So there I was, having a pleasant conversation with one of my regular customer’s about her new grandson when I hear the familiar chirp of the shop’s door chime. I look over to see a woman tapping her foot and in her hand I see a box (oh boy…here we go). I say my goodbye and congratulations to my customer and as she is walking out she looks over her shoulder at me and frowns. I look over to the tap dancer and ask her if I can help her. “You better help me! I bought this product because you made me and I hate it!”. (Did I mention that we are in the middle of a heat wave and it is a full moon this week?). I smile and ask her what exactly she doesn’t like about the product to which she responds “I don’t like the way it feels in my hand when I am holding it”. I know right? Hard to believe, but this is my life. “Unfortunately that does not qualify as a manufacturer’s defect, so you are not able to return it.”.

It was at this moment I swear I thought her head was going to spin around. Her face went red, her feet were a tappin’ and now she was shaking the product in her hands…actually she started to look like someone who had just found their savior. Yeah, I said it. “You made me buy this! You told me it was a great product!” and then she said some other things but it all blurred into one big temper tantrum. When she stopped, I asked her if she was finished. She just gaped at me. I proceeded to tell her that it was not my policy, but the policy of the company that they only take back products with a defect to which she said “There is a defect, it doesn’t feel good in my hand.”. (Oh, there’s a defect alright but it ain’t with the bottle honey) is what I wanted to say, but alas I must behave. I told her I understood why she thought it was a defect but I didn’t think the company would. I gave her their phone number and told her to call them and maybe they could do something for her. Then she said “Why didn’t you tell me it wouldn’t feel good in my hands?”. This is when I actually looked over my shoulder because I truly believed I was being Punk’d. All I could say was “My hands are different than your hands” to which she replied “yes, that’s true”.

The moral of today’s tale…when you see crazy comin’…cross the street.Oh…and we all have different hands.