(My store has a drive-thru menu board before the actual board where customers order. It only has pictures on it, no electronics of any sort.)

Me: “How can I help you?”

Customer: “I already gave my order to the first guy and he told me to pull up to the second board.”

Me: “That’s not possible, ma’am. There’s no one who could take your order at that first board. Can I take your order?”

Customer: “I already told you I gave my order to the first guy. He knows it. Ask him.”

Me: “Could you repeat it for me?”

Customer: “NO! I’m driving up now.”

(The customer drives up and I finally get her to repeat her order, which turns out to be a lot of food. I ask her to pull to the front door, which is literally twenty feet from the drive-thru window. Instead, she drives out of the drive-thru lane, drives around the entire store, and comes back in the drive-thru lane. She pulls up and looks at me again.)

Customer: “I told the guy at the first board that I was parked and he told me to pull right up. I hope you are nice because the last girl was really rude to me.”

Me: “…”

Man: “I want to get a drink.”

Me: “Sure. We have Coke, Diet Coke, Sprite, lemonade, root beer, iced tea, shakes, or smoothies.”

Man: “I’ll have an orange soda.”

Me: “I’m sorry, we only have Coke, Diet Coke, Sprite, lemonade, root beer, iced tea, shakes, or smoothies.”

Man: “I’ll take fruit punch.”

Me: “No, we only have Coke, Diet Coke, Sprite, lemonade, root beer, iced tea, shakes, or smoothies.”

Man: “Pink lemonade?”

Me: “It’s regular yellow. Is that okay?”

Man: “No, I’ll have the raspberry tea.”

Me: “It’s unsweetened.”

Man: “What kind of place is this?! Is there ANYTHING to drink here?”

Me: “YES! Coke, Diet Coke, Sprite, lemonade, root beer, iced tea, shakes, or smoothies.”

Man: “I’ll just have a cup of ice.”

Me: “…”

(This is a friend’s experience while working at a popular fast food place on the overnight shift.)

Employee: “Thanks for calling, how may I help you?”

Customer: “Hi. I came through drive-thru earlier tonight, and there’s something wrong with my food.”

Employee: “Um, okay…what’s wrong exactly?”

Customer: “Well, I ordered ***, and there was a used condom on the sandwich.”

Employee, holding in a laugh: “Sir, that’s impossible. We don’t practice safe sex here.”

Customer: “Well played.” *hangs up*

Me: *preparing a gyro wrap for a customer* “Would you like cheese on it?”

Customer: “Oh my God, no! I’m a VEGAN! Don’t you know what they do to cows in those horrible farms? They force them to get pregnant all the time, and then they take away their babies and kill them so we humans can steal their milk! Dairy products are cruelty! ”

Me: “Okay, okay. No cheese. Moving along. What sauces would you like on that?”

Customer: “Tzatziki sauce, please.”

(Note: the particular brand of tzatziki we purchased included both yogurt and sour cream.)

Me: “Ah, I’m afraid that’s a dairy prod–”

Customer: “I DON’T CARE! PUT IT ON!”

Customer: “Hi, I’d like a churro.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but we don’t serve churros. For desserts we have caramel apple empanadas or cinnamon twists if you want to try one of those.”

Customer: “No, I don’t want dessert! I want an enchilada!”

Me: “You mean an enchirito?”

(The customer pulls forward without saying anything. I ask a coworker to verify the order at the window because the guy wasn’t making sense.)

Coworker at the window: “You ordered a beef enchirito, correct?”

Customer: “NO! I wanted a gordita!”

Me: “Would you like the 4-piece meal or the 6-piece meal?”
Customer: “What’s the difference?”

——–

Me: “Would you like the quarter pound classic burger or the half pound classic burger?”
Customer: “Which one is bigger?”

——–

Customer: “How big is the 6 inch?”

——–

Customer: “How many come in a four-pack?”

——–

Customer: “Is your Sunday special on Sundays only?”

——–

Customer: “Does your turkey chic pea chili soup have beef in it?”

——–

Customer: “What flavor is your vanilla ice cream?”

——–

Customer: “What’s the difference between the lemon and the vanilla?”

——–

Customer: “Hi, do you sell books here?”
Me: “This is a bookstore, ma’am.”

——–

Me: “Thank you for calling Pittsford Plaza Cinema, how may I help you?”
Customer: “Yes, hello. Are you located in the Pittsford Plaza?”

——–

Me: “Thank you for calling Saltgrass Steakhouse in Meyerland Plaza where our gift cards make great holiday stocking stuffers. How may I assist you?”
Customer: “Hi, is this Saltgrass?”
Me: “Yes.”
Customer: “In Meyerland right?”
Me: “Yes…”
Customer: “Do you have giftcards?”‘
*click*

(Working at a sandwich place across the street from my college campus. One of my Spanish professors enters, and we chat in Spanish as I make her food. Another man comes in while we’re chatting, and stares at us.)

Customer: “What the hell? Don’t you dare coddle that job-stealing Mexican!”

Me: “Sir, that woman is a Ph.D. I can guarantee you, she did not steal your job. Oh, and she’s from New York. Can I take your order?”

Customer: *storms out*

(Backstory: A woman orders a Reuben sandwich and returns to the counter 30 minutes later with about a fourth of the sandwich eaten.)

Woman: “I want to speak to your manager right now!”

Crew member: “Sure, no problem.” *goes and gets manager*

Manager: “Hi, what can I do for you today?”

Woman: “Yeah, I got this reuben at 4 pm and it’s SOGGY!”

Manager: “Well, ma’am, you purchased it half an hour ago…”

Woman: “Well, I want a new one!”

Manager, hoping to get the looney out of the store: “Sure, no problem.”

(Suddenly, the woman goes from angry to flat-out crazy.)

Woman: “HERE’S YOUR DELICIOUS REUBEN!!!” *rubs sauce on counter and throws part of sandwich at manager*

Manager: *dumbfounded*

Woman: “I’m sorry…it’s not your fault.”

Manager: “…It’s alright…”

Woman: *thinks for a second, then throws remaining sandwich bits at manager*

(We all laughed quite hysterically, and our manager walked around with reuben sauce on his crotch all day.)

Related:
When Mood Swings Attack

(I used to work a fast food drive-thru window in which I met very strange and stupid people.)

Me, through the drive-thru intercom: “Hi, welcome to ***, how may I help you?”

Man, to one of his kids: “Pick something damn it! I don’t have all day for your sh*t.”

Me: “Hey ease up, would you?”

Man, speaking to me: “You little sh*t! You don’t know who you are messing with!”

(The man speeds up to my window with an angry look on his face. I look at him: a 5′5″, overweight and balding guy. Then he looks at me: 6-foot, 300 pounds of muscle, bone, and a relatively small gut. His expression softens slightly.)

Man: “…were you the one on the speaker?”

Me: “Yeah, that was me.”

Man: “How are you doing? It’s a great day today.”

Me: *big smile* “How’s the kid doing?”

Man: “Fine…you aren’t going to take my order, are you?”

Me: “Nope. My manager has the other headset and he might’ve taken your order if you didn’t piss him off. Have a nice day.”

(I worked at that place for 2 years and a month before I quit. I still have bad dreams about the place.)

(A well-known taco-based fast food joint sold toy chihuahuas that talked when you squeezed them.)

Me: “Hi, welcome to Taco ***. My name is ***, may I take your order?”

Lady: “What flavour do your chihuahuas come in?”

Me: “…they’re toys, ma’am.”

(And if that wasn’t enough, a few hours later another customer asked how much the talking chimichangas were.)