Category: Food & Drink

Stupid Customers, like the rest of us have to eat and drink. Sadly like the rest of us, they sometimes eat with the rest of us. For every waiter, server, drive-thru operator, coffee shop barista, and restaurant manager who has had to deal with fake allergies, vegetarians who don’t know the meaning of the word and idiots who have yet to understand the concept of clearly listed ingredients, we salute you!

Unhappy Customers Can Sour The Milk

| Toronto, ON, Canada | Bizarre, Crazy Requests, Food & Drink, Theme Of The Month

(A customer walks up to my cash register with a big carton of goat’s milk. He slams it down on my conveyor belt, looking angry and puffy.)

Customer: “Do you know the person that milked these goats?”

Me: *completely stunned* “Uh… no. I’m sorry, I don’t know who milked them. But I’m sure if you call the company that produces the milk and give them the batch number, they could put you in touch with the farmer, and HE OR SHE might know the person who operated the machine that milked the goats for that particular batch.”

Customer: “Machine?! The goats are milked with machines?!”

Me: “Probably… that IS how they do it most of the time. But I don’t know for sure. Like I said, if you contact the company they’ll be able to give you more information.”

Customer: “THIS IS RIDICULOUS. IT’S YOUR RESPONSIBILITY AS A STORE TO KNOW WHO HANDLES THE FOOD YOU SELL!”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but there’s really nothing more I can do to help you, aside from suggesting you call the company. If I may, why do you want to know who milks the goats?”

Customer: “BECAUSE I NEED TO KNOW IF THEY’RE KEEPING THE GOATS HAPPY. IF A GOAT IS UNHAPPY WHILE IT’S BEING MILKED, THEN THE MILK WILL BE SOUR. IT’S TRUE! I SAW IT ON A TV PROGRAM!”

(He then paid for his milk and left with it anyway, while I tried very hard not to burst out laughing.)

A Minor Mistake, Part 3

| UK | Criminal/Illegal, Family & Kids, Food & Drink

(Having asked for ID for two members of a family’s table and them not having any, the two young people buy cokes. However, not long afterwards I see them drinking cocktails purchased by the father.)

Me: “Excuse me, guys, but as I said at the bar I’m afraid I can’t let you two drink alcohol since you don’t have your ID with you.”

Father: “Yeah, but I bought them. So, it’s fine.”

Me: “I’m sorry, we can’t let anyone without ID drink alcohol. I need you to return those drinks or I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

Father: “You let them drink their drinks or I’m calling the police. You’ll get fired and you’ll end up arrested.”

Me: “You want to phone the police, to arrest me, because you supplied alcohol to a child?”

Father: “… We’ll leave.”

Related:
A Minor Mistake, Part 2
A Minor Mistake

Your Passport To Being Banned

| USA | Criminal/Illegal, Food & Drink

(I go into a bar I frequent. I had lost my wallet a few days earlier, but I know most of the bartenders, so I didn’t expect them to ask for identification. The woman working doesn’t recognize me, and asks for my ID. Also, I’m a 23-year-old white woman.)

Me: “I think I actually have my passport in my car. Hold on.”

(I go get it and show the bartender.)

Bartender: *not amused* “This isn’t you.”

Me: “No, it is…”

(I get this almost every time I show my passport, because it is an old picture and it really doesn’t look that much like me.)

Bartender: “Is this even real?”

(Now, I’m offended.)

Me: “It’s definitely me. I come here all the time and we went to [Community College] together!”

Bartender: “No, we didn’t. And this is DEFINITELY not you.”

Me: “It is! Look at the date it was issued. Look at my birth date. That picture was taken when I was 17. I’m 24 now, a little heavier, and my hair is longer and less pink, but it is DEFINITELY me!”

Bartender: “This is you?”

(She turns the passport to me and shows me the picture, one of an older man of Middle Eastern descent with a Saudi Arabian name and an impressive beard. A friend of mine had put his passport in my glove box months ago and then apparently forgot about it.)

Me: “You’re right; that’s not me.”

(Luckily, I had my actual passport, and was able to return my friend’s with an awesome story. With any luck at all, the bartender will fail to remember me again next time I go in.)

All Manner Of Meat With No Manners

| CT, USA | Bad Behavior, Crazy Requests, Food & Drink, Language & Words, Top, Wild & Unruly

(A customer approaches the deli just as I’m about to shut down the department to clean it. She takes a number and spends the next few minutes looking over the meat selections.)

Me: “How can I help you today?”

Customer: “Uh, yes… I would like half a pound of pastrami, please.”

Me: “Sure thing!”

(I slice her order and hand it to her. She thanks me and looks at the package. Just as she’s about to turn to leave, she looks at the package.)

Customer: “Excuse me! But this isn’t what I f****** ordered you stupid piece of s***!”

Me: “Ma’am, you asked for pastrami and that’s what I cut for you.”

Customer: *scoffs* “Well, that’s not what this is!” *points at the glass case*

Me: “Are you pointing at the pastrami?”

Customer: “Yes, I am, you dumb a**hole! You should be able to f***** see that!”

Me: “Actually, I can’t. One moment.”

(I walk around the counter to where she’s standing.)

Customer: “See, this is what I want.”

Me: *sigh* “Ma’am, that’s not pastrami you’re pointing at. It’s salami. It clearly says it on the wrapping and on the sign under the product.”

Customer: “I know that, you f****** idiot!”

Me: “If you know that, then why did you ask for pastrami? They’re not even close to being the same product. In fact they’re in different color wrapping.”

Customer: “Hey, stop being an a**hole and give me what I want! You’re making this more difficult than it has to be and you’re wasting my time!”

Me: “Sure, hold on. Please be advised that you are the one that placed the wrong order which is prolonging your stay here.”

Customer: “I don’t f****** care! Hurry up and finish my order!”

(I quickly slice her order as the deli is now closed and I want to go home.)

Me: “Here you go, ma’am.”

Customer: “Thank you. Was that so f***** hard?”

Me: “Yes, it was about as hard as reading a sign that says salami and confusing it with pastrami.”

Not Quite The (Ice) Cream Of The Crop

| UK | Bizarre, Food & Drink

(I work in a very popular chocolate shop that also sells ice cream in the summer. It is a particularly busy, hot Saturday. I am serving ice cream. There was a huge line of customers. Suddenly, a customer strolls into the store, leaving her bicycle outside. Eventually, it is her turn.)

Customer: “Finally. I’ll have a hazelnut.”

Me: “Sure, a double or a single?”

Customer: “Double.”

Me: “Would you like it in a cone or a tub?”

Customer: “A bag.”

Me: “…Pardon?”

Customer: “A bag.”

(I look at her for a moment)

Me: “I’m sorry, Miss, but the ice cream only comes in a cone or a tub.”

Customer: “Well, I need it in a bag. Do you have a bag?”

(We put chocolate in small transparent bags, but they would definitely not fit an ice cream tub, also there are no lids on the tubs to cover the ice cream.)

Me: “It won’t fit in one of our bags, miss.”

Customer: “Yes, it will. Get one.”

(I protest again, but fetch her bag anyway. I present it to her and show her the size, to prove it won’t fit.)

Me: “See, Miss? It’s too small. The tub won’t fit in there.”

Customer: “Oh, honestly, how do you even have a job? Do you even have a brain?”

(I’m hurt by this comment, and am getting quite angry.)

Me: “Look, it won’t fit; I don’t know what you’d like me to do.”

Customer: “Let me do it, girl.”

(She proceeds to take the full-to-the-brim ice cream tub and squeeze it into the bag sideways, smearing her ice cream all down the sides. I stare at her in disbelief. Ice cream is dripping everywhere.)

Customer: “Was that so hard?”

Me: *still staring* “Would… you like a spoon?”

(She held out the open bag and I dropped in a small plastic spoon with the already nearly melted ice cream. She paid and left. I watched her outside the window as she put her bag of squished ice cream into the child-seat of her bicycle, STRAPPED UP THE SEAT BELT, and cycled away down the road. I stared in disbelief for the rest of the day.)

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