The day I exploded

What a very strange week it's been.

We've had some crazy customer after crazy customer come into the store! One cussed me out a few hours ago!


This woman should be on medication! I have done nothing but bend over backwards to help her while she has continually antagonized me, my boss, the salesman and the name of this dealership. And she tells me to "Shut the f*ck up!"

This whole situation has been brewing for a few weeks now. Starting dollars in change. Literally. It's ridiculous. She's proof that there are crazy people well disguised walking around in society. She's evidence that no matter what you do to help, you can never make some people happy. She's further proof that no matter how much you brown nose and kiss ass a person, that person still has the choice not to appreciate your efforts just because.


I have never in my time here at this dealership walked away from a customer. I never imagined in my wildest that I would tell a customer they could help themselves. But when she accused me of not doing what I had proved to her I had done, accused me of being a liar, refused to allow me to show her where I had done everything within my means to help her, and continued to throw F-bombs at me for trying to show her what we had done in order to help her, I stopped myself from slapping her into the corner of my office for wasting my time.

As the woman began cussing and spewing her venom, I could feel my blood pressure rise. I could feel my pulse quicken, my hands start to shake. I've always wanted to be able to tell a customer where they can go with some of the idiocy he may bring and this lady had given me that opportunity.

I picked up her paperwork, the evidence of my case. I threw it down on my desk, lightly tossing it in her direction. I threw my hands down on my desk with my hands in tight fists. I stood up and as she began to follow me, I leaned over my desk and looked her dead in the eyes. For a second, she was frozen, half-way standing up as I spoke.

"Mrs. [Customer]," I stated as calmly as was possible, "I am done trying to help you. I will not be spoken to that way."

"I'll just call my attorney," she screamed as she stood all the way up. I was already walking out of my office door before she could put the period at the end of her sentence.

"That's fine! This conversation is officially over then," it was getting harder for me to keep my voice low. I was turning the corner in the hallway by this time and saw the owner walking past us. His eyes looked like they needed some assistance staying in their sockets. "If you speak to your attorney, I am no longer allowed to speak with you, Mrs. [Customer], have a nice day." I could feel my voice starting to shake. Why am I letting this customer get to me?

She continued to scream at me as she chased me down the hallway. That's why she's getting to me. I realized as I paced to the front of the showroom that I had somehow picked up the paperwork again. She continued as I walked, sounding like the parents in the Peanuts cartoons, "Wa wa wa, wa-wa wa waaa."

I finally reached the top of the tower, still hearing her spew out her hatred for me. What have I done to offend you other than bend over backwards and kiss your big, fat, white ass, you bItch! I wondered. "Ma'am, I'm done."

"Wa-wa wa, wa wa wa-wa wa," she continued. I don't even know what she was saying as my blood pressure was about to pop my ear drums. Enough, already! I could feel every pair of eyes on us as the conversation continued to escalate.

"Ma'am, I've already told you that if you want to consult your attorney on this matter, than I can no longer speak to you. I am just telling you now that I will not tolerate being spoken to that way, especially when I have done nothing wrong and everything in my power to help you in your situation!" I threw the papers back down on the desk and let the sales manager take over.

She finally left and the owner and sales manager just looked at me. "She told me, in her exact words, we 'never f*cking sent the check when we were supposed to send the f*cking check,' and told me to 'shut the f*ck up a minute' while she told me it was my fault for the fifteenth time." I could feel how red my face was getting.

Both of them looked at each other, awestruck. They knew as well as I did that I never treat customers that abrasively. The paused their stares at me. Then the owner smirked and snorted, "Good for you!"