I’m working in a fast food restaurant. A guy steps up and makes an order. Everything seems to go fine until:

Me: “That will be €12.55, please.”

Man: “What is your problem?”

Me: “I’m sorry?”

Man: *Mocking voice* “’€12.55’… What’s with the attitude?”

I try to give an extra polite edge.

Me: “Your total comes to €12.55, sir.”

Man: “You seem to have a chip on your shoulder. Maybe you shouldn’t be working customer service if you have such a bad attitude.”

Me: “All right, then. So, your total is €12.55.” *Taking his money* “Thank you very much.”

Man: “Snatch the money out of my hands. Real professional.”

I start putting together his meal.

Man: “I wanted two large Cokes with that!”

Me: “You said, ‘A large Coke.’”

He picks up two straws from the tray.

Man: “What does that mean? Or were you just too stupid to ask if I meant two drinks instead? Pay attention to what’s going on around you!”

I ring up an additional drink and give him the total.

Man: “You know, if I recall correctly, they used to cost [price].”

Me: “I’ve only been working here for a couple of months, but as far as I know, this is what they cost.”

Man: “Ah-huh. Right. So, you’re not lying to me about the price and trying to pocket the money yourself.”

The manager suddenly pops up from behind me, forcefully bumps me out of the way, and then proceeds to swipe her access card through the register, cancel the previous order, and remove a refund for the customer from the till. She slaps the money down forcefully on the counter and removes the customer’s drink from his tray.

Manager: “Take your crap somewhere else. [My Name], move on to the next customer.”

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I’m working in a fast food restaurant. A parent brings their child to the counter. There’s a long line behind them.

Parent: “Tell the worker what you want, honey.”

The kid hems and haws for ages, holding up the line. They finally speak.

Child: “Can I have [item]?”

Parent: “Oh, honey, you don’t want that!”

I have really bad anxiety and I hate confrontation. I avoid it as much as I can.

One day, a customer threw their food at me yelling that it was wrong. They were known to do this, but the store owner refused to ban them. I had had enough.

Me: “YOU KNOW WHAT?! F*** YOU! F*** YOUR SALAD! EVERYTHING IS ALWAYS WRONG TO YOU! I’M TOO TIRED TO DEAL WITH THIS EVERY FRIDAY DURING LUNCH! LEAVE!”

I was lectured by the store owner.

Me: “Well, thank God tomorrow will more than likely be my last day. You don’t stand up for any of us.”

Then, I clocked out without doing my side work and went home. I quit the next day.

I was working at a fast food restaurant. In between orders, I stepped away from my register to take a food item to a customer. While heading back to my register, a customer whistled at me and snapped his fingers.

Customer: “Go bring my daughter a straw!”

Whistling or snapping your fingers at me is the number-one offense that will have me imagining doing things to you that would leave me both unemployed and in front of a judge.

Me: “Straws are right over there; help yourself!”

I thought it was over until about five minutes later. I was in the middle of taking someone’s order when the whistling customer walked up, slapped his hand down loudly on the counter, and yelled:

Customer: “EXCUSE ME!”

Startled, all eyes turned to him as he continued to yell.

Customer: “I said, I want a straw for my daughter!”

I was tired of being pushed around by customers, so I repeated:

Me: “They are right over there!”

The customer that I was in the middle of serving predictably got irritated and snapped:

Customer #2: “Get it yourself! I’m on my lunch hour here giving an order!”

Customer: “No, I asked him to get it and he walked off like an a**!”

A loud argument broke out between the two until the manager ended up putting them out. [Customer #2] was let back in after we all explained he didn’t instigate the altercation.

I work very long hours and often don’t get to leave until well into the evening. There are only two fast food places open by the time I leave, so about once a week, I stop at one of them for a bite to eat and a drink before driving twenty minutes home to treat myself. The last couple of times I’ve stopped at the one place, my (very simple) order, a bacon cheeseburger meal, has been wrong. Once it had no cheese, and the last few times it had no bacon. I called and let them know each time it happened via voicemail, but I never got calls back, just ate and went home to bed. I skipped that restaurant for a few weeks because of this, but I get off work earlier than usual one day and have my family with me, so they decide they want food from that restaurant.

I order my usual at the drive-thru: a bacon cheeseburger with onion rings and an iced tea.

Cashier: “We don’t have onion rings here.”

This restaurant is known for its onion rings, so I am pretty shocked but get just the burger and drink.

Me: “The last few times I’ve come in, I haven’t gotten the bacon on my burger. Can you please make sure it is made properly?”

She assures me she will and I go to the window and pay. By the time I get my food, my daughter is starting to fuss, so we hop on the road toward home. I have a weird feeling, so about five minutes down the road, I ask my husband to check the food. His burger, fine. My daughter’s kids’ meal, fine. My burger? A patty on a bun and nothing else. I’m frustrated, as the bacon cheeseburger is almost $4 more than the regular, plain hamburger, and this has happened several times now. I turn around and drive back, go inside, and ask for a refund. The manager opens the burger.

Manager: “This is how you asked for it.”

I say no and show my receipt, which says, “[Burger], + bacon $1.89, + cheese $1.89.” She looks around and starts speaking in another language to the lady working in the kitchen.

Me: “Can I get a refund, please?”

Manager: “We are sold out of bacon.”

She just stands there staring at me as several seconds pass.

Me: “So… can I get a refund, then?”

She rolls her eyes, shoves cash at me, and then sarcastically says:

Manager: “Soooorry, but like I said, we are out of bacon!”

I don’t work there, so how am I supposed to know they’re out of bacon? The cashier had no problem telling me they were out of onion rings. Why was bacon such a struggle, and why was it my fault? Oh, well.