Some customers really don’t seem to listen when they’re talking to store employees. They seems to think they know better when they clearly don’t.

What would you do if you went to a store to buy a specific t-shirt and were told they don’t make that shirt in your size? Would you accept it and realize you can’t buy it, or would you keep repeating yourself, insisting that yes it does come in that size?

In today’s story, we meet a customer who really doesn’t seem willing to take “no” for an answer.

Let’s see how the story plays out.

“Customer” sends her groundskeeper to buy 4XL and 5XL shirts, becomes furious when we don’t carry them.

I worked at my university’s bookstore for two years as a register monkey. I say register monkey because “cashier” didn’t cut it: we had to do anything our handlers team leads told us to do, like trained monkeys.

Our “bookstore” was about 30% textbooks and 70% “anything we can put our logo or school name on and sell for a 200% markup”.

An older customer walked in the store.

So, one slow summer day, I’m sitting and talking with the other monkeys, when an old man walks into the store.

He looks to be about 80 years old, his back is bent and he can’t stand up straight, and he’s got a little crumpled piece of paper that he apparently tore out of one of those pocket notebooks held up to his face so he can read what he scrawled there.

He starts looking in our apparel section and I leave him be–no one wants someone bugging them right when they start looking–but note that he doesn’t seem to be finding what he’s looking for.

He looks for about 10 minutes before my handler tells me to go help him out.

The old man seemed grateful for help.

The following conversation takes place between me (ME) and the old man (OM):

ME: Can I help you find something, sir?

OM: Oh, yes, thank you son! I have these shirts I’m looking for… (He fishes out the crumpled piece of paper)

–He then lists six or seven styles of shirt, complete with SKUs from our website.

OM: And for each of those I need one in a 4XL and one in a 5XL.

That’s a problem.

ME: Oh, I’m sorry, sir, I don’t think we carry those in those sizes.

OM: Well, could you at least take a look?

ME: Of course. Give me a few minutes to check the stockroom.

So I head to the stock room, knowing damn well that the largest size we carry is 3XL, and not many of those to boot.

I actually do check, and sure enough, no 4 or 5X.

Maybe the shirts weren’t for him.

I walk back out to the sales floor and see the old man on his cell phone. Almost like a cartoon, I can hear this high-pitched voice talking loudly even from about 15 feet away as I walk up to him.

He excuses himself without hanging up and asks me if I found them.

ME: No sir, I was right. We don’t carry anything that size. I’m sorry, can I help you find anything else?

OM: Well, I’ve got my boss on the phone–(He sheepishly gestures with his phone)–and she’s a bit upset that you don’t carry the shirts. Could you explain to her?

His boss seems pretty rude.

ME: Um, sure.

He hands me the phone, and I try to greet the woman on the other end, henceforth referred to as Cranky Fat Witch (CFW), but she cuts me off before I get two words out.

CFW: Alright, I’m going to take this very slowly so you understand what I’m looking for. I need these shirts–(she lists the SKUs painfully slowly, asking “Did you understand that?” snootily each time). Now, do you think you could go get those for me?

ME: Yes ma’am, he told me what shirts you’re looking for. As I was explaining to him, we don’t carry those shirts in 4X or 5X.

She isn’t taking no for an answer.

CFW: Oh I’m sure you do. Now I need you to go get them for me.

ME: Ma’am, we don’t carry those. We only carry up to 3XL.

CFW: Then I need you to order them for me. This really shouldn’t be this difficult for you, you know. My husband and I would like to buy your shirts, and you should have the sizes your customers request.

ME: No ma’am, these shirts are not made in 4X or 5X. It’s not just that we don’t carry your size.

She really doesn’t seem to want to accept what he’s saying as truth.

CFW: Okay, I’m going to explain this slowly again, you don’t seem to get it. I need, four XL and five XL to fit me and my husband.

At this point I’m trying to restrain the rage building inside me like this woman restrains basic human decency and dietary regulation.

ME: Yes ma’am, I understand what you’re looking for, but we don’t have it.

CFW: Can I talk to someone who isn’t slow?

He had the perfect comeback.

ME: Unfortunately no, ma’am. We exclusively employ slow people. Can I help you find something else?

CFW, giving over to anger instead of her holier-than-thou attitude now: Alright listen here. I’m getting annoyed with you. Give me my shirts or let me speak to your manager.

ME: We do not carry your size, ma’am.

CFW: Now that is just rude! How dare you discriminate against my weight? Where is your manager! I–

The older man heard everything.

At this point, the old man reaches out and plucks his phone from my hand. He’s heard the whole conversation, because CFW had been screaming in my ear basically the entire time.

He briefly tells CFW that he’s coming back to the house, and they’ll have to find something else, then shuts the phone.

OM: Sorry about that, son. She gets like that sometimes.

ME: I’m sorry if I’ve caused you any trouble. She seemed like a real treat. She always treat her family like that?

This really was outside the old man’s job description.

OM: Oh no, I’m not family. I’m her gardener.

ME: Oh.

OM: Yeah, and I’m done. The next time she wants to buy a shirt, she can roll her own fat butt down here and get it herself.

He walked out of the store as I laughed like a loon.

CFW still didn’t let it go.

My manager got a call that afternoon from CFW, and told her exactly what I had.

She eventually filed a complaint with corporate about “fat discrimination” and was told to special order the damn shirts.

I never saw the old man again, but God bless him, I hope he’s somewhere her shrill little voice will never reach him again.

That lady is certainly determined to get those shirts! I’m shocked that her gardener would agree to go shopping for her like a personal assistant.

Let’s see how Reddit reacted to this story.

This person would’ve talked slower.

Another person loved the comeback.

A former security guard weighs in.

A former size 5xl shares their perspective.

When a customer is nice, they’re more likely to get what they want.

It’s not like he can make the shirts magically appear in those sizes.

If you liked this post, check out this story about an employee who got revenge on a co-worker who kept grading their work suspiciously low.