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  • This Round He Lost (In Translation), Part 4
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    Category: Family & Kids

    Unbalanced Customer

    , | Baton Rouge, LA, USA | Extra Stupid, Family & Kids, Food & Drink

    (A lady comes up to my register with a child on her hip. The boy has to be at least two or three years old, plenty old enough to walk on his own. His mother orders several meals with bright red fruit punch, value sizing all of them.)

    Me: “Here are your drinks. The food will be out shortly. Shall I carry your tray for you?”

    Customer: “No, I’ve got it.”

    Me: “Are you sure? It’s kind of heavy and wobbly, especially with you holding your child in one arm. It’s not a problem at all.”

    Customer: “NO. I’VE. GOT. IT!”

    (I’m still not sure she can get it on her own, but there is nothing I can do at this point.)

    Me: “Okay. I’ll bring your food out when it’s ready.”

    (The customer walks off, and I wince as the tray wobbles unsteadily in her hand. I turn back to my work, but not a minute later there is a huge crash from the back of the dining room, near the entrance to the kiddie play area. My coworker and I rush over to see what is going on. With one hand still holding her son and the other balancing a tray of three 32 ounce drinks, the customer had attempted to open the door to the play area. The busted cups, along with all 96 ounces of fruit punch and ice, are splattered on the floor. Note that there is a large sign posted that bans food or drink from the play area.)

    Me: “Oh, I’m sorry. Your drinks are ruined. Why don’t you have a seat? I’ll get you some new ones?”

    Customer: “Okay. We’ll be in there.”

    (The customer attempts to step over the large mess and enter the play area.)

    Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I’ll have to ask you to sit at a table. If you want to watch your kids, we have several right here by the glass wall looking into the playground.”

    Customer: “But I want to eat in THERE.”

    Me: “I understand, ma’am, but we ask that you don’t bring food or drinks in the play area. There aren’t any tables in there anyway, just two small benches.”

    (The customer continues to get more and more irate.)

    Customer: “But I want to eat in there!”

    Me: *firmly* “Ma’am, please have a seat. Your food will be out in just a minute, and we will get you new drinks. I cannot allow you to break the rules. It’s too easy for the carpet and equipment to get ruined if you spill while in the play area. You’ve already caused a hazard by trying to go inside with two full hands.”

    (While we are speaking, I have to physically catch one little girl who tries to run out the door and slips on the drinks. I also have to stop several other children from nearly having the same accident.)

    Customer: “FINE!”

    (The customer sighed loudly and stalked over to a table. When my coworker came back, I got him to watch the door so I could get towels and a mop. I spent the next five minutes on my hands and knees, cleaning up a mess that temporarily stained both of my hands bright red. I also had to keep an eye out that no children came through quickly and hurt themselves or me. Then I had to spend longer drying it to completely eliminate any chance of injury by anyone. The customer spent the entire time giving me one of the dirtiest glares I have ever seen.)

    Wouldn’t Want To Be In Their Shoes

    | Stockholm, Sweden | Bizarre, Family & Kids

    (I work for the post office at their retail support. We take calls from our retail stores. Outside of every store there are postboxes. They are locked with a special key that only post office employees have. It’s a Saturday afternoon.)

    Me: “Welcome to retail support. You are talking to [My Name]. What can I help you with?”

    Caller: “Hi. It is [Name] from [Retail Store]. There are two guys here and they have a question. You see, they were fighting outside and one of them got so angry that he took the other person’s shoes and put them in the postbox. So, they wonder what we can do?”

    Me: “Excuse me… Did you just say someone put another person’s shoes in the postbox?”

    Caller: “Yeah, I know. I can’t stop laughing. One of the guys’ dads is here and wonders if there is anything we can do?”

    Me: “Yeah. I can send someone out to your store to open the postbox for them. But, since the customer himself has put something in the box that shouldn’t be there, they will be charged. Else they will have to wait till next time the box will be emptied.”

    Caller: “Okay. Wait a second.”

    (The employee gives the information to the customer and comes back to me.)

    Caller: “They say they will wait until Monday for it to get opened. Thank you for your help. Bye!”

    Me: *feeling confused* “Bye…”

    Coworker: “Did I just hear what I thought I heard?”

    Me: “Yep…”

    Credited Childsplay

    | USA | Crazy Requests, Family & Kids, Themed Giveaway, Top

    (I work for a service that answers phones for TV commercials. One commercial in particular is giving us all fits! It is for a cup that freezes sweet liquids into slush-ice. The kids have been calling in, in DROVES, trying to get one. The offer is to be paid with a credit card and you have to be 18 or over to get it. This caller sounds like a five year old.)

    Me: “Thank you for calling for [Cup Product]! How may I help you?”

    Caller: “Yeah. I wanna [Cup Product] thing.”

    Me: “Ma’am, do you have a credit card?”

    Caller: “Yeah. It’s 123456789.”

    Me: “I’m sorry, but that is not a card number. How old are you?”

    Caller: “Uh… I’m a hundred.”

    Me: “Ma’am, please get your mommy to come to the phone. If you want a [Cup Product], you have to have an adult with a credit card.”

    Caller: *getting crafty* “Uh, well, I already ordered it an’ used my Mommy’s—uh, my card. So, you can send it. Okay?”

    Me: “Now look, honey… You need to have an ADULT come to the phone. Go get someone older.”

    Caller: “Okay.”

    (There is the sound of the receiver being put down, then instantly picked up again. I hear the same voice, now pitched much lower.)

    Caller: “Hello? This is my Daddy. Please send me the [Cup Product] thingy, please!”

    A Bad Hair Day

    | FL, USA | At The Checkout, Bigotry, Family & Kids, Health & Body, Top

    (It is Christmas Eve. I have just finished a very difficult 13-hour shift, with a 2-hour commute to the small town I live just outside of. I am picking up milk. My hair is cropped short, and though I am very skinny, my uniform is shapeless except for the back brace I am wearing. As I get in line, a very drunk customer behind me turns to another customer.)

    Drunk Customer: “Can you believe this [lesbian slur]? Look at her! She can at least clean herself up before coming into our town! What a fat useless c***! She’s wearing a d*** girdle! Ha! That fat will melt right off when she goes to Hell!”

    (The drunk customer continues berating the way I look, and throwing insults over his shoulder. Finally I have had enough. I set my milk on the conveyor belt and spin around to face the man.)

    Me: “Let’s get a few things straight! First, this is a back brace, not a girdle! I wear it because I was born with a deformed pelvis and spine, and I can very easily paralyze myself with improper body mechanics. Secondly, I have been with my MALE fiancé for five years. But at least you are right about one thing. I would look a h*** of a lot better with my hair long. I used to have long, beautiful, full curls. So beautiful, in fact, my six-year-old niece would cry every time I visited her because she lost all of her hair when she started chemo for her leukemia. So for Christmas, I cut off all of my long feminine curls and have had them made into a wig so she doesn’t have to feel ugly when she goes to school. I just thank God she lives two towns over, because after what you’ve said about me, I can’t imagine what you and the rest of the people here like you would say to a sad, sick little girl!”

    (The next time I went back to pick up a few things, the manager approached me. It turned out the entire staff had donated to my niece’s cancer treatment!)

    Preorder Disorder, Part 2

    | Toronto, ON, Canada | Crazy Requests, Family & Kids, Food & Drink, Themed Giveaway

    (I work at a family style restaurant that offers free bread, salad, dessert, and tea or coffee with all entrees. One particular shift I’m notified I will be taking a birthday party of 15 kids, but they need to be out at a certain time for a movie. The group comes in 15 minutes past their reservation.)

    Mother: “Did you receive my preorder? I gave your manager our complete order so we can catch our movie on time.”

    Me: “Yes, I received it. The bread and waters are already on the table like you requested. I’m just about to bring out the salads, and the kitchen is already working on your order.”

    Mother: “Fine. But talk to the kids and see what else they want to drink. My son wants pop.”

    (She has me stand there reciting all of our drinks to the 15 boys multiple times, as they all choose different items. Before I walk away to make the drinks the mother speaks up.)

    Mother: “Excuse me? Why aren’t the salads out yet?”

    Me: “I was just going to get them before the boys needed more drinks. I didn’t see them on the preorder so they’ll have to be made now.”

    Mother: “You know we’re trying to catch a movie don’t you?!”

    (I quickly bring out the salads, and rush the drinks out to all the boys. Before I can go back to the kitchen to see how the meals are, I’m stopped again.)

    Mother: “As you know, we are in a rush, so my husband and I will have our teas right now. I prefer cream in my tea, my husband will take milk, but we want them both heated up.”

    Me: “Of course. I’ll be right back with them.”

    Mother: “Why haven’t you checked on our food yet?”

    (I go back to the kitchen and see the order is being finished. I have time to bring out the teas before I bring all of the food.)

    Me: “Here are your teas, and now I’ll go and get the meals.”

    Mother: “No, hold on. I want to order for me and my husband. We should eat something before the movie.”

    (It is a busy Saturday night, and the kitchen is backed up.)

    Mother: “We’ll have two steaks, medium, with a side of fries.”

    Me: “All right. I will put a rush on your order because I know you have to leave soon. But I should let you know steaks do take a bit longer to prepare.”

    Mother: “We ordered what we wanted! If we wanted something else we would have gotten that! Now where is their food?!”

    (I run back to the kitchen to place the rush order, and bring out the boys’ food. Everything is handed out and fine, when I’m approached again.)

    Mother: “This pesto linguine for my son is nut free, correct? It was on the preorder that he is deathly allergic!”

    (I know there was nothing on the preorder about an allergy, and even show her the paper she gave us. I take the pesto linguine away since, obviously, there are nuts in it, and get him something nut free immediately.)

    Mother: “You need to be more careful! He almost ate that!”

    (By the time the boys are finished eating, plus the parents, and I’ve given them their desserts, it’s the time they should have left. The mother comes up to me and starts freaking out about the movie time.)

    Mother: “I can’t believe how unprofessional you are. You knew we had a movie to catch!”

    (They all leave 15 minutes later, and the mother doesn’t leave me a tip on a $250 bill. She talks to my manager on the way out.)

    Manager: *to me* “Hey, I want to talk to you. Thanks for handling that table so well! She comes in every year for her son’s birthday and pulls that crap. Don’t take her personally. We’ve all had to deal with her here. I just can’t believe you didn’t break down like a few of us did!”

    (A few people in the lobby who have been waiting for a table witnessed some of her pleasantries, and were seated in my section afterwards. They tipped very, very generously after seeing me cater to her every whim!)

    Related:
    Preorder Disorder


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