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    Fajita Me Not

    | Boone, NC, USA | Food & Drink

    (I am working to-go service at an chain restaurant. Note that we’re three doors down from another similar chain-restaurant that also has to-go service.)

    Customer: “I’m here to pick up my to-go order.”

    Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am. No one has placed a to-go order with me tonight. When exactly did you call and who did you talk to?”

    Customer: *irate* “I called 10 minutes ago and I talked to you! I recognize your voice. Where is my to-go order?!”

    Me: “Ma’am, my phone hasn’t rung once in two hours. Can you please let me know what you would like? I will have the kitchen rush make it for you.”

    Customer: “I ordered the fajitas. I just talked to you 10 minutes ago, where are my fajitas?!”

    Me: “Ma’am, we don’t have fajitas on the menu here.”

    Customer: “Bulls***! You have them! I ordered them from you 10 minutes ago!”

    Me: “Ma’am, are you sure you didn’t place your to-go order with [restaurant three doors down]? I know that they have fajitas and they also have to-go service.”

    Customer: “No! I talked to you! Where are my fajitas?”

    (This continues for another 10 minutes until finally, I just pick up the phone and call the other restaurant.)

    Me: *on the phone* “Do you have a to-go order under the name [patron] for some fajitas?”

    Other Restaurant: “Yes, we have her order right here. It has just been sitting here getting cold.”

    Me, to Patron: “Ma’am, [restaurant three doors down] has an order under your name for some fajitas.”

    Customer: “Well, I didn’t order from there. Are you guys pulling a prank on me? Just bring me my fajitas!”

    Me: “No, ma’am, you placed your order with other restaurant. The only way you are going to get fajitas is if you go over there and pick them up.”

    Customer: “Well, fine! But just know that I will never eat at this restaurant ever again!” *stomps out the door*

    You’ve Got The Wrongest Number, Part 6

    | Pennsylvania, USA | Rude & Risque, Top

    Me: “We’re making magic here at Ch—”

    Caller: “Sexy voice for a sexy lady, eh?”

    Me: “I’m sorry?”

    Caller: “Yeah, I wanted to ask about some of your ‘prizes’.”

    Me: “Sure? What are you looking for?”

    (He begins to read me a long list of sexual objects and attempts to talk dirty.)

    Me: “Sir, this is highly inappropriate.”

    Caller: “If you’re offended, why do you work at [name of adult store]?”

    Me: “Because I don’t. I think you have the wrong number.”

    Caller: “Who am I talking to then?”

    Me: “[Name] at Chuck E. Cheese.”

    Caller: “Oh…oh my God! I AM SO SORRY!”

    Related:
    You Got The Wrong(est) Number, Part 5
    You Got The Wrong(est) Number, Part 4
    You Got The Wrong(est) Number, Part 3
    You Got The Wrong(est) Number, Part 2
    You Got The Wrong(est) Number

    Not Quite The Pizza Of My Eye

    | USA | Food & Drink

    (I work at a restaurant that sells pizzas that have been “kissed by the flame,” meaning they are cooked in a wood-fired oven. An older gentleman comes up to me at the cash register.)

    Customer: “So, are you going to kiss my pizza?”

    Me: “Excuse me?”

    Customer: “It says the pizzas are kissed!”

    Me: “Oh! That is just the way we cook them. They’re made in a brick oven over a fire.”

    Customer: “Darn it! I was looking forward to something special tonight!”

    Our Great Snootocracy

    | San Diego, CA, USA |

    (A customer in his 70s starts this conversation as I’m serving his food.)

    Customer: “So, how far along in college are you?”

    Me: “I actually already graduated.”

    Customer: “Are you sure? You look too young to have finished college.”

    Me: “I get that all the time. Yes, I graduated early, last semester.”

    Customer: “And you didn’t go to grad school? All you young people are lacking ambition! As soon as you finish school you’re content with taking some dead-end job!”

    Me: “Actually sir, I really wanted to go to law school, but I couldn’t pull the funds together.”

    Customer: “Oh, so you’re poor? Then you stay working here. I don’t want people like you contaminating America’s fine businesses!”

    Manners Matter When You’re Madder

    , | New York, NY, USA | Money

    (An older, unkempt-looking man comes up to my counter.)

    Me: “Hello, and welcome to [restaurant]. Can I take your order, sir?”

    Customer: “Uh, yeah. Sure.”

    Me: “What would you like?”

    Customer: *pauses* “What do you want?”

    Me: “Sir, what would you like to eat?”

    Customer: “Stop rushing me, woman! Let me have some coffee!”

    Me: “I’m sorry, sir. What kind of coffee would you like? We have—”

    (The customer throws a twenty dollar bill on the counter and starts shouting profanities at me and the other customers in the line.)

    Customer: “D*** kids these days! Just give me my f***ing coffee, b****!”

    Me: “I apologize, sir, but I can’t serve you if you don’t tell me what kind of coffee you would like. Unfortunately, you are disrupting the other patrons and I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

    Customer: “I’LL LEAVE ‘CUZ I WANT TO LEAVE!” *leaves in a huff*

    (In his haste, the customer left his twenty dollar bill on the counter. He never returned, so I ended up paying for the next few customers’ meals with the money that he left behind.)


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