Retail Tales: The customers

Like many folks, before I had an office and a salary I worked in retail. The retail experience is seemingly a rite of passage for teenagers, after all, at 15 you’re destined to end up behind some sort of cash register tending to customers and answering phones. Customer service. Some people love it, others hate it…myself, I wasn’t too terribly fond of it but I took it as it came. I was fortunate enough to work in a store that was as much fun to work at as it was a pain, and one thing that made it that way was of course the customers.

I got my first job when I was 15 and sophomore in high school. I worked at a local mom & pop computer store a couple miles from my house. We had a family computer but at that time the computer served only one purpose to me - games. Otherwise I didn’t know a thing about computers. I didn’t know the difference between RAM and a hard drive, what resolution was, or what VGA meant. But I thought computers cool and the one thing I did know is that I didn’t want to work at Big Bear or the drug store. I figured if you have to do crappy work somewhere you should at least have an interest in what that place does.

I wasn’t a very overt teen. I was quiet and didn’t really enjoy social interaction with people I didn’t know, which meant I was terrified of my new job. As a lowly new hire with a work permit, at first my job was just to watch, follow, and clean. But once I turned 16 I was “promoted” to full time sales floor staff, which meant answering phones, helping customers, running register, and of course, cleaning.

As this was a small independent store, I quickly got to know the regular customers. These people came in almost daily and they are ones that are responsible for helping me get over my fear of duties of customer service. The regular customers were all pretty nice people even if they were often a pain in the ass and were never quite sure when to leave.

The first regular customer I remember was a middle-aged guy named Frank that came in to the store while he waited for the bus to stop at the corner. Frank wasn’t exactly the biggest peanut in the turd but he was always happy to chat…and always happy to look through the collection of porno CDs. We had a single CD drawer behind the counter that had maybe eight porno discs. I was told the discs had been there for a few years and they never sold one nor did they buy any additional ones. Frank always wanted to see the CDs but never bought any of them. Despite Frank’s willingness to chat it up, his speech wasn’t always the easiest to understand. He had a deep voice and a slight lisp that matched his persona. At the time the new Pentium chips were hot items and we sold tons of them, however if you asked Frank he’d tell you he wanted to see the “Pendulum” chips.

As one would expect, Frank never bought a Pendulum chip. I honestly doubt if they guy even owned a computer. He’d hang out until he saw the bus coming down the street and then he’d leave and go home. You could set your watch on Frank, and the bus schedule. Later as management changed (and possibly the bus route) Frank didn’t come around anymore. About that time we also threw away the porno CDs. Too bad Frank had stopped coming around, we probably would have given them to him for free.

Frank was just the first in a long line of customers that came to be regular customers and become characters in themselves. Shy of Frank, I can’t say that all the customers I’m remembering happened in the order I’m writing them. I suppose that doesn’t matter much since the regular cast didn’t interact much. All the regulars seemed to shop independently, which is surprising considering they sometimes all at the store at the same time. I must also disclaim that the sales staff (myself included) were not the most politically correct crowd. But we were equal opportunity offenders. Race, gender, age, brains, accent, size, wealth…it didn’t matter, we’d find something about you we could pick on and you would instantly become a character. If you came to the store more than three times you got a nickname and it usually wasn’t flattering (but find me a sales staff that didn’t do that).

If customers could be grouped, one of the biggest would be the side show people. You know these guys, the ones that make you think Ringling Brothers just parked their train outside your door. By all rights these people were harmless customers but they always gave you something to talk about.

One of the most memorable was one we called Muppet Man because he had no chin. Seriously. His face went from his lower lip straight into his neck. No chin. I’m not sure what his deal was, if he had been injured or what, but it was a striking appearance to say the least. Then there was the Bearded Lady. I think there’s a Bearded Lady in every town and mine was no exception - and of course she needed tech support. She honest-to-god Shaggy stubble. I also recall that she had giant, crazy backwoods eyes…you know, the kind you see on people when there’s something wrong with them, like they’re getting join out of your pain. Another sight of a customer was the one dubbed Fish. I didn’t know Fish’s real name as he was a regular customer before I even started at the store, but he drove a beat up old Blue Oyster Cult van. The van pulled up one day and my boss shouted, “it’s Fish!” I asked who Fish was and he told me that Fish looked like Andre the Giant and smelled like fish. He wasn’t kidding.

Fish had to duck just to walk in the door and I’ll be damned, but he did look like Andre the Giant…and wreaked of fish. Apparently Fish wasn’t a Rhodes Scholar either and often brought in junk to sell us (we sold a used and new). In this one instance Fish had this little doodad looking thing and had no idea what it was but figured he could get a few bucks for it. My boss took the thing, looked at it for a minute, then told Fish it was nothing more than a phone line tester but he’d give him $10 for it. Fish was happy with that deal and left. Then my boss told me that the device was actually a laptop modem and we could sell it for $30 or more. That was also the time I found out that this boss (at the time) was just a cheap scammer.

While those customers always gave you something to stare at, another group of people always gave you some action. One guy we dubbed Stuttering John was just that, a stutterer. Now this wouldn’t have been a problem if the guy hadn’t also been the biggest dick in the world. He had a bad attitude the second he walked into the store and interacted with anyone. Maybe it was because of his stutter or maybe he had just stubbed his toe, but he was an angry little man. I wasn’t quite prepared for having to interact with a stutterer, it was the first time I had met up with such a disability. But as I thought was proper, I just acted like nothing was the matter, took my time and answered his questions. Unfortunately he didn’t like my answers and stormed off. Later he called back and after my standard phone introduction the first thing I hear is “Mah mah mah mah mah mah…” I almost lost it right there because I knew exactly who it was and what he wanted before he even said a word. And if I remember right he didn’t like the answer I gave him over the phone either.

Two other customers provided me with a couple of the scariest moments I ever had in that store. One guy got the nickname The Tumbler after an episode one slow afternoon. The man had shopped with us before and he was quite the pear-shaped fellow. He had Milton-thick glasses, a fanny pack, baseball cap, and waddled around the store in sweatpants. He wasn’t a problem customer, he was just a slow shopper. But one day he was waddling around the store and I was behind the counter watching him waiting for any questions. He was over by our wall of computer monitors when he just stopped suddenly, wobbled a bit and then fell over. He tipped over like a toy robot that had just run out of steam. If I had to guess, I probably went “oh shit” and then rushed over the guy to see if he was alright. Of course, this guy was easily 350+ pounds so I couldn’t really help him beyond making sure he was not injured. And much like an upside down turtle he just had to lay there until help arrived. I did what I could but knew my efforts alone weren’t enough. I rushed to the back and called for help. In the end I think it took myself, a co-worker, and one willing customer to bring him upright.

The other action was a situation of a different kind and one I’ll never forget. It was the first time I was actually feared physical harm. The guy wasn’t really striking in appearance except that the man kind of dressed like the One Man Gang, but much like Stuttering John, this guy didn’t like what we had to tell him. I’m guessing he wanted his computer back from repair and didn’t like the price or it wasn’t quite done yet. He got angry and started swearing and stomping around like a seven-year-old. At that time one the store’s “specialties” was a 50-pack of 3.5″ floppy disks we affectionately called “Disk Loaves.” Well, we had a display of loaves stacked up and while in mid-tirad he went over and destroyed our tower of disks. They flew everywhere as he continued to huff-n-puff. The situation was bad because I was the only one in the front of the store at the time. As is usual, my reaction was to run away. I ran to the back and called bloody murder for help, “Help! This guy’s tearing up the store.” My boss and a few others came running up front to detain the man and kick him out. I was visibly shaken and my heart was beating a mile a minute. After everything settled down my boss took me out to lunch to help calm me down and make me feel better. He did a good job too because as he told me his own memories of irate customers he told me, “don’t worry about that guy, he’s just a jerk. And I don’t think he was so tough because I saw an inhaler hanging around his neck.” That did make me feel a bit better but it didn’t change the fact that I thought the guy was going to beat me up.

After those customers that leaves room for one more type: the real crazies. The true nuts. They were few and far between but they always left an impression. These customers were the ones that had the best of both worlds - they looked the part and acted the part. The most memorable was one I called The Artist and he brought with him a revelation that will change the world. It was a normal day when this man walked in. He was tall with long black hair and the same crazy eyes the Bearded Lady had (I assume there was no relation). He seemed tense and in a hurry.

“Afternoon, sir, what can I help you with,” as was my normal greeting.

“I need a motherboard,” he said in a deep crazy voice.

I reached in the display case and pulled out a motherboard box. He opened it and closed it in disgust.

“I need a different motherboard,” he barked.

“Sorry sir, this is the only type we carry.”

“No this won’t work! Time travel isn’t FAT32 compatible!”

I don’t even want to know the expression I must have had on my face after he said that. It was quite possibly the only answer I didn’t have a response for. Not being sure exactly what to say without making this man angrier, I answered the only way I knew how.

“Sorry, this is the only board we have.”

“Is Brett back there,” he asked. Brett was the owner.

“No, he’s not in right now,” which was the standard response whenever anyone asked for the owner.

“You have a pen? I need to leave him a note,” he asked while burning a hole into my head with his eyes.

At the time I had a fountain pen. It was a modern fountain pen, but a fountain pen none the less and I liked it. He snatched the pen out of my hand before I even offered it to him and slammed the tip into the counter on a business card he had. He jammed it so hard he nearly busted the pen wide open. I grabbed the pen out of his hand, “Hey man, what’s your problem!?”

He pulled his hand back while continuing to stare me down, breathing heavy like he was holding himself back.

“Tell Brett I’ll be back,” he said and left.

I later found out that the guy was an artist and had made some sort of deal with Brett. The Artist would paint a picture and he’d get a motherboard in exchange. A few weeks later I walked in to work to find a painting of a Raven on the back wall. Apparently The Artist had taken his motherboard and traveled back in time to when he was a first grader and painted it, because it sucked. I never saw The Artist again, so I can only assume he found his FAT32-compatible motherboard and went back to 1955 to save his mom and dad.

It’s funny that out of the hundreds of customers I helped while I worked at the computer store, that there are only a few I really remember. I wish I would have remembered them for their honesty, charm, and large tips, but that’s just not the case. But these episodes of chaos, fear, and time travel were the minority. Most people just came and went without even wanting my help, which was fine with me. I really wasn’t too interested in helping them because if I did that meant they’d come back asking for me again and that was like the kiss of death. I liked just being the kid that worked at the store without having to pledge any loyalty to a single customer. I know that’s sort of anti-customer service but hey, I wasn’t there to make it a career, I was just there to make $8.50 a hour and then spend it of cheap computer parts.

Of course, the customers only made up one-third of my experience at the computer store. One other ingredient was, of course, the co-workers.

[This is Part One of a three part series. Check back soon for Part Two and Three.]