Not Always Right on Facebook Not Always Right on Twitter Not Always Right Unfiltered on Tumblr
Featured Story:
  • Motherly Advice To Mother
    (1,605 thumbs up)
  • September Theme Of The Month: Return Of The Geeks!
    Submit your story today!

    The Proof Is In The Toppings

    | Georgia, USA | Food & Drink, Top

    (I’m working at a popular sandwich chain during a busy dinner rush. Two men, one of which is much older than the other, approach the counter. The younger man orders two footlongs while the older one hangs back, so I figure they are for the both of them. After I finish, I attempt to move on to the next customer.)

    Older Customer: “EXCUSE ME, are you just gonna f***in’ skip me?”

    Me: “Oh, I’m sorry, I thought your order was finished. What can I get for you?”

    Older Customer: “I want two footlong clubs on white bread, double meat.”

    (I get the bread out, cut it, and realize that the kind of sandwich he requested has slipped my mind.)

    Me: “Sir, can you remind me what kind of sandwiches you wanted?”

    Older Customer: “I JUST f***in’ told you.”

    Me: “I’m sorry, it’s just been a very long day, sir. It slipped my mind. I remember you wanted double meat, though.”

    Older Customer: “I ain’t holdin’ your hand, little girl. You better remember f***in’ quick.”

    (Luckily for me, the younger man steps in, looking apologetic, and tells me.)

    Older Customer: “What’re you doin’? These monkeys need to learn better!”

    (I remain quiet and begin making the sandwiches. Note: a regular club sandwich is made with four slices turkey folded, fourslices roast beef folded, and two slices of ham laid flat. To save time, I usually take two slices of meat together and add them like that, as is the case here.)

    Older Customer: “That’s not double meat.”

    Me: “Yes it is, sir…”

    (I explain the sandwich formula to him and show the amount of meat on the bread.)

    Older Customer: “It doesn’t look like double meat to me.”

    Me: “I’ve already shown you that it is, sir.”

    Older Customer: “Double meat means double meat!”

    Me: “I gave you double meat. I’ve already explained that.”

    Older Customer: “DOUBLE MEAT MEANS DOUBLE GODD*** MEAT!”

    (Suddenly, my coworker running the register jumps in, pulls our sandwich-making reference sheet off the sneeze-guard, and shoves it in the older customer’s face.)

    Coworker: “As you can see, sir, this is the proper formula for a club. Why don’t we just make sure your sandwich has exactly double of that?”

    (My coworker grabs a piece of deli paper and, piece by piece, disassembles the sandwich while loudly counting the slices and then places them on the paper. The older customer looks very embarrassed, while everyone in line who isn’t pissed off is snickering wildly—even his young companion.)

    Older Customer: “OKAY! OKAY! I BELIEVE YOU! JUST MOVE ON!”

    Coworker: “Are you sure? I could count it again if you aren’t.”

    Older Customer: *mumbles* “D*** b****es!”

    (On the plus side, he kept completely silent for the rest of the transaction with his head down.)