Unfortunately, good customer service is never guaranteed. These customers share the horrible shopping experiences that made them say, ‘I will never return to this store AGAIN.’ Content has been edited for clarity purposes.
Size Shouldn’t Matter
“This had to have been over 25 years ago because I was a very large person. I went into Victoria’s Secret to look for a gift for someone.
As I was browsing, an employee approached me and said, ‘Sorry, we don’t carry your size.’
Well, maybe she thought I was looking for size 4XL or 54DD bras, which I knew they didn’t have. Or maybe she thought if other people saw a very large woman shopping there, the store would lose business. Either way, they lost a sale that day and any business I might have brought them ever since. I haven’t set foot in one of their stores since then, and I have no plans to ever do so again.
Salespeople, take note: some people buy gifts for others. And a fat person’s money is the same value as anyone else’s.”
“It Is Company Policy”
“I was shopping for an outfit for my brother’s wedding 15 years ago. I tried it on and it fit perfectly. I went to pay for it, but the employee stopped me.
She said, ‘I can’t sell these to you. The top is a medium and the pants are a small.’
I told her, ‘Well, I did not switch them around. Someone else must have done so.’
The old hag didn’t take my word for it and decided she had to check the changing room herself. When she didn’t find anything there, she had to go over where those outfits were. Even though she didn’t find anything there, she still wouldn’t sell it to me.
In the meantime, the line behind me was getting longer since she was the only cashier.
I asked her again, ‘Why can’t you sell it to me? It’s blatantly obvious that somehow the small top and medium pants managed to get out of the store unnoticed.’
She said, ‘It is company policy.’
I said, ‘I will be calling the corporate office about this! I will also put in a complaint as this is ridiculous! I’m pretty sure it isn’t company policy but just your policy.’
I also said it loudly for those in line to hear.
I continued, ‘I will not be shopping at this store ever again! You will be getting a bad review from me! I will be telling my family, friends and neighbors not to shop here anymore as well after the treatment I just received from you!’
I did notice how a couple of people who had been standing in line did leave as I was sure they thought the whole thing was nonsense too.
Anyway, I did call the corporate office. They said it was not company policy, but it might have just been that store’s policy. I told him it most likely wasn’t because somehow the opposite of what I wanted managed to get out the door. The corporate office sent me a gift certificate even though I told them I would never step foot in that company again. And I never have since.
It sucked being treated like that in front of others, especially since I did nothing wrong. The old wench didn’t believe me because she thought I was younger than I actually was.”
“Somebody Followed Me Every Step”
“This happened in Camden, Arkansas, during the summer of 1977. I was twelve years old, and my grandfather dropped me off at the Western Auto store downtown. I walked around inside the store, and somebody followed me every step of the way. Every time I picked up an item, he’d take it away and put it back on the shelf. I finally asked him a question about a CB radio.
His reply, ‘Don’t waste my time, you can’t afford it.’
When my grandfather returned, I was sitting at the curb, trying not to cry. He asked what was wrong, and I told him I’d been treated like a thief. Grandpa marched into the store and asked why they’d treated me that way.
Ed Falwell, the owner of the store, said, ‘As far as I’m concerned, every person who walks through those doors is a thief. Besides,’ he said, pointing at me, ‘He doesn’t have any money. He wasn’t going to buy anything.’
Grandpa looked at me, knowing the answer, and asked if I had any money.
At that point, I reached into my pocket and pulled out the hundred-dollar bill I had. It was my birthday money from my father.
Grandpa had bought plenty at that store through the years, from tires to appliances. He told Mr. Falwell that he’d never get another dime from him.
I never set foot in that store again, including when they had their liquidation sale before going out of business, several years later. Mr. Falwell was dead, but his son, the one who shadowed me through the store that day, still owned it.”
“I Looked At The Bill And Laughed”
“In 2006, my family got together to visit Ground Zero. After a very intense and emotional afternoon, we went to a restaurant in lower Manhattan for dinner. The reviews were good and it was fairly easy to get to. Part of our reasoning was we were already parked and with four families, it would be a task to get to our vehicles, put the young ones in, drive uptown, and find parking to go to the other restaurant.
I called to ask about reservations and let them know we had 11 people. I offered to provide my credit card to ensure my reservation. I was told that wouldn’t be necessary and while they didn’t accept reservations, they could accommodate us in 45 minutes.
That was not a problem. We stopped at a local bar to get a few drinks and use the restroom. We arrived at the restaurant about 10 minutes before the 45 minutes that I was told. Someone came out of the kitchen and asked if they could help. I explained how I had called and was told they didn’t accept reservations. I informed them I knew that and was told they would be able to accommodate us at the time we were there.
We waited about 20 minutes and saw groups come in after us. When I questioned why they had sat a six-top and a four-top before us, the answer didn’t make sense. We discussed leaving and going to another place when a waiter told me he was clearing a table and we could sit in a few minutes.
We sat down and began to look at the menu. I ordered a few bottles of Moscato, and several other drinks, along with four appetizers. The drinks came out in a timely manner. The waiter told the table he would be back in a few minutes.
The appetizers had not arrived yet and we have been seated for more than 30 minutes. The tables around us were being taken care of and one table had its entrees before we got our apps. When I ordered more drinks, I told the waiter we were ready to order. So he took our order and placed the order on the computer.
About 20 minutes went by, he came back to tell us that four different entrees were not available. So the people made other selections. Our second round of drinks still hadn’t arrived.
The food finally came out almost two hours after being seated. I waited another 15 minutes for our drinks, but still nothing. So I got up to speak to the manager or owner. I was then told how someone would come to the table.
We decided to skip dessert and the after-dinner drinks. We didn’t want to spend another 60 to 90 minutes. So I asked for the check. This is where I looked at the bill and laughed.
I then asked, ‘Can I speak with someone in charge?’
A few minutes later, a gentleman who dressed as if he were relaxing poolside, came over. He was wearing a T-shirt with a ‘Yellowstone’ logo, shorts that had a large black stain maybe from a driveway sealer, and flip-flops.
I calmly pointed out how the check had numerous errors, ‘We ordered four apps, not six. We didn’t order soups. Also, the four entrees that were not available were not taken off the bill. And the additional substitution items totaled five. Now we did get our second round of drinks but charged for three additional bottles at a higher price. The last item was a couple of cups of coffee and one dessert. We didn’t have either.’
I quickly realized how the overcharge was more than 300 dollars. Finally, the mandatory 22 percent gratuity was added but it included the tax. I further explained my issues and informed him how I was completely dissatisfied.
I said, ‘No one came to check and see if everything was ok.’
I told the family to go on their way home while I waited and waited. Nothing was being done. I added up everything we had including the tax and then handed my credit card to a server and told her to run the charge for $1521.76.
I signed the receipt and wrote ‘NO Credit Card Tip. Cash left.’
Then I dropped three bucks with a note explaining everything in detail as to why he didn’t get a 400-dollar tip.
The worse service I ever had. My family works or have worked in the industry and we were angry and disappointed. My son at the time was a chef, and my daughter was a server. My son-in-law was a bartender and line cook. The friends were both cooks.
Everyone was left bewildered.”
“I Can’t Come In With My Purse?”
“There is a dollar-type store in my town that I love because there is always something new and you never know what you will find. I have found some great things here for next to nothing. Most of the people who work there are OK, nothing great, but not too bad. At some point, I guess they had been having issues with shoplifting so they hired a security guard. You already had to leave any shopping bags or backpacks at the door. All I had was a small cross-body purse. Something very small. Really, just big enough for my phone, my wallet, and my keys.
So when I went to walk in the store, the security guard stopped me.
He said, ‘You have to your bag.’
I said, ‘What?! This is my purse. I have my phone and my wallet here. I am NOT leaving it.’
So he said, ‘You can take your wallet and phone out and carry them in your hands.’
I said, ‘Um, no. I don´t think so.’
The shelf where you left your bags was not behind a counter or anything. It was out in the open. There was even a sign-up that said they were only responsible for a loss of $5 or something like that.
So I went to the manager and complained.
She also said, ‘Sorry, but the security guard is just doing his job.’
I said, ‘So now we can´t come in with a purse? I am NOT leaving my purse anywhere.’
It was a designer bag, so, yeah, not happening. So I left and called corporate.
The very next day I got a call with an apology, and that the security guard was out of line and was going to be given additional training. But, I didn´t go back for years. After a while, they got rid of the security guard and I started going again.”
This Question Made The Tailor Snap
“Our two family sofas were looking a bit aged, probably not surprising given that our young son often used them as trampolines. My wife found the sofas an eyesore but was equally unwilling to give up on their well-worn comfort. We decided to compromise and have them reupholstered. A friend of ours gave us a recommendation for someone she had used.
Following her directions, we arrived in a part of town I was unfamiliar with. Walking up a darkened stairwell, we made our way into an equally gloomy but spacious room. Sitting in one corner was a less than middle-aged prototypical-looking tailor with a pencil neatly tucked behind his left ear. He seemed more surprised to see us than we to him, but he quickly rose from his seat and drifted over.
When we outlined our needs and reference, his dour expression changed into a wide smile. He pulled up two frayed plastic chairs and welcomed us both into them. My wife outlined a long-ish list of needs to our attentive host. Nodding his understanding, he went and pulled out five or six hefty three-ring binders and brought them to us. Each of these was heavier than two babies, and they held swatches of cloth for us to see, feel and (hopefully) ultimately choose as the next outfit for our sofas.
I usually dislike such excursions but my wife went through each binder as if studying for a medical exam. She shortlisted a few for my opinion, but since I usually like her taste, I quickly assented.
I mistakenly assumed that we were near concluding the deal, and expectantly started the motions of paying. But I was very wrong. Nothing had been decided yet. Another set of binders appeared. By now my wife and the tailor were intently exploring and debating each page, leaving me to loiter around the store, periodically looking at my watch as if it could speed up the process.
The store seemed to have unlimited supplies of cloth, some half-dressed sofas, and yards of cloth spread all around. The curtains were tightly drawn, perhaps our tailor was averse to the sun. With the meager light available, I could tell the room was full of items, but these held little interest to me.
I was interrupted from my thought train by the sounds of curtain rings scraping over rods as the sunlight was finally permitted to enter this formerly forbidden realm. Apparently, my wife and the tailor had graduated to Stage Two of the process, where pieces of cloth would be more closely appraised under natural light. As we had already been there for almost 2 hours, I didn’t think we had much daylight left to work with.
After some back-and-forth, my wife brought a singular piece of cloth to my attention. It looked like any other cream-colored piece of cloth but was reminded that it was the shade of slightly aged ivory. Behind her, the tailor stood with arms folded, smiling his approval.
The smell of deal closure was in the air. Just a few last details to iron out regarding monetary amounts, delivery time, etc. My wallet nestled in my hand waiting for its moment.
Then it happened.
My wife asked reasonably, ‘What if we don’t like the work you’ve done?’
He responded, ‘You will like it. All my customers are satisfied with my work. Just like the friend who sent you to me.’
She persisted. After all, we were paying a significant amount and she wanted some assurance that we wouldn’t regret the outcome.
She said, ‘Yes, but what if the workmanship wasn’t good, and we weren’t happy?’
All the man had to do was repeat what he had said and everyone would be satisfied. Simple, right?
Instead, a flood of hot blood kicked in for him with a dash of wounded professional pride. This man who had been the picture of monk-like patience, professionalism, and pleasantry throughout, snapped.
He said, ‘Well if you don’t trust my work, then you go elsewhere.’
My wife’s now icy expression told me all. This tailor was done. All that time spent for a potential sale of a few thousand dollars was Poof! Gone. Vanished, like a bat at daybreak.
The clueless gentleman stood there rather glaring at her, arms folded defiantly. The stuffy room chilled with my wife’s response.
She said, ‘Yes, I think we will go elsewhere. Thank you so much for your advice.’
Realizing he had gone too far or maybe not caring anymore, he waved us off dismissively and began picking through the debris of binders scattered all over the carpet, the wasted fruit of his labor. And for what? The momentary satisfaction of sounding off on a customer?
The guaranteed and fastest way to fail a sale is to lose your cool. Regardless of how much goodwill you have built up beforehand.”
Did He Really Take The Kids’ Dinner?
“After an hour or so of shopping at Costco in the afternoon, we grabbed a Rotisserie chicken so I didn’t have to cook when I got done. Those chickens are good.
We waited in line for about 15 minutes before finally being checked out and making our way to the exit.
If you’ve never been to Costco, they check your receipt against the items in your cart to be sure that all items were paid for. I guess there must be a lot of theft for them to pay two people all opening hours to stand there and check.
When the person checked our cart, they discovered the chicken wasn’t paid for. So they took it. I was surprised it wasn’t paid for as I expected the checker to get everything in the cart, but when I looked at the receipt, it wasn’t there.
I pointed to my kids and told him, ‘You are taking their dinner. What am I supposed to do?’
The guy had the audacity to tell me to go wait in line again to pay for it.
I said, ‘That will take another 15 minutes. I have fish and other perishables that need to be refrigerated.’
I said, ‘You can take my kids’ dinner and shove it up your butt!’
Then I left, clearly upset.
I followed up the next day with a letter to management explaining the situation. To their credit, they were horrified at my experience and, not only gave me a voucher for a free chicken but immediately set new rules in place. If an item was missed by the checker, it could be taken to customer service (near the exit) and have priority to pay for the item.
“There was a convenience store owner that made me feel like human garbage. I was standing in line with a cold slushy in my hand. She was dealing with one of her suppliers for what seemed like a few minutes.
When she was done with him, I walked up and set my drink on the counter. I accidentally set it down too hard, causing some of the contents to splash onto her blouse. The woman in question started yelling and complaining about how the blouse would have to be dry cleaned. She definitely was not a happy camper. Her reaction shook me up so much that I was speechless.
At this point, she started calling me stupid because I wasn’t trying to defend myself. I paid quietly and walked out.
I should explain how I have autism, and I just got overwhelmed. It wasn’t a lack of intelligence that caused me to be unable to respond to her.
A few seconds after I got out the door, I suddenly grew a pair.
I walked back in, handed her ten dollars, and told her, very clearly, ‘I will never return to your store again.’
She responded, ‘That is fine with me.’
I walked out again, waited a few seconds, and started crying.
I understand how I inconvenienced her, and it would cost a few dollars to get her blouse cleaned, but she was clearly more out of line than I was. She should have pieced together how I didn’t mean to mess up her blouse. Maybe I was negligent, but my actions were clearly unintentional.
Another problem was her choice of attire. Mishaps happen in convenience stores all the time. Why she’d choose to wear something that requires dry cleaning is truly beyond me. She is also very narrow-minded. Why did she automatically assume I had a mental problem?
I hope she has to answer for the way she treated me when it’s her turn at the pearly gates.”
“I walked into a dollar store and after walking to the area to get what I wanted and then up to the cashier station to check out, I was told I had to leave the store as I was not wearing a mask. I could not be assisted for this reason but I could purchase a bandana for $3, so I could go shopping.
I said, ‘I can go shop for a bandana, but not what I originally came for?’
They said, ‘Yup.’
So I could shop for one thing and pay for it before I could shop for another. ‘Hmm,’ I thought, ‘Ok, forget this.’
All the signs they had in their windows were created not by corporate nor sent to them by corporate, but by the manager within the store.
They told me this was by order of the local police department but couldn’t provide the statute number nor anything regarding this matter. Then they stated it was also company policy and regulation during the global crisis.
The following weekend my wife, father-in-law, and nephew went to a city and went to another store with the same name as the one within the area where I lived. I noticed four kids going in without masks on and no one said anything about needing masks within the store.
So I then contacted the corp office within an email and complained about the first store and sent the address and location. I exclaimed I would never return for any reason.
It has been now nearly 18 months since I have been in that store and I will not step foot in that specific store nor any store within the same corp governing. Needless to say, the first store was written up by the corp office and required to remove all signage from its windows including the one about being a city ordinance (which it was not nor even is today and never was during the entire time). My wife has asked me to take her there, I will drive her there, but she goes in alone. She fully understands my stand on this.”
They Thought They Could Be Rude To Kids
“When I was around 10, I lived in an apartment complex in Queens, New York. There were stores across the street that my friend and I would go to and get snacks. There was this mom-and-pop store that we went to and I couldn’t figure out what to get.
So the lady started yelling at me, ‘Hurry up and choose something!’
I was a crybaby at the time so I just ran out of the store crying. We then went to a different store nearby to get something.
Later on, I told my friend’s mom what happened. So she went in and yelled at them for being mean to me.
Anyways, I never went to that store again because of it. Apparently, a bunch of kids stole from them once, so they thought to be rude to every kid that went in the store.”