As a summer job, I used to work the midnight-to-8:00-am shift at a popular twenty-four-hour fast food place. On quiet weekdays, I usually worked alone, which suited me perfectly.

One night when I clocked in, my manager was waiting to introduce me to my new trainee. I later heard from the day shift that [Trainee] was a friend of the manager and needed a job because he was on probation, but [Trainee] and I never really talked other than for me to tell him how to clean and for him to tell me that he knew a better way.

The way I showed him to clean the sidewalk along the front of the store was to hose it off, scrub it as necessary with a stiff push broom, and then hose it off again.

But [Trainee] knew a better way.

A few nights later, I was cleaning the grill and heard a crash and a muffled obscenity. I looked out the window to see that [Trainee] had been mopping the sidewalk and as he had lifted the mop to put it into the wringer, he had smashed the broom handle through some fairly expensive overhead neon lights.

He swept up the broken glass and disappeared into the manager’s office for the last couple of hours of our shift.

Fine with me.

As usual, the manager came in while I was busy serving breakfasts and disappeared into his office with [Trainee].

When I clocked out, [Manager] called me into his office to discuss the consequences of my having broken the neon lights.

I probably shouldn’t have smiled, because that triggered a lecture about trivializing the damage.

I pointed out that only an idiot would use the mop on the sidewalk. I looked at [Trainee], who looked at the floor.

I pointed out that [Trainee] is dangerously stupid and dishonest, so I would never have left him alone inside the store while I went outside long enough to clean the sidewalk.

I pointed out that only one of us still had glass fragments in his hair, and that it wasn’t me.

Regardless, [Manager] told me that he had no choice but to fire me for negligent damage to the store.

I told him that, since I was going back to school in two weeks and was tired of working with liars and idiots, I was absolutely fine with leaving him with [Trainee] as his graveyard shift.

I guess tradition requires me to say that the franchise went bankrupt the next month, but in all honesty, I never looked back.

I am in a mall with my brother. We pass by a burger place.

Brother: “Oh, wait! I need to do something real quick.”

Me: “But we just ate.”

Brother: “No, they owe me a refund.”

He takes out an old burger from his backpack.

Brother: “They didn’t put cheese on my cheeseburger, so I called to complain. They said to bring it in for a refund.”

Me: “That burger looks… really bad. How long has it been in your bag?”

Brother: “Hmm, about three weeks.”

Me: “Dude! They’re not going to refund that!“

He goes in anyway and later comes out smiling.

Brother: “They complained that the bun was mouldy, but they couldn’t argue with the lack of cheese!”

Me: “Hello, thank you for calling [Fast Food Place].”

Customer: “I just got a burrito from your place, and it was cold and terrible. I want a refund.”

Me: “I’m sorry that that happened to you. If you can bring in your receipt, we can go ahead and remake that for you.”

Customer: “I can’t do that; I’m in Wyoming.”

That’s at least fifty miles away.

Me: “So, you bought your burrito here in Colorado and drove home to Wyoming, and it was cold?”

Customer: “Yes, and I want a refund.”

I handed the call to a manager as I couldn’t deal with that much stupid that day.

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Thermodynamics, You Take It From Here, Part 9
Thermodynamics, You Take It From Here, Part 8
Thermodynamics, You Take It From Here, Part 7

Yesterday, I decided I wanted [Fast Food Chain]. I typically order on the app because it makes it easier to get everything right. If you’ve used the app or any app before, you know that all you do is order, pay, and drive there to pick it up.

I ordered my heavily modified combo box as usual. (I kid; it usually is no lettuce or tomatoes, add beans, etc.) My wife ordered two things, as well. I drove down the road for five minutes, got in the drive-thru line, and pulled up to the ordering kiosk.

Me: “I have a mobile order for Nathan.”

Employee #1: “Okay. Just come to the window.”

I went to the window, and one of the guys stared at me through the window for a minute. When he finally opened it:

Employee #1: “Steve?”

Me: “No. It’s Nathan.”

Employee #1: “Oh. Okay. Here.”

He handed me my drink.

Employee #1: “Your food will be out soon. Have you already paid for it?”

Me: *Politely* “Yes. That’s how the app works as far as I know.”

Employee #1: “I’m sorry, but I’m new.”

Me: “Yeah, no worries. You’ll get it.”

And he disappeared back into the window. A few minutes later, a different guy came to the window and silently and sternly handed me a bag of food.

Employee #2: “Here you go.”

Me: “Oh. Okay. Thank you.”

Because I’m me, and because I have food allergies, I immediately pulled over to check the bag. And it was a good thing I did because every single item was wrong — not “wrong” as in made incorrectly but “wrong” as in a completely different order. None of the items in the bag were correct except for some nacho fries. I figured, “Okay. No problem. I’ll just go inside and tell them.”

So, I went inside and spoke to the guy behind the counter.

Me: “Hey, man. I don’t think a single thing in here is right. I don’t think this is my order.”

Employee #3: “Wait… What was the name on the order?”

Me: “It’s Nathan.”

Employee #3: “Okay.”

And he walked off. The manager walked up and ripped his gloves off angrily.

Manager: “I’m sorry, what did you say the order name was?”

Me: “It was Nathan.”

Manager: “And what was the problem?”

Me: “Well, none of the items in the bag are what I ordered.”

Manager: *In an accusing voice* “I haven’t even started making Nathan yet!”

Me: “Okay? Well—”

Manager: “So, you just grabbed somebody’s order off the counter?”

Me: *Squinting* “What? No. I—”

Manager: “Did they even call your name before you took the bag?”

Me: “No. I didn’t get this from inside—”

Manager: “Then where did you get it from?!”

Me: *Pointing* “The drive-thru… They gave me my drink, and then they gave me a bag of food after a while.”

The manager was still angry at me for some reason.

Manager: “Well, I haven’t even started making Nathan yet!”

Me: “Yes. You mentioned that. But I didn’t hand myself the food, sir.”

Manager: “Well then, who gave it to you?!”

The two guys from the window stared at me from far off behind him, terrified.

Me: “Dude… I have partial face blindness. I have no idea who gave it to me. All I know is that someone at the window gave me a drink, and someone else gave me a bag of food.”

Manager: “Well, all I’m saying is that I haven’t even started making Nathan yet.”

Me: “That’s… great… I can wait at the counter for you to make my food.”

He walked away. After a few minutes, he returned, clearly still thinking I had some kind of master plant to screw over my local [Fast Food Chain].

Manager: “Here is your food.”

Me: *Thoroughly done with the night* “I appreciate it…”

…whatever this was.

Editors’ Note: Special thanks to Growing Up Autie – A Comic By Nathan McConnell for this story!

I’m cooking on the supper rush, the board is packed, the orders keep coming in, and the parking lot can’t fit even one more car. My coworker calls out order number eighty-four. They pick up their food.

A man comes to the window and talks to my coworker.

Customer: “I don’t want to wait. You just called out order eighty-four, and mine is eighty-nine. I want my money back.”

I come to the window and my coworker takes over the fryers.

Me: “What’s the problem, sir?”

Customer: “You’re on number eighty-four, and mine was eighty-nine. I don’t want to wait; I want my money back.”

Me: “Well, I’m sorry to hear that, sir, but at any restaurant you go to, you’ll have to wait for food.”

Customer: “Well, I’m leaving. I want my money back.”

Me: “Okay, sir, I’ll give you a refund.”

I start punching in the refund.

Customer: “Just give me twenty-one dollars.”

Me: “I have to find your bill and process the refund properly or the cash will not balance tonight, and I could lose my job.”

Customer: “No, you won’t. There will be more money in it.”

I am finishing up punching in the refund.

Customer: “Oh, my God, just give me twenty, then!”

Me: “Excuse me, sir, I understand that the customer is always right, but you’ve decided you no longer wish to be my customer, so now, I’m right. And I will do this my way.”

I hand him his cash.

Me: “Have a nice day, sir, and please, next time, take your business elsewhere.”