Dysfunctional Doppelgangers

, | Cooby, Australia | Uncategorized

(An old, drunken man stumbles in to our fast food restaurant.)

Me: “Hello, how are you tonight sir?”

(He stumbles to the front counter, leans over, and stares intently at my name badge.)

Me: “Umm, can I help you?”

Drunken customer: *reads my badge* “Tahiiinaaa..”

Me: “…yes?”

Drunken customer: “That’s a really pretty name. I want your name. Sell me your name!”

Me: “Sorry, I can’t sell you my name… do you want some chicken?”

Drunken customer: “I. WANT. YOUR. NAME!”

(Suddenly, the drunken guy lunges over the counter and rips my badge off of my shirt and runs out of the store laughing.)

Me, to my manager: “I think I need a new shirt…”

Too Much Information, Part 6

| Delaware, USA | Uncategorized

(I’m cleaning up several tables at a restaurant and overhear this conversation between three customers.)

Female Customer #1: “…porn star. You can’t be shy about it! There’s not being shy if you’re just going to be a porn star, anyway.”

Female Customer #2: “Yeah! What’re you working with, anyway?”

Male Customer: *gets up and faces table, hands moving towards jeans*

Me: *abandons tasks and leaves section immediately*

Related:
Way, Way, Way Too Much Information
Way, Way Too Much Information
Way Too Much Information
TMI Redux
TMI (Too Much Information)

When In Rome (Or An Indian Restaurant)…

| Southampton, UK | Uncategorized

Me: “Did you enjoy your meal?”

Customer: “No, the madras was hot.”

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry it wasn’t to your liking, but madras is a hot dish.”

Customer: “No, no it’s not. Madras is a mild dish. It’s mild.”

Me: “Okay, but if I check with the chef, he’ll tell me we serve it as a hot dish.”

Customer: “What would he know? He’s Indian! What would he know about curry?”

Related:
When In Rome (Or A Kosher Deli)

Always Right, Especially When It’s Mom

, | Buffalo, NY, USA | Uncategorized

Coworker: “Guys! There’s a car pulled in backwards in the drive-thru. They’re backwards!”

Backwards customer: “Hi, I just want a fish sandwich and a chocolate milk shake.”

Coworker: “I’m sorry. We don’t have those items. Is there something else I can get you?”

Backwards customer: “No, I just want a fish sandwich and a chocolate milk shake!”

Coworker: “Ma’am, do you realize you’re at [Mexican fast food restaurant]? Would you like a taco?”

Backwards customer: “Okay, okay, we’re kidding! Alice, this is your mom and Aunt Marie!”

(I happen to be Alice. Family are the worst customers!)

A Number 666 With A Side Of Brimstone

, | Newfoundland, Canada | Uncategorized

(After serving them their fast food, a woman with a family of six runs up to the counter, furious.)

Customer: “You! You stacked our food wrong! Now my kids are crying!”

Me: “Pardon?”

Customer: “Come look!”

(She brings me down to their table, where their three pre-teens are crying their eyes out and her husband looks incredibly frustrated.)

Customer: “Look!”

Me: “Ma’am, I don’t see anything wrong with your food–”

Customer: “[Child #1] is supposed to eat first, but his food is on the bottom! We won’t be able to get it without moving the other things!”

Me: “I don’t think I understand.”

Customer: “He’s the first person on the left! He has to eat first, or Satan will claim his soul!”

Me: “Uh…”

(I decide to ask counter-clockwise around the table what everyone ordered, and hand them their food out off the pile.)

Customer:, “Oh, thank you! You will serve as a warrior of God someday!”

Me: “…right.”

(That family still shows up once a month or so, and suffice to say, I always run out to see what order they’re sitting in before I serve their food.)

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