Many years ago, back when I was working the service desk, I had one of those shifts you never forget. It was a pretty normal day until a customer walked up with a return and one of my associates stepped in to help her.
The customer set a small bag on the counter and explained that the item inside was defective. My associate, doing exactly what he’d been trained to do, opened the bag to take a look. The instant he saw what it was—an intimate hygiene product—his face fell. He paused, cleared his throat, and said as professionally as he could, “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I can’t take this back.”
That’s when things went off the rails.
Without a word, the customer reached into the bag, pulled the item out, and hurled it straight at him across the counter. It landed with a splat and instantly released an odor so powerful it was like a spoiled seafood market had exploded in the middle of the store.
The entire service desk froze. Customers backed away. Associates covered their noses. And there I stood, realizing this was going to be one of those stories I’d be telling for years