Letters to People I Hate

Dear Laziest Customer I’ve Ever Seen,

Let me start by saying that to earn the right to be addressed as such is quite a feat. I’ve worked in retail for six years now, and I’ve seen some lazy people. I’ve seen heavyset women run to the motorized cart we keep in our store for the infirm and the elderly, then drive it around the store instead of walking. I’ve seen people stuff perishable items into the rows of candy bars in front of the cash registers because they don’t want to walk back to the refrigerated section (or, God forbid, inform the check-out girl that they’ve changed their mind on an item.) But you are the laziest customer of them all.

You and I are already not fond of each other. Well, I am not fond of you. And if you hold a grudge, which I suspect you would (if your brain has the capacity to remember back a few months, which I suspect it doesn’t) then you aren’t fond of me either. We had a tiff this past summer when I told you your two-year-old son couldn’t walk around the store without shoes on. You looked at me as if I had just told you everything in the store cost a million dollars.

“What? Why the hell not?”

“It’s for safety reasons, sir.”

You glared at me like I was the most horrible bitch imaginable, and deposited your poor, dirty-faced little boy into the shopping cart. He started to scream and you gave me a look that said, There, hope you’re happy.

Then, I wanted to punch you in the face for three reasons:

1. Because you are obviously an incompetent parent who has not disciplined their child enough to sit in a shopping cart without screaming.
2. Because you obviously could care less if your little boy steps on a shard of hazardous debris and hurts himself and
3. Because I could just tell that you’re an asshole. Months later, you would prove me right yet again.

Fast forward to the present. This evening. You and your wife, or girlfriend, or sister (or whatever female you could con into going out in public with you) came into the store and I was disappointed to see that you have added a third child to your brood. The woman pushed your two dirty-faced little boys in one cart and you pushed another cart with the baby carrier balanced on the toddler seat. I greeted you politely, as I do all customers. You didn’t even look at me. Maybe you can hold a grudge.

I rang up customers for awhile, and then there was a lull. I noticed you and your family in Aisle 3, the candy and baking supplies aisle. I saw you grab a three-pack of Dentyne Ice chewing gum from the top shelf. You looked at it for a brief second before it slipped out of your hand. It fell to the tile floor. And then it happened.

I expected you to pick up the gum and toss it on top of the butterscotch discs. Their box is much larger and entirely open-faced, not to mention on the bottom shelf. I didn’t expect you to put in the effort of replacing the package in the oh-so-complicated cardboard display it had been sitting in on the top shelf. And I certainly didn’t expect the flabbergasting, rage-inducing showcase of laziness that followed.

You didn’t pick up the gum at all. Instead, you kicked it under the shelf.

You kicked it. Under. The shelf.

This kind of behavior would’ve pissed me off if exhibited by a twelve-year old. But you, you’re (chronologically at least) an adult. Easily in your mid-twenties. You (sadly) have three children, for whom you are setting a fantastic example, you shithead.

For a moment, I stood staring in disbelief from my place at the cash register. I wanted to pick up the PA and say, “Attention shoppers, would the lazy piece of shit who just dropped the Dentyne in Aisle three please retrieve it from the shelf you kicked it under and put it back where it belongs like a civilized human being who can handle the plebeian task of grocery shopping? Oh, and while you’re at it, please get a damp paper towel or baby wipe or something and clean off the brownish paste of snot and macaroni and cheese that has been crusting on your poor son’s face since the last time you were here? Thank you, and have a pleasant day!”

But, since I am not a confrontational person, I let you and your brood meander a little further down the aisle, and then, still customerless, I marched down Aisle 3, and performed the ridiculously demanding chore of bending over, grabbing a weightless pack of gum, and putting it back on the shelf where it belonged. I hope you saw me. And if you did, I hope my motions were exaggerated enough and my glare reprimanding enough that you got my point. When it came time for you to check out, you came into my line and I greeted you with the same sunny, “Hello!” that I issue to all of my customers. Missing from my greeting was the customary, “How are you?” Because I know how you are. Lazy. Laaaazy. Disgustingly lazy. And oh, yeah—I hate you.

Sincerely,

Kyleigh

Dear interrupting customer,

The other day at work I was helping a teenaged girl find a couple books she was looking for. She didn’t have a lot of information on the books but since she was nice and understanding, I went the extra mile to try to find what she wanted. See how that works? We give as good as we get.

You, on the other hand, gave crap. I was at the info counter side of the register and the girl was standing a few feet away from me. We were talking a bit and I was typing a bit. I saw you walk up to the desk out of the corner of my eye and so I looked up to make eye contact and give a quick nod to let you know I saw you. Then I asked the other customer if I had gotten the right series. You waited about 12 seconds and paced about in front of the counter the whole time.

Then you came over, closer to the girl I was helping so I know you saw her, and interrupted me. Impatient much?

“Do you have Catcher in the Rye?” You demanded. I said we were currently out but had more on order for the store. You looked shocked and more than a little confused. I tried to tell you I could help you as soon as I was done helping this other customer. I got as far and gesturing toward her and opening my mouth before you interrupted again.

“Well, when will it be in?”

I smiled apologetically at the girl and told you it was on backorder so I didn’t know when we would get more copies. Normally I would offer to order you a copy so you wouldn’t have to keep checking up on our stock. But since you were rude to another, very polite and understanding, customer I didn’t ask if you wanted to special order. Not that I had the chance. You stalked off in a huff, immediately leaving the store. Asshole.

You know, you can read books before the author dies. Don’t be so surprised when a classic is out of stock a week after the author passes way. Reading the Catcher in the Rye isn’t exactly a unique idea right now. Plus, J D Salinger wrote other books as well. I would have shown you those if you had been nice. Or maybe we could have looked in used books to see if a copy was over there. Tens of thousands of people are picking up Catcher in the Rye right now, it looks like you’ll have to wait your turn.

Sincerely,

Kelly

Dear customers who set off the door alarms,

Just walk through the security gates. The noise is annoying to everyone, especially the employees. I know you can hear the noise, you are looking around with that “Did I do that?” face. Just walk on in.

Do not turn and look at the gates and tilt your head with confusion. Do not shout to the person at the information counter, “I don’t know what it is!” or “I didn’t steal anything, ha, ha!” Walk into the store, which is what the person at the counter is gesturing for you to do. You would have heard that request had you not been yelling, “It’s beeping! Did I set it off?” Yes, you did.

If you walk through we can probably demagnetize whatever item you are carrying. It is simple. Usually it’s a bag from the game store in the mall, but it might be a tag in your coat or purse. Or an item in one of the myriad other bags you are holding. We do not need you to dig through the bags. Please don’t remove items one by one, I don’t want to see your new wallet or bra or make up. We can put the entire plastic bag on the demagnetizing pad. One push of a button and ‘sproing!’ no more beeps.

But we aren’t doing that are we? You are still standing in the doorway as people who very well could be stealing things walk past you while the gates beep. For the love of all that is holy, just walk through the gates and present yourself at the register. That way no one will give you death stares and shout at you. We know you didn’t mean to make the gates beep. But if you keep standing between them, you are making everything worse.

Sincerely,

Kelly

Dear no name lady,

I was working at the register the other day when you came up and requested to talk with a manager. You were a bit abrupt and looked all sorts of cranky. I knew one of our managers had recently been out on the floor but I always seem to give her the crazies, so I asked my co-worker if any other managers were in available. He gave me the name of another (male) manager who should be around. You overheard all of this and learned both managers names.

I left to get the male manager from across the store when the younger, female manager walked right past me. I had to give you over to her, it wouldn’t make sense to bother the other manager just to avoid annoying this one. You gave her a once over as she asked how she could help you and immediately said you were supposed to be talking to the other manager, even calling him by his name. Way to eavesdrop and be a jerk. She could help you just as well as he could, was she too young? Maybe you’re just too crabby and old.

She tried to help you despite your misgivings, asking your problem and nodding along politely. She tried to take your name so she could mention your issue to our general manager, since you obviously didn’t think she was high enough up the ladder. You said no. She explained why she wanted to know, but you interrupted and were adamant in your refusal to give any information. Why? How could giving your name hurt you? You knew her name and you used it, a lot.

You didn’t want to give anything, but you did want the number of our corporate office and the names of the owners. You mentioned the other manager by name a few more times and made it sound like you had some sort of appointment with him. You were supposed to be talking with him. She was clearly wasting your time. Giving up on trying to assist you herself, she went to the other information desk to get the manager whose name you repeated like a mantra. You were clingy and followed her, probably because you thought she might say bad things about you. You were right, we do like to warn each other about difficult customers and you were vying for worst of the day.

Before you could talk to the other manager, you set your sights on the woman in charge of our used books section. Your problem dealt specifically with her. Turns out she didn’t buy all the books you brought in. Well? That happens. Sometimes we have too many of a particular title. Sometimes the books people bring in are dirty or marked up. Sometimes they are so off the wall we don’t think anyone would by them, so we don’t buy them from you. But you wanted to yell at someone.

Do you understand the system? Why would we buy books we couldn’t sell? We aren’t doing you a favor. We didn’t ask you to clean out your house and bring us your left over crap. This is a place of business, not a book storage depot.

Then the male manager you had such an affinity for came up to the counter. You saw him approaching and shook your head immediately. Turns out you recognized him. That right, the male manager, who is older than the manager you were previously talking to, helps run the used books. You’ve dealt with him before. He knows all about you, probably even knows your name. Your precious, secret name no one else could have the privilege of writing down.

Now there was no one left to deal with. One manager was incompetent in your eyes, the other one knew your MO. You complain about the system a lot. You bring in over 25 books at a time, so the buyer picks up the first 25 and give you the rest back without looking at them. Of course she isn’t following the rules, she is specifically picking on you and choosing titles she won’t buy anyway. She wants you to go home with as little money as possible. She’s a horrible person and has a grudge against you. Did I get it right?

You got the number for corporate and after redeeming your used book memo for cash, stomped out of the store. As the doors closed we all crowded around the register you got your money from. After hitting a few keys, the drawer popped open and five of us looked over the slip of paper from your transaction. Printed on it clear as day was your name, address, and phone number.

Sincerely,

Kelly

Dear Pastor Assface,

For the past two weeks we have had a plexiglass box at each register to collect money for Haiti. We have a nice sign saying which charity we are donating to and have a book about said charity next to the box. Since the boxes are clear you can see the money inside and how generous people have been in their giving. I’ve seen ones, fives, tens, and twenties in this box. Someone said a very kind gentleman put in a $50.

You are not that gentleman. The clear boxes also mean we can see when people put stupid things in the box. Non-monetary items. You put in something that fell in that category.

Now maybe you didn’t read the sign; didn’t understand that we were donating money; not having some sort of auction. That is what I thought when I first saw a giftcard for our store in the box. Maybe someone thought we were auctioning off items, or maybe they thought…I have no fucking clue. At this point I had to open the box.

The envelope containing the card was worn, very worn. It had a couple of receipts in it and the offending giftcard. Your name was in to “To:” line and it was from some family. I learned that you are a pastor. I thought pastors had to have some form of higher education, I thought you would have had to pass at least one reading comprehension test in your years of schooling.

The giftcard was for 20 cents. The newest receipt said “Remaining balance: $0.20. Really? You put a giftcard for a local bookstore into a donations box for Haiti? For Haiti!? Did you think they wanted to order books online? On what? Home building? If you didn’t want to card tell the clerk to give the remaining balance to the next person in line, or give it to the clerk, we like money off our books as much as the next person.

Do NOT put it the a donations box. I took it out and put in a quarter. I know it’s not a lot, but it’s more than what you did. At least my quarter will add up to a greater total instead of making the donations box look like a trash bin.

Sincerely,

Kelly

Dear calendar lady,

You called the store from your home, some 40 minutes away, to see if we had a calendar. A very specific calendar. You said it was a Michigan calendar with tear-a-way pages. I politely informed you that we did not have anymore desk calendars. You asked if I could check on this one. I said that I knew for sure we had sold out of our desk calendars. You asked for my name. At that moment, I knew this conversation was going to take a while. I shouldn’t have answered the phone.

I gave you my name, three times because you kept talking over me, trying to describe your stupid calendar. It had pictures on one side of the sheet and the days of the month on the other. That’s nice, sounds like a calendar. We don’t have it. Then you started using my name in every sentence. I felt like I was talking to my grade school principal. But no matter how often you said my name in that holier than thou tone, no desk calendars were going to appear.

You asked if I would just look it up in the computer. Unfortunately we don’t have listings in our computer for the calendar and other stationery items. I tried to explain this to you. You asked if I would go look at the calendars to see if this particular one was there. I hated doing that when we had dozens of calendar varieties, wandering among the calendars looking for something a customer is describing over the phone is tedious. But when I know we don’t have one? No way am I looking.

I told you we didn’t have desk calendars, we were all sold out and all we had were wall calendars. You told me it could be a wall calendar, it could be hung on a wall. Lots of things can be hung on a wall, lady. It doesn’t make them wall calendars. I asked if the calendar you wanted was about 12 inches square. You said no, it was smaller. Desk calendar sized, perhaps? I didn’t bother asking.

You said, “Kelly, I just want to see if you have this particular calendar in. If you would go look it would save me a trip. I live almost 40 minutes away and I don’t want to drive out there is you don’t have it, Kelly.” We don’t have it! I’m not telling you we have a similar one and I’m not sure if it’s right. I’m saying no, don’t drive here, don’t waste your time. We don’t have what you want.

I think my irritation showed in my tone, because you upped the usage of my name. Thank goodness I had a co-worker there to roll my eyes at or I might have yelled at you. I repeated our ‘wall calendars only’ status and you said okay. End of story? No. After a pause you said, “So are you going to go look?” Fine. I put you on hold and talked to my co-worker while he looked up a book. I tapped my fingers on the counter and estimated exactly how long I should leave you on hold. I thought about reading a magazine article.

A minute later I picked up. Stifling my irritation for a final showdown I said, “We only have academic planners, Twilight wall calendars, and Eckhart Tolle wall calendars.” You said thank you in a huff and hung up. My co-worker grinned. He thought the Eckhart Tolle was a nice touch. I thought hitting you in the face would be a nice touch, but when I have to deal with people I hate over the phone, I’ll take what I can get.

Sincerely,

Kelly

Dear caller,

You called the store today and as soon as you started talking I hated you. Apparently you had received a phone call from us, but had been unable to reach the phone in time. So you called back. Sounds reasonable, but I know where this is going. You see, every morning our special orders manager calls the customers whose book orders have arrived at the store. And almost every morning/early afternoon people like you call us back.

Our special orders manager leaves a message, something along the lines of, “This message is for Mr. Smith, I’m calling to let you know your book arrived at —- and is available to be picked up.” But you are too busy/inept to listen to messages aren’t you? So you called me. I asked if there was a message left for you and you said yes. I asked if you listened to said message and you said no. Of course not.

You said the phone call might have been in regards to a book you ordered. I said the message would let you know if it had come in. You didn’t want to go that route. You wanted me to tell you if the book had come in or if there were any problems. Unfortunately for me, the books had not yet been brought onto the floor. They were still sitting on the desk of the person who called you and LEFT A MESSAGE!

So I put you on hold and in the process of trying to call the special orders manager, we got disconnected. Oops. I waited for you to call back, but you didn’t. I assume you thought I hung up on you and then you listened to your message telling you your book was in the store and available to be purchased. In retrospect I wish I had hung up on you. Right at the beginning of the conversation. It would have saved us both a lot of time.

Sincerely,

Kelly

Dear customers having a conversation near my section,

Your conversation went something like this:

customer A: “I feel like I should write movies.”

customer B: “Because everything out there is trash.”

customer A: “Right. But I’m not that good at describing what’s happening. Like, there’s so much going on in my head, it’s hard to get it out.”

customer B: “Oh, you should write plays then.”

customer A: “Yeah, or screenplays. (Picks up The Ultimate Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy) This isn’t too long. I could do this.”

I have a few questions. These are not in order of importance.

• Do you know what playwrights or screen writers do? They describe what will happen on stage or in front of a camera. With words. Words that come out of their heads.
• Would you watch a play where the actors just stand on stage and talk without moving because the writer didn’t know how to get all the description out of his head? Even Beckett has people walking around.
• Have you read The Ultimate Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy? It’s five novels. Yes they are short, but it’s five! I am going to go ahead and assume you don’t have a single finished novel at home. Let alone five. 5!
• Do you know how much I hate you? It’s a lot. I hate you a lot.

Sincerely,

Kelly

P.S. Seriously, five novels. And the book is 815 pages. I hate you so much.

Dear helpful customer,

You walked up to the counter and after some awkward eye contact you said,

“Valentine’s.”

It wasn’t even a question. My co-worker and I stared at you, hoping you might give us another clue.

“Valentine’s?”

This time it was a question and you were irritated. It would be helpful if you used more words. We asked if you wanted cards. You said, “For kids.” Okay, more words is helpful, but not by much. I told you we didn’t have the packs of cards for classroom exchange. This made you more irritated. My co-worker piped up, probably to stop you from saying Valentine’s again. “We have books over in the children’s section for Valentine’s Day.” You looked confused at the suggestion.

“Books?”

Great, we were back to one word questions. Yes, of course books! You are in a bookstore! It’s in the name of the store, look around you. Those rectangular things on the shelves, they’re books. We sell other items as well, but you have to give us more to work with. I said yes, books and single cards, but no card packs. You muttered that what you really wanted was some sort of Valentine’s activity for your son. How the hell was I supposed to guess that from your “Valentine’s” demand?

We told you there were no Valentine’s kits or activities in the store. Truth is, there might be, but we had lost interest in helping you when you lost interest in expressing yourself in full sentences. No one here is a mind reader.

Sincerely,

Kelly

Dear dictionary lady,

You creeped everyone out. I (kind of) understand your desire for the perfect dictionary for your English class. I suppose you wouldn’t want to spend $30 on a subpar book of definitions, but you still need to stay on your side of the counter. I was afraid you were going to climb right on over and shake me until I truly grasped your dictionary requirements. I’m still unsure what you were talking about. You had a hardcover thesaurus already and you wanted a dictionary to go with it. Who uses a full-sized hardcover dictionary during class? You said you had to write and turn in paragraphs in class. “Paragraphs!” you said, getting bug-eyed, “In class!” I pretended to to care.

When you wanted to know which dictionary I used in class and I told you I never used one, you seemed offended. You leaned across the counter to explain how your community college classes are very hard, how you are the only one getting an “A”, how professors from the local state college teach there. Is that why the classes are hard? Because professors from my university teach them? Then why didn’t I need a dictionary?

To tell the truth, I don’t really hate you, but I got the feeling that you hated me. Well, me and every other twenty-something in the world. You told me how the 20 year olds in your English 210 class didn’t even know what commas and semicolons were. You had to teach them, taking time out of your busy, paragraph writing class time. Poor you. They are all so stupid, like all 20 somethings I’m sure, and so very, very lucky to have such a wizened person such as yourself to guide them. I was insulted. The other girl working the info counter with me had never used a dictionary during class either and we could easily read the annoyance and superiority in your face. You clearly knew so much more than we did.

You needed an “expert opinion” to help you choose between the Oxford and the Merriam-Webster dictionaries. I walked to the other side of the store and told the person who shelves the reference section that you were crazy. He had no idea which one was better and thought you were way too intense. One of my co-workers is also an english teacher at a local high school. She said Oxford and I brought her opinion back to you. You were way too happy. Then you left my section of the store and I thought your crazy was over.

I was wrong. You brought your dictionary compulsions to the registers. One of my other co-workers tried to tell you about the OED, attempting to reassure you that the Oxford dictionary was the right choice. You had no idea what she was talking about. She tried to explain how you can use the Oxford English Dictionary at the library to look up every word in the English language. You told her that you didn’t want to shop there because they jack up the prices. She was understandably confused. How do they jack up the prices at the library? Books are free. You just have to bring them back. She didn’t know you wanted a dictionary for class. She just wanted to give you some dictionary info to ease your dictionary fervor.

But she is in her twenties, so she couldn’t possibly know what she was talking about. A 20 volume dictionary, who ever heard of that! Not you, and that was all that mattered. Good luck getting that Associates degree and transferring to the state college for your architecture degree. I bet you develop a hunchback carrying hardcover dictionaries and thesauruses around the 8 square kilometers of campus.

Sincerely,

Kelly