Customer: “Hi, can I get my dogs nails clipped?”

Me: “Yes, have you been here before?”

Customer: “Yes.”

Me: “OK.” *pulling up info* “It looks like your dog’s rabies certificate expired last month.”

Customer: “I have the papers at home. I’ll bring it in next time.”

Me: “Sorry sir, we need the current rabies certificate to do nails.”

Customer: “So you don’t want to do them?”

Me: “I can’t do them, sir. It’s our policy.”

Customer: “I thought that was just for grooming.”

Me: “No sir, it’s for all services. I can’t–”

Customer: “Fine, I’m never coming back again!” *storms out*

Coworker: “Guys! There’s a car pulled in backwards in the drive-thru. They’re backwards!”

Backwards customer: “Hi, I just want a fish sandwich and a chocolate milk shake.”

Coworker: “I’m sorry. We don’t have those items. Is there something else I can get you?”

Backwards customer: “No, I just want a fish sandwich and a chocolate milk shake!”

Coworker: “Ma’am, do you realize you’re at [Mexican fast food restaurant]? Would you like a taco?”

Backwards customer: “Okay, okay, we’re kidding! Alice, this is your mom and Aunt Marie!”

(I happen to be Alice. Family are the worst customers!)

(This is early December, when most of the companies have their big night out. A visibly drunk patron needs to be asked to leave due to inebriation.)

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but I think you’ve had enough for tonight, and I think it’s best if you call it a night.”

Customer: “What? I’m not druuunk! You’re ouuut of yoooour mind!”

(I guide the drunk customer to the door, which he immediately grabs a hold of to resist being led out of the bar.)

Customer: “I’m not leaving! You’re going to have to call the cops to get me out of here!”

Me: “Well, sir, if you take a look over at the table with the people looking very intently at us… that’s the police department’s Christmas party.”

Customer: *leaves, rather expediently*

(After serving them their fast food, a woman with a family of six runs up to the counter, furious.)

Customer: “You! You stacked our food wrong! Now my kids are crying!”

Me: “Pardon?”

Customer: “Come look!”

(She brings me down to their table, where their three pre-teens are crying their eyes out and her husband looks incredibly frustrated.)

Customer: “Look!”

Me: “Ma’am, I don’t see anything wrong with your food–”

Customer: “[Child #1] is supposed to eat first, but his food is on the bottom! We won’t be able to get it without moving the other things!”

Me: “I don’t think I understand.”

Customer: “He’s the first person on the left! He has to eat first, or Satan will claim his soul!”

Me: “Uh…”

(I decide to ask counter-clockwise around the table what everyone ordered, and hand them their food out off the pile.)

Customer:, “Oh, thank you! You will serve as a warrior of God someday!”

Me: “…right.”

(That family still shows up once a month or so, and suffice to say, I always run out to see what order they’re sitting in before I serve their food.)

Customer: “Hi, I’d like to order a small pizza.”

Me: “Sure, anything else today?”

Customer: “My number?”

Me: “…anything else?”

Customer: “My number?” *smiles*

Me: “Your number…?”

Customer: “…sorry, I wanted to try that pick-up line out.”

Me: “Oh…well…it didn’t work. Have a nice day.”

Customer: *walks away with his head down*

Also seen on: Not Always Romantic