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    I Scream, You Scream, We All Scream…

    , | Pinehurst, NC, USA |

    Customer: “Oh, look at all this yummy gelato!”

    Me: “Yes ma’am, the front row is gelato and the back row is ice cream.”

    Customer: “Okay, I want butter pecan.”

    (Butter pecan is in the back row, so it’s an ice cream. I scoop it for her.)

    Customer: “Well, this is just delicious. Do you have any regular ice cream and not gelato?”

    Me: “Yes ma’am. Like I said before, the back row is ice cream.”

    Customer: *stops eating suddenly* “What? But I wanted gelato!”

    Me: “Ma’am, I told you which ones were the gelatos. I can get you something else.”

    Customer: “But, but, but I wanted gelato!”

    Customer’s husband: “Quit your b****in’, I’ll eat it at home.”

    Related:
    Catastrophe Averted

    A Method To The Madness

    , | St. Catharines, ON, Canada |

    Me: “Hi there, welcome to [fast food restaurant], how can I help you?”

    Customer: “Yeah, I’d like a chicken nugget kids meal.”

    Me: “Alrighty then, what would you like to drink?”

    Customer: “Sweet and sour.”

    Me: “Okay ma’am, but what would you like to drink?”

    Customer: “I just told you, I want sweet and sour with my nuggets!”

    Me, catching on to their game: “Okay… what would you like to dip?”

    Customer: “Coke!”

    Ah, Love/Hate Relationships

    , | Rolla, MO, USA |

    (A customer calls our restaurant over a supposed sandwich issue…)

    Customer: “Yeah, I think someone spit or drooled in my sandwich.”

    Me: “Oh? I’m sorry to hear that sir. Did you see the employee spit in your sandwich?”

    Customer: “It was the guy with the green hair. Well, I think. My fiancee saw him do it.”

    Me: “I’m sorry to hear that, sir. Bring the sandwich in and we’ll replace it or issue you a refund.”

    Customer: “I can’t. My fiancee told me what she saw after we ate our sandwiches.”

    Me: “I’m sorry, sir. Store policy requires for you to return a portion of the item purchased.”

    Customer: “But he spit in it!”

    Me: “Are you sure that the sandwich is what you should be concerned about? I mean, she did let you eat the whole thing.”

    Customer: *click*

    My Parents Threatened To Do This Monthly

    | Chicago, IL, USA |

    (I worked at a sandwich place. The order area had a counter. A man walks in carrying his year old child, and sets the child on the counter.)

    Man: “Do you guys take trades?”

    Carrie 3: Disaster In The Deli

    , | Choctaw, OK, USA |

    Me: “Hi, welcome to [restaurant], what can I get get you?”

    Customer: “Yeah, which of these sandwiches are five dollars?”

    Me: “Just these eight behind me.”

    (I point to a very large sign that has a giant “5″ on it and a list of our five dollar footlong subs.)

    Customer: “Oh, okay…”

    (She gives me the order of three subs and I make them.)

    Me: “Okay, that’ll be $20.47.”

    Customer: “What?! Why the h*** are they that expensive? You said that they were five dollars!!”

    (By this time all the yelling she’s doing has turned her face blood red: this is important for later in the story.)

    Me: “Well yes, those eight over there. All three of the ones you ordered are not.”

    Customer: “That’s not true! I got them off the board you told me about!”

    (She points at the board NEXT to the one I talked about which lists our six inch subs.)

    Me: “No, ma’am, that’s our six inch board. The one next to it with the GIANT FIVE on it are the five dollar subs.”

    Customer: “Well, aren’t you a f***ing carnival weasel! You said those were five dollars!”

    Me: “I’m sorry for the misunderstanding–wait, did you just call me a carnival weasel?”

    Customer: “YOU HEARD ME, CAAARNIVAAL WEEASELLLL!”

    Me: “Alright. Well, ma’am, I’m getting a line here so would you just like me to remake your sandwiches so we can move?”

    Customer: “F*** YOU!”

    (She suddenly gets a massive nose bleed which gets all over the counter and the floor. As she storms out cursing and bleeding, the customers applaud and even help me clean it up before ordering. )

    Coworker: “She called you a carnival weasel!”

    Me: “Yeeeaah. Well, have fun with that…”

    (I still see that lady every now and then come up to the door, see me, turn around and leave.)

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