Unfiltered Story #96632

(It’s been a long, frustrating day at our fast food restaurant. Things are finally slow but that doesn’t mean I’m in a better mood.)

COWORKER: “Hey, can that [fish sandwich] be made with extra tartar sauce?”

CUSTOMER: (Over coworker’s shoulder, smiling hugely) “Yeah! I like a lot of tartar sauce!”

(I decide to forego the manners I was raised with and be a petty jerk who takes out a day’s frustration on an innocent and seemingly friendly customer. I *DRENCH* the sandwich in tartar sauce. The sandwich already has a lot on it as it is, but I put 6-7 times more on there than that. It’s a sloppy, goopy, tartary mess that I bitterly wrap up in the wrapper and hand off to the front line. As the evening continues to stay slow for the next 15-20 minutes, my mood slowly improves and I start to regret my jerk move. Then I see the customer heading for the door and her eye catches mine, and she smiles just as hugely as before.)

CUSTOMER: “THANK YOU FOR THE SANDWICH! IT WAS PERFECT!”