My fast food job is right by a beach that hosts festivals all the time. One day, after some problems with homeless people abusing the bathroom, we are instructed to only let customers who bought something use it. (I don’t always enforce it for kids, pregnant women, etc.)

One day, the biggest festival of the year is happening, and we are all scrambling to get ready for the rush when the festival ends. (The line out the door often lasts until 2:00 am.) At around 9:00 pm, a man who looks surprisingly like Elton John comes in and asks to use the restroom.

Me: “Of course, although you do need to purchase something first.”

I recommend our cheapest item (under a dollar). He gets super pissed but does eventually buy it.

Probably fifteen minutes later, the man walks up and slaps a $100 dollar bill onto the counter.

Man: “This is for the rest of the customers tonight to use the bathroom. You’re a bad person and should feel bad.”

Then, he walked out the door.

My manager told me that I could take the money as a tip, but I decided to split it with the rest of the crew. We did end up letting most people use the bathroom without paying simply because of how busy that night was.

My family and friends enjoy fast food, and one particular burger place is a staple. There are several locations around us, but the most convenient one is just up the street. That location is cursed. Random things always happen whenever we go there. I once had a gentleman knock on my window while I was ordering and ask if I liked my car. You get the drift.

My girlfriend and I arrive at around 8:00 pm one night to purchase food. It is right around a specific Irish holiday, and the restaurant is selling a milkshake that is green and minty. I order one to try it as I have not had one in a very long time.

When we pull up to the window to pay, the cashier repeats the order back to us. She stops at the milkshake and exclaims:

Cashier: “UGH, you drink this? It is disgusting!”

Me: *A bit taken aback* “Not yet, but I wanted to try it. Is it that bad?”

Cashier: “I drank a shot of the syrup earlier and it was disgusting.”

Me: *Stunned* “That is concentrated mint! Of course it is going to taste like crap.”

Cashier: *Handing me our food* “Oh. I guess that makes sense. Maybe I will have to try it normal.”

I just shook my head and left.

The shake tasted like crap, by the way, which is odd because I love mint.

Years ago, when I used to work at a fast food drive-thru, I developed an odd muscle memory tic. I was a gamer, so I wore a headset and often used a function called Push-To-Talk when in voice channels with my friends. Basically, I would push a button so that I could be heard and release the button when I didn’t want to be heard. This stopped background noise from coming through, but it also meant I had to push the button to be heard.

One night, while chatting with my friends, I realized they couldn’t hear me despite the fact I was sure I was pressing the button. It wasn’t until my husband came over and tapped me on the shoulder to point out what I was doing that I realized I was trying to push a button on my headphones — about the same location the button was on my drive-thru headset at work.

Embarrassed, I pressed the button on my keyboard, apologized to my friends that I hadn’t been present in the conversation, and explained what had happened. They didn’t stop giving me grief about it for a solid few years, even long after I lost that job.

I work for a fast food joint. We serve burgers and sandwiches. One popular “menu hack” is to order a cheeseburger without the patty to get a grilled cheese. We have the freedom to put extra cheese on these sandwiches, and the owner of the franchise encourages it.

We’re a bit short-staffed today, but it’s also an abnormally quiet day, so I’m holding down both the drive-thru and the lobby.

A guy comes through our drive-thru.

Customer: “Cheeseburger, hold the patty, with tomato, no onion, and extra lettuce.”

Simple, right? We prep it for him and serve it to him. The guy tips us $20. That’s a bit weird.

A little later he SLAMS his way into the lobby.

Customer: “Hey! Where are my drugs, man?!”

Me: “Uh… What?”

Customer: “My drugs! I put in the order correctly! You took my $20. Where are my drugs?!”

Me: “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Customer: “Bulls***. Ryan said that if I ordered a cheeseburger, hold the patty, with tomato, no onions, and extra lettuce, you’d slip me a baggy of weed. I paid you $20 for that baggy of weed!”

Me: “No one named Ryan even works here! I don’t know anyone named Ryan! I don’t understand what you’re going on about!”

I start hyperventilating. I don’t know if the guy is armed or not, but I have a sinking feeling he probably is. This gives him pause. He looks around the restaurant suspiciously.

Customer: *Sheepishly* “Oh. Wrong place.”

There are a few moments while he stands there thinking then.

Customer: “I still want my $20 back, though, you hear?”

Me: “I need a manager to refund something like that, and you’d have to explain the whole story to him. Do you really want to do that? He might call the cops or something.”

“Hopefully,” I thought to myself, “he already has.”

The guy turned around and left. After he was out the door, I walked to the back and demanded someone come and take over the front for a bit, as I desperately needed to go on break.

The cops did show up later, I gave a short statement, and the manager showed them the video from our security feed. I never heard anything more about it.

I wonder what place he mistook us for?

I work at a well-known fast food chain as an opening manager. This morning, I was in the order-taking and cashier role in the drive-thru. I was taking a person’s order at the speaker box. She was taking a bit longer to order than some, so the driver behind her pulled out of line. (I saw this on our CCTV.) I thought she was simply leaving, but instead, she pulled up to my window and demanded:

Customer: “Get me coffee!”

I could have helped her, and I would have if she’d asked politely, but instead:

Me: “Sorry, ma’am, but you need to get back in line.”

By this point, there were two more cars ahead of her. She actually did get back in line, and when she got to the speaker, she didn’t wait for me to greet her. She simply shouted her demand.

I went through my usual greeting spiel, as an attempt to “train” the customer, and she demanded her coffee. I gave her the total and went on to the next car. When she got to my window to pay, she didn’t want to wait as I took another driver’s order. She placed her money (thankfully, exact change) on the donation box outside the window and drove off.

Look, lady, I’m sorry you’re running late, but kindness still pays.