry people). After destroying the store, what happens next? Redneck hubby gets beeped on the NexTel to come get her. He’s got to peel himself from the TV, watching NASCAR no doubt, come to the mall and club his hick wife over the head with a camshaft and drag her home in the Camaro. And after all that “shopping” all she bought was a wifebeater. Ironic, yet predictable.

Well thats 10 for now to hold you over kids. I’ve got 12 more worth putting up that I’ll be working on soon. And by “soon” I mean whenever the fuck I feel like thinking for 60 minutes in a row.

DISCLAIMER: These 10 events are completely fabricated by my brain and are of my own opinion about the amazing (read: stupid) customers that come into our mall. If you’re offended, dont sue Hollister, sue yourself for having a mind the size of a herpes virus.