An older lady comes in.

Customer: “I want to order to-go, and I want a burger, a soup, and a salad, all for ten bucks.”

Me: *Politely* “There is no way I can do that all for under ten bucks.”

Customer: *Insistent* “Try!”

I have been working here for six years, so I try everything I know how to do and finally figure something out.

Me: “I can just do a plain, straight-forward burger, sub the soup instead of fries, and charge you for a side salad, which brings your grand total to twelve dollars and some change.”

Customer: “No. That’s not good enough. I need the full dinner salad, [one of the bigger burgers], and a bowl of soup.

The salad she wants would be about eight bucks, the burger would be about nine bucks, and the bowl of soup would be another three or four bucks. I explain all these prices to her.

Customer: *Frustrated* “Just get me the big salad and a burger by itself.”

Me: “That’ll be thirteen dollars.”

Customer: “No! That should be under ten!”

Me: *Now annoyed* “Ma’am, there is no way I can do that.”

She angrily hands me the money, and I give her her change. As soon as I start to walk off…

Customer: “Don’t forget my free chips and queso, because they forgot that last time.”

Me: “We charge for that.”

She scoffs and sits down. A couple of minutes later, she comes back up to the counter AGAIN.

Customer: “What’s the number for the [Restaurant Chain] down the street?”

Trying to be nice, I get my phone out, pull up the number, and write it down for her.

Customer: “Call them and place an order for me.”

Me: “I’m not going to call a business down the street when you have a phone and can do it yourself.”

Customer: “You work here, and I am a customer!”

Me: “But I don’t work there, and I am not your personal assistant.”

Customer: “You’re losing me as a customer!” 

Me: “Some customers are worth losing.”

Related:
The More You Read, The Worse It Gets, Part 8
The More You Read, The Worse It Gets, Part 7
The More You Read, The Worse It Gets, Part 6
The More You Read, The Worse It Gets, Part 5
The More You Read, The Worse It Gets, Part 4

I work at a local tourist spot as a food services supervisor, and we have a few different food outlets in the park. As a supervisor, I’ve had to deal with all kinds of challenging customers, including some that have turned out well (communicating with deaf customers, a Korean group who wanted $200 worth of hamburgers — twice) and not-so-well (a customer who wanted a free bottle of water and screamed at me, an Asian man who accused me of discrimination, a lady who said abusive things because she lost $2 in a vending machine, and all sorts of silly food requests/complaints). Fun times.

One of the dumbest ones I came across, though, was dealt with by a coworker of mine.

Near the very end of the day, a lady came up to our fish and chips window.

Customer: “I want a four-piece chicken strip combo. I want it split four ways for my four children.”

Coworker: “Sure, but since the combo comes with a single small fries, each of those four portions would include just one chicken strip and a few fries.”

He repeats this a couple of times, but she impatiently tells him that’s okay. When she comes to pick up her order:

Customer: *Irate* “What is this?! Each of these portions needs to have at least two strips and a small fries!”

Coworker: “If you’d like eight strips and four small fries, then that will be [higher price].”

Customer: “No! I’m only willing to pay [price of a single combo]! Why are you so incompetent?”

The fish and chips place is in a remote location from the main kitchen, so there is no manager there, and my coworker isn’t about to make her more chicken strips and fries for free, so finally, he tells her:

Coworker: “This outlet is now closed. If you have any more issues, you should take it up with the manager.”

The customer left as he closed the shutter, but then she came around to the side door of the building and screamed at him some more. Even when they closed the door, she waited for them and followed them across the park when they walked back to the main kitchen… where they were able to meet up with the manager and she was asked to leave the park. 

We don’t allow meal-splitting anymore; if customers want something split, we’ll give them plates and knives and they can do their own portions.

A bunch of teens are buying concessions.

Teen #1: *Politely.* “Excuse me, miss. What’s in your popcorn?”

Before I can answer the other teens verbally pounce on him.

Teen #2: “Oh my god, how can you be so dumb!”

Teen #3: “It’s corn, you idiot!”

Me: “Well, yes, corn.”

Teen #2: “Ha! Told you!”

Me: “And sunflower oil…”

Teen #2: “Wait, what?”

Me: “…butter…”

Teen #2: “Wait, stop.”

Me: “…salt…”

Teen #2: “Stop! It’s just corn!”

Me: “…yellow artificial colors number five, which is called Tartrazine according to this list…”

The original teen, vindicated, turns back to me.

Teen #1: *Politely.* “Thank you, I’m not allergic to any of those. A large bucket, please!”

Me: “Of course! I’ll upgrade you to the refill bucket on the house for being so polite!”

Teen #2: “Can I get one too?”

I charged that little f***er full price.

Manager: “I need you to come in tomorrow; we’ve had some call-outs.”

Me: “No can do. As soon as I finish my shift tonight my parents are picking me up and we’re driving out-of-state to my uncles for July 4^th.”

Manager: “Well then I give you permission to call your parents to let them know you can’t make it.”

Me: “Uh… no, that’s not possible. I booked this off with [Boss] last Christmas. I had to work all of Christmas so he said I could take three days off over July 4^th.”

Manager: “Well [Boss] isn’t here right now, I am, and you either come in tomorrow or you don’t come in at all.”

Me: “You realize that’s not the flex you think it is, right?”

Manager: “What do you mean?”

Me: “I am eighteen years old, living at home, and leaving for college after the summer. This job, to be blunt, means nothing to me. It simply pays minimum wage for my video games. You’re making me choose between this job and a nice weekend with my family that was promised to me, you’re not going to come out of the winning end of that argument.”

Manager: “But… we don’t have anyone to cover!”

Me: “You’re paid a manager’s salary to deal with a manager’s problems, my dude! Let me know before the end of my shift if I’m coming back after the weekend or not!”

Turns out the manager wanted to take the day off and go to the beach. He had to stay and work all weekend while I enjoyed my break and was welcomed back by the boss on my return. I stayed working there until college!

Related:
Minimum Wage Warrants Minimum Commitment

I work at a twenty-four-hour fast food place during high school that’s literally across the street from a college campus. The students take full advantage of our late hours.

One night, this group of four very drunk college guys come into the lobby and annoyingly take forever to order and eat. In all the ways you can be an annoyingly drunk, they are. I’m trying to be respectful and ignore them while I’m serving other college students (who are probably also drunk but not as obnoxious). Finally, the loudest one in the group of four spills his drink all over the floor, at least a five-foot-by-five-foot area.

I say excuse me to the person whose order I’m taking, walk to the back, and come back up front with a mop. Without saying a word, I look this kid in the eyes and hold the mop straight out to him. After a few seconds of staring at me through his drunken stupor, he must realize I am fed up; he takes it and drunkenly mops it all up himself.

At some point, we all snap a little bit.