I’m serving the after-church crowd on a Sunday afternoon. My lot usually aren’t as bad as some of the other stories I read on this site (mine usually tip… with MONEY!), but this one family seems to always set out to be a problem.

Dad Customer: “I ordered the club sandwich and fries, but the fries are cold! Remake them!”

Mom Customer: “This clam chowder is way too creamy! And why don’t you serve it in a bread bowl like they do out west?!”

Teen Customers: “Why don’t you have chicken nuggets!? We don’t want fried chicken with the bones!”

And so on. They would always find some way to justify not leaving a tip due to the “bad service”.

Until one glorious Sunday, when they were in their usual mid rant:

Dad Customer: “You’d think after weeks of our helpful suggestions your chefs would know how much cheese is appropriate for a cheeseburger, but no, instead—”

Other Customer: “[Dad Customer’s Name]?”

Dad Customer: *Freezes mid-rant, turns to see the other customer, an older gentleman, staring at him.* “Uh… hello Father.”

Other Customer: “I thought I recognized your voice. You’re always so vocal about my sermons in church that I knew it was you from the other side of the restaurant.”

Dad Customer: “Yes, uh… well…”

Other Customer: “I hope today’s sermon about being loving and compassionate carries over into everyday life. For example, I know the workers here are mostly young adults trying to keep up with the rent. It would be a wonderful show of how well you took to heart the scriptures I mentioned by leaving them a healthy tip.”

Dad Customer: “Yes, I…”

Other Customer: “I mean, since you’re bursting with so many suggestions for these waitstaff, you should follow up such fervor with a corresponding tip, don’t you think, just like I know you do at the church based on how often you remind me how much you put into the donation boxes.”

Dad Customer: “Yes, Father.”

Other Customer: “Good, good!” *Turns to me, speaking loudly.* “Thank you for your excellent service! The food has been impeccable! I think I might come here every Sunday after my service from now on!”

Me: “Thank you… You’d be very welcome!”

Both go back to their meals, and I get zero more “suggestions”. This family tipped for the first time ever (10%)!

It was also their last time ever, as I never saw them come into the place ever again, Sunday or otherwise. I guess since they couldn’t skimp out on the tip at our place anymore, they had to find another place to offer their “helpful suggestions”.

Related:
When They Wear Their Sunday Best Expect The Sunday Worst, Part 4
When They Wear Their Sunday Best Expect The Sunday Worst, Part 3
When They Wear Their Sunday Best Expect The Sunday Worst, Part 2
When They Wear Their Sunday Best Expect The Sunday Worst

I used to work in a large toy superstore chain that closed down (you know the one).

I always prided myself on giving excellent customer service, and was always chosen by some customers to be the one to help them because I knew about this.

As we were in the final days of closing down, knowing there was no transfer to a non-closing store (the whole chain was going), some workers took it as a chance to get retail revenge on those who had verbally abused them over the years. Some of them had really earned their revenge.

As for me, I still wanted to give the best possible customer service I could give… until one guy finally made me snap.

I see one of my regular customers trying to do a return with a coworker. He was always pleasant with me because I had given such good service in the past. He’s being curt and angry with my coworker, but as soon as he sees me, he says:

Customer: “[My Name]! He’s one of the good ones! He’ll do it for me!”

Me: *To the Cashier.* “What’s happening?”

Coworker: “Our customer here wants to return a year-old item and get a refund.”

Me: *To the customer.* “I’m sorry, sir, we can’t do that.”

Customer: *Immediately reverting back to anger mode.* “I thought you always prided yourself on your customer service?! I was told this thing had a one-year warranty!”

Me: “That’s the manufacturer’s warranty, sir. I can help you find the manufacturer’s phone number to order a replacement through them directly, as we are closing and there is no system in place for a refund or return anymore.”

Customer: *Livid now.* “You’re never going to forget about me because you didn’t give me the exceptional customer service you live for.”

Me: “I’m sure I won’t forget you, sir. I’ve purchased one of the discounted dart boards from the store, and I’m pretty sure I can draw a decent portrait of your head to stick to it.”

The customer stood there, too stunned to react to my calmly worded response. To be honest, I was a bit stunned too, I didn’t know I had those words in me.

The customer left with his dirty and beaten-up year-old item, and I started leaning into letting some customers know how I really felt in that final week.

I get a call from my boss one morning:

Boss: “I don’t care what the news is saying, you’re coming in today.”

Me: “The news is saying that due to the snowstorm, the government is issuing a stay-at-home order and only essential journeys are necessary.”

Boss: “Driving to work is essential.”

Me: “[Boss], no offense, but no one is going to consider eating deli sandwiches today as essential. Driving on these roads today is a real risk.”

Boss: “You’re coming in and doing your job.”

Me: “No. I am more important than any job. You will have my job posted before my relatives can decide on an obituary. I’m staying home.”

I hung up and enjoyed my weather-induced day off.

I went to work at the deli the next day, and while the boss was nothing but angry stares all day, he didn’t say anything. Someone else had told him it wasn’t a good look to fire someone for not defying a government stay-at-home order.

Customer: “So my grandson said I need to get a stick.”

Me: “A stick?”

Customer: “To put my photos in or something.”

Me: “A memory stick?”

Customer: “Yes.”

Me: “Is this a stick to go into your computer?”

Customer: “I don’t have a computer.”

Me: “Okay, well, we have a lot of memory sticks, but most of them should be fine if you just want to store photos on them. Did your grandson say how big it needed to be?”

Customer: “Size of a thumb.”

Me: “Thumb drive! That’s helpful, but I meant how big the memory needed to be. Did your grandson mention anything like megabytes or gigabytes?”

Customer: “Jiggle beets.”

Me: “A gigabyte, okay. This model here is affordable at only one gigabyte, and it flips between two different types of interface so that it works with almost any computer.”

I demonstrate how the thumb drive has USB-C on one side and a regular USB on the other.

Customer: “And that has all my photos?”

Me: “Well, it will once your grandson helps you to put them on there.”

Customer: “No, my grandson said I would need to come here to get a stick that has all my photos. Where is that?”

Me: “We don’t have any of your photos, ma’am. We just sell the memory sticks. You or your grandson would need to put the photos on there.”

Customer: “So you’re calling my grandson a liar?!”

Me: “I’m… suggesting you call him and ask him to clarify?”

Customer: “Hmph! Fine!”

She gets out her flip-phone and types in a number from memory. She gets through to her grandson, I assume.

Customer: “So I’m at the computer store, and they’re telling me they don’t have the stick with my photos.”

Pause.

Customer: “Oh, well, you didn’t explain that!”

Pause.

Customer: “Fine. But you made me look stupid! The guy here asked how big it needed to be.”

Pause.

Customer: “Fine, I’ll tell him.”

She hangs up and declares to me that she needs four gigabytes, except she mispronounces it again, and instead of saying gigabyte with a ‘g’, she starts it with an ‘n’.

Thank god the store was empty.

Related:

My Head Megahertz, Part 4
My Head Megahertz, Part 3
My Head Megahertz, Part 2
My Head Megahertz

I work in an electronics and home appliances store. I see a customer storm in, walk right up to a display refrigerator, and start pulling out the glass shelving inside them.

Me: “Sir, please be careful with those—”

Without a word, the customer holds the piece of glass above his head and SLAMS it toward the floor. It doesn’t break, maybe thanks to a plastic and rubber border it has around its edges, but it makes one h*** of a racket.

Me: “Sir, please don’t do that!”

Anger in his eyes, he starts toward another refrigerator.

Me: “Sir, stop, or I’ll need to call security!”

As if I am not even speaking, the customer repeats the performance, this time smashing the shelf against the refrigerator door. Luckily for everyone, this one is entirely made of plastic, so it doesn’t break.

My manager and security have already run over to my section (thanks to the noise), and the two burly security guys are able to manually escort the guy outside. They stay with him until the police arrive. 

Nearer the end of the day, another guy comes in and asks for the manager from the get-go.

Me: “I can get him for you, but can I ask the reason you need to speak to him?”

Customer: “I need to know why [Store] discriminates against veterans.”

Oooookay? I call my manager over, who comes by very quickly. The customer identified himself as the brother of the unruly customer we had this morning.

Customer’s Brother: “My brother is a veteran with PTSD, and you had him arrested! How could you be so callous!?”

Manager: “How were we supposed to know that? Also, even if we did, how would that have changed the outcome?”

Customer’s Brother: “You don’t just arrest a veteran who has mental health issues!”

Manager: “Sir, we had someone come into the store and cause damage, despite repeatedly being asked to stop. What should we have done?”

Customer’s Brother: “You should have shown more respect!”

Manager: “Sir, everyone here, myself included, has nothing but respect for the veterans of this country. Your brother has my utmost sympathy, but you have to understand that my workers and I are not trained therapists or medical professionals. Most of them are minimum-wage teenagers still in High School. They do not have the ability or experience to recognize or process PTSD.”

Customer’s Brother: “Then they need better training!”

Manager: “I will take that under consideration, but please note that no one here is trying to discriminate against your brother; we’re just not qualified. Please ensure you or a suitable caretaker is with him for future shopping trips.”

Customer’s Brother: “I’m gonna sue this place for discrimination against the military!”

Manager: “That’s your choice, sir. Your lawyer will be free to review all the video footage from earlier today.”

Customer’s Brother: *Storming out.* “I’m gonna tell everyone that [Store] hates veterans!”

Manager: *To me.* “If he does that, I have a feeling our lawyers will be talking to his before his lawyers are talking to ours.”