Perhaps the only thing commonly accepted in this world is the concept of mathematics. Two plus two will always equal four, no matter what language you speak, what country you're from, what color skin you have, what religious beliefs you hold... Regardless of whatever else divides us as human beings, we can all agree on basic mathematics as a universal constant. They're even the one language we can all agree is literally universal; in fact, some have even argued that it is the best way we can communicate with potential extraterrestrial life.
So why is math such a difficult concept for retail shoppers?
No matter how angry or frustrated you get at a store, basic arithmetic remains the same. No manager can change it so that two plus two equals twelve. No amount of complaints sent to corporate can remove the addition of sales tax from a purchase made in a state that charges sales tax. And no length of time will magically change the cost of paint per gallon or the price of that sandwich eaten for lunch. Arguing about it makes you look foolish and uneducated.
How do retail workers handle people like this?
Exactly the way I am now: by transforming our trauma into stories for others to share. Today, I am going to tell the tale of a customer who was commonly referred to as "Photo Finish". To this day, I have no idea what his actual name was. If he ever introduced himself, my mind has since blocked it out because our nickname for him was more appropriate and easier to remember. The reason why we referred to him as "Photo Finish" is really quite simple. He would come in no more than fifteen minutes before the store was to close, go to the CD section (this was back when CDs were still a thing, mind you), spend fifteen minutes picking out what he was looking for, and then bring them to the service desk to have them all price-matched.
In the early days of price matching, companies were very strict on the rules. For example, to price match Amazon, it had to be shipped and sold by Amazon. Items marked "Fulfilled By" or as third-party sellers would be turned down. This man would regularly bring up at least fifty CDs to the desk and expect us to research each and every one to find him discounts. The cost of lost labor spent appeasing a customer after closing to price match CDs (often only by a few cents) was so high that, as a manager, I would often just discount them by a few cents without bothering to research just to get him out of the store. It became such an issue that one day, I outright asked him why he bothered price matching when it never saved him more than five dollars, and he had to be spending more than that in gas to get to the store. His answer dumbfounded me.
"I just like making you all do the work for me."
It wasn't a customer loyalty thing, where he enjoyed the store and wanted to keep us in business and so would buy from us. It wasn't an internet-ignorance thing, as he would frequently play with his cell while we feverishly typed on four separate computers to try and get his purchases done faster. It wasn't even a cost-saving measure, as he surely would have saved far more purchasing them all directly from Amazon, as back then Amazon didn't charge sales tax. No, he specifically drove to the store, right before closing, to be petty.
Even after I specifically pointed out to him that he would save far more money if he just ordered what he wanted online and had it delivered, he told me he would continue coming to the store and continue insisting we price match his CDs. As I no longer work there and CDs are no longer even really a thing people buy, I have no idea if he still shows up fifteen minutes before closing on a Tuesday or Wednesday night.
He is now immortalized in print, however, as an example of how math can be used to prove a point, and sometimes customers just don't care.
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