I am the only one working at this fast food burrito place right now, and I’m still kind of new. My manager goes to help a customer jump-start their car, and my coworker who is supposed to be on shift has called in sick

Me: “How are you today, ma’am?”

Customer: “I need a medium burrito. Make it quick; I’m late to a meeting.”

Me: “Of course, ma’am. What type of tortilla would you like?”

Customer: “I obviously want a flour tortilla if I didn’t say otherwise! That should be common sense!”

I begin to make her burrito.

Customer: “Give me chicken.”

Me: “All right, would you like dark or white meat chicken?”

Customer: “What’s supposed to be in the empty bucket?”

Me: “That’s our steak, but unfortunately, we are currently out, and my manager had to leave for a few minutes, so it will be about a thirty-minute wait.”

Customer: “I want steak. How about you just make it?”

Me: “Unfortunately, I’m not trained in using the grill, so I’m not allowed to use it.”

Customer: “Well, I want steak, so what are you going to do to help me?”

Me: “The best thing I can do is ask my manager to start cooking steak when he gets back, but like I said, it won’t be for a few minutes.”

Customer: “I told you I have a meeting soon and you tell me I have to wait? How is this acceptable service?”

At this point, I don’t really know what to do, and I am visibly anxious, so I offer to call my manager for her to ask when he’ll be back.

Customer: “You should know already that I don’t have time for that. Just give me chicken.”

Me: “Of course, ma’am, would you like dark or white meat chicken?”

Customer: “Does it matter? Just hurry up.”

I give her white chicken in the hope that she won’t come back to complain since most people who like dark also like light. After that, I roll her burrito and ring her up.

Me: “Would you like a receipt?”

Customer: “No.”

I click “no receipt” and hand her her food.

Customer: “Where’s my receipt?”

Me: “I clicked ‘no receipt’ because you said you didn’t want one.”

Customer: “I changed my mind. Print it.”

Me: “I can’t do that without manager approval.”

She scoffs at me and then sits down to eat even though she is “late for a meeting.” I think it’s over, but she comes over to me five minutes later.

Customer: “I wanted dark chicken meat.”

I have lost my patience now.

Me: “Since you told me it didn’t matter, you would have to pay for the new burrito.”

My manager finally returns, sees her yelling at me, and runs over to ask what happened.

Customer: “Your staff was rude, ignored what I wanted, and then refused to remake my food!”

My manager sees that I am on the verge of crying.

Manager: *To me* “Your side: what happened?”

Me: “She said the chicken type didn’t matter, so I gave her the cheaper option.”

Manager: *To the customer* “This is the first complaint that [My Name] has ever received, and I don’t think they actually were rude to you. I think you should leave.”

She goes on a rant about how my manager is an a** for choosing my side over hers.

Manager: *Picking up the phone* “Do I need to call 911?”

That made her leave. After that, my manager apologized that he wasn’t there to help me.

Related:
Some People Just Want To Watch The World Burn, Part 24
Some People Just Want To Watch The World Burn, Part 23
Some People Just Want To Watch The World Burn, Part 22
Some People Just Want To Watch The World Burn, Part 21
Some People Just Want To Watch The World Burn, Part 20

I’m driving cross-country because of a serious family medical emergency. I stop at a highway rest stop somewhere along the way to get gas and grab something to eat and drink on the road.

Because this is around 2020 or 2021, only two out of the eight or so food places inside are open — fast food burgers and a coffee chain. All of the tables and chairs have been removed.

I wait in line to order coffee. There are two people working; a cashier and a barista. Because of social distancing, after people order, they spread out and wait for their names to be called when their coffees are ready.

There are about five orders ahead of me that haven’t been made yet. A woman who was behind me in line pushes to the front and gets inches away from the barista’s face.

Pushy Woman: “I’m going to need you to make the two cappuccinos and the hot chocolate before you make anyone else’s drinks.”

Barista: “Please stand back. You’re going to have to wait your turn.”

Pushy Woman: “You need to take care of me first! I’m not waiting. I’m in a hurry and I want to get back on the road!”

I couldn’t believe the level of entitlement and disrespect — and the obliviousness.

The barista refused to push up the order, and the woman had to wait her turn with the rest of us — who also just wanted to get back on the road.

We have just closed our popular fast food place that sells tacos and other Mexican/American dishes. We are cleaning and have some lights on but not all of them. A customer pulls up to the drive-thru. and my manager approaches them.

Manager: “We’re closed.”

Customer: “Well, the lights are on so you must be open.”

Manager: “That’s because we’re cleaning.”

Customer: “Well… you should have all the lights off and use your phones to see!”

The customer sped out of the parking lot.

I always choose to order inside at [Popular Fast Food Chain], even if I’m getting the meal to go. When you order inside, you’re given a receipt with your order and a number, and you wait for your meal; if they get something wrong, you’re able to bring up the problem right away without inconveniencing any of the other customers too much. This does, unfortunately, put you in the crossfire of unruly customers causing trouble for overworked employees, but I find that the benefits outweigh the disadvantages.

I place my order, get my order number (321), and take up position to wait, arriving shortly behind a very grumpy-looking fellow built like a brick s***house. While I’m waiting, my phone goes off, and an employee ends up calling my number as I’m answering.

Employee: “Order number 321! Order 321!”

The caller turns out to have dialed the wrong number, and I quickly explain that and hang up. As I turn forward, I find [Grumpy Fellow] stepping away with a bag as I approach the counter… finding no food or bag, but a receipt on the counter.

Me: “Order 321?”

Employee: “But didn’t that man just—” *Calling to [Grumpy Fellow]* “Excuse me, sir! That’s not yours!”

Grumpy Fellow: *Flipping us off over his shoulder* “F*** you! I was here first.”

I’m a skinny and unfit man, and I quickly decide not to try and engage with someone who looks twice my weight in pure muscle and has made it very clear that he doesn’t want to act like a decent human being. The employee picks up the receipt he left on the counter and speaks to me.

Employee: “I’m sorry, sir. I can remake your order… unless you’d prefer this one?”

I look at the receipt and have to fight back a fit of giggles; his number was 312 (which explains but does not excuse his mistake), and his order was basically a double-serving of my order.

Me: “I would, but I can’t finish all that.”

Employee: “All right.” *To the kitchen* “Cancel order 312!” 

If [Grumpy Fellow] ever did come back to complain about the fact that he had taken someone else’s order instead of his own, it didn’t happen before I got my order and left.

Customer: “I only want meat from the right half of the chicken!”

Me: “Uh… I don’t really know how to tell if a drumstick is from the left or the right. Maybe a breast, but…”

Customer: “No! I don’t want anything left going inside my body!”

Manager: “Sir, are you high?”

Customer: *Stares into nothing for a very long time.* “I might be.”