Best Of The Decade! 2017
Dear readers,
Welcome back to our walk through the last decade of Not Always Right! We had some fun with 2016 yesterday, today we tackle 2016, the year that Russia became synonymous with American politics, taking a knee was considered treason, and both Moonlight and La-La Land won the best picture Oscar.
It was also the year we published the following highest-voted stories of the year. Enjoy!
10. Every Waitress Is Someone’s Daughter
Fast Food | USA
(I am working as a cashier in a fast-food restaurant, and a customer has been yelling at me because I won’t take his expired coupon. I’m new to the establishment and I’m on the verge of tears. Suddenly, another customer intervenes.)
Customer #2: “You heard the lady! That is not going to work, so leave her alone!”
([Customer #1] turns around as if to lash at him, realizes [Customer #2] is way taller than him and scoots away without another word. [Customer #2] seems angrier than one would expect.)
Me: “Thanks for that, really.”
Customer #2: “My pleasure. The thing is that my daughter’s first job was at [Similar Establishment], and she learned a lot about responsibilities and finances. Do you know what I learned?”
Me: “Uhh… what?”
Customer #2: “I learned that you haven’t felt true fury until the day your little girl comes home crying because some jerk yelled at her on her first day.”
(Customers who care are truly the best.)
9. There Is Dough Reason To Stop
Bakery | USA
(I own a bakery. In the front, but to the side, is an area for me to mix the dough, which has a glass partition just in front of it so people can watch the process. Many people are fascinated by it and will often ask me questions while I work. My associate is waiting on customers and there’s only a couple of people in line. A customer comes up to the glass:)
Customer: “You need to stop playing and come wait on me.”
Me: “First, I’m not ‘playing’; I’m making dough. And second, actually, no, I don’t.”
Customer: “Yes, you do. You’re just being lazy!”
Me: “Lazy? Seriously? Lady, I’m up to my elbows in dough! Now you have two choices: you can either get your happy butt back in line or you can leave.”
Customer: “I WANT YOUR MANAGER, NOW!”
Me: “She’s my manager.” *nods towards my associate*
Customer: *to my associate* “I WANT HER FIRED RIGHT NOW!”
Associate: “I can’t fire her.”
Customer: “WHY NOT?”
Associate: “Because she’s the owner!”
(The customer got red faced, and looked at me. I gave her a little finger wave. She sputtered and stormed out. I hate people who feel they’re entitled.)
8. The Receipt Changed More Than The Oil Did
Auto Repair | Canada
(I’m a female working at a quick oil change shop (the kind you drive through). Although most people aren’t bothered by the fact I’m not a man, it bothers some. I was raised in a family of mechanics and have been wrenching since I was three years old. It’s mid-Friday afternoon right before a long weekend, and we’re slammed, with lines three cars deep on all three bays, and more trying to pull in. Three out of five employees, including myself, are working today, and the owner is sitting in his office, otherwise useless. A woman drives up to the door, so I open it to let her in. She sits in her vehicle staring at me waving her forward, then opens her window.)
Customer: “Can you get one of the guys to guide me in?”
Me: *internal sigh, knowing already she’d be a problem* “Just pull forward. Everyone else is busy.”
Customer: “Okay, then.” *rolls eyes*
(Finally, her vehicle is in and I get her started.)
Me: “What can I do for you t—”
Customer: “Where are the lube guys?”
Me: “Lube technician, and I’m right here. What can I do for you today?”
Customer: “Well, I’m making a 10 hour road trip today and I’m overdue for an oil change, but JUST the oil. I don’t need anything else.”
Me: “Okay, basic oil or synthetic?”
Customer: “Whatever is cheapest.”
(I head down into the pit and start draining the oil. A thick black sludge of what used to be oil starts glooping out, so I go back upstairs to talk to the woman.)
Me: “When did you last have your oil changed?”
Customer: “My sticker says I’m due at 201,000 kms, I’m at 201,353.”
Me: “That has to be a mistake…” *I peer in and look at the sticker, sure enough it says 201k. Her odometer, however, reads 217,353*
Customer: “Yeah, okay, I’m a little over, but just do it.”
Me: “Well, your old oil is now sludge so I’m afraid there could be some more trapped inside. What I can do is run some fresh oil with some cleaner solution that will break up and flush out the old stuff. Normally the flush is $20 plus the oil, but I can put in fresh oil and only charge you for that; the solution I’ll discount to $0.”
Customer: “Yeah, no thanks. I told you I don’t want any extras.”
Me: “Okay, just so you know we won’t honor the warranty on this service since there’s a pre-existing issue.”
Customer: “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Hurry up, I’m running behind.”
(I proceed to complete the oil change and move on to checking tire pressure, washer fluid, etc, a free service we offer all vehicles.)
Me: “Almost finished. Just going to top up your washer fluid and do the final checks.”
Customer: *on the phone now* “Uh huh, hurry up.”
(I look at her coolant reservoir and notice it’s bone dry, not even residue. It’s 36 degrees Celsius outside and that combined with her upcoming road trip worries me.)
Me: “Miss, your coolant reservoir is completely empty. There could be coolant in your rad still, but an empty reservoir doesn’t leave enough room to cycle it out. If you want, I can open the rad and check but your vehicle will need to cool down a bit more.”
Customer: *still on the phone* “No! No more extras! Just the oil!”
Me: “Okay, your total comes to [amount]. As I mentioned due to the state of your oil when you came in, and now with no coolant, our company is voiding the warranty for this service and cannot be held liable for any damage that may occur. You’ll see on your invoice that you refused a flush and refused a coolant check/fill, and at the bottom it states ‘Customer refused checks. Warranty void.’”
Customer: “Good Lord, you exaggerate so much. The GUYS would never take this long. Maybe a GIRL isn’t cut out for this job. Go work at [Restaurant next door] or something!”
(She leaves. Three days later, I can hear the owner in the office sounding frustrated on the phone. He’s pacing back and forth with a worried look. Finally he hangs up the phone and calls me in.)
Me: “What’s up?”
Owner: “That was corporate on the phone. Apparently a service you did wasn’t done properly and the vehicle owner is requesting we replace the engine of the vehicle due to your negligence. I’m looking into it because it sounds really shady.”
Me: “It wouldn’t happen to be a [Year, Make, Model], would it?”
Owner: “Yes… Actually, that’s exactly what it is. So you knew there were issues but didn’t tell her?”
Me: “Quite the opposite, actually.”
(I spend 10 minutes explaining what happened and what the customer said, and made sure to mention the NO WARRANTY I included.)
Owner: “Okay. Well, she’s coming in this evening so we’ll see what’s going on.”
(Later that day, a taxi pulls up and the woman gets out, fuming mad. She comes in and starts SCREAMING right in my face.)
Customer: “YOU! YOU F***** UP MY CAR! A GIRL HAS NO PLACE IN A GARAGE, YOU USELESS IDIOT!”
Owner: “Ma’am, there’s no need for that. Can I see your invoice for the service, please?”
(The customer digs in her bag and hands him a piece of paper. He looks it over and looks at me, obviously upset.)
Owner: “[My Name], you didn’t write any of that information you told me in here.”
Customer: “SHE didn’t tell me ANYTHING! I came in here with a PERFECTLY good car and I get two hours down the road and BOOM! Oil and stuff all over the road and my car won’t even start! I had to pay $400 to get it towed that YOU better reimburse me for! My car needs $4000 in repairs!”
Me: “Huh. That’s interesting.”
Customer: “WHAT are you TALKING about?!”
Me: “I’m surprised it made it two hours with no coolant on the highway in desert temperatures.”
Customer: “Well, I NEVER!”
Owner: “[My Name]… why didn’t you write any notes on this?”
(I grab the invoice and look carefully over it. There’s a strange grey line on the left side of the sheet, but what’s especially concerning is that none of my notes are there, everything says CHECKED – OK, meaning I didn’t advise of any issues. I look a bit closer and see at the bottom “PAGE 1 OF 1” which our printer does not write.)
Me: “Uh, boss? She scanned our invoice and cut-and-pasted stuff onto it. See the grey line? That’s from the scanner. Page 1 of 1 on the bottom? She doesn’t know how to use the word processor to remove footers. Our printer doesn’t print that. And here—” *pointing to a large bright white square over our logo’d background* “—she put a text box over my notes and wrote CHECKED – OK in Comic Sans font. We use Arial.”
(The woman is now red in the face, shaking and sweaty, looking like she could punch me at any moment. I go to our computer system and look up her name, and reprint her original invoice, which as I said, contained all these notes. The woman grunts and screams at the top of her lungs.)
Owner: “Well, that’s a new one. No, we won’t be paying for your repairs OR your tow. You drove a vehicle in nearly 40 degrees with no coolant… What did you think would happen?”
Customer: “SHE DIDN’T TELL ME!”
Owner: “According to this, she did. And this is something that you signed on your copy before you forged it.”
Customer: “How DARE you? I did no such thing! Give me $5000! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MUCH MY CAR IS WORTH?!”
(The owner looks at me sympathetically, seeing my internal rage, and nods, letting me give it to her.)
Me: “First of all, it’s not a car, it’s an SUV. Second, it’s 12-years-old and has over 200k on it. Third, judging by the amount of junk and takeout that I saw in it in the 30 seconds it took to look at your odometer, I’m sure everything is broken and/or filthy, not to mention the lack of care you took, judging by the fluids. If it was in pristine condition, you’d be looking at around $700. Yours? Maybe it’s weight in scrap, so $115.” *she opens her mouth to interrupt me, but I stop her* “Fourth, I advised you NUMEROUS times of the issues and offered remedies, as I knew you were going on a road trip. I do this job to pay for school, to be a mechanic. This is the only job that works with my school hours.” *she now looks slightly defeated* “FINALLY, the moment you came in here asking for a MAN, I could’ve just opened the exit door and waved you out. I didn’t. I am the most experienced and best educated person here.”
(I smugly walked away. The owner stood beside the woman, the biggest smile I’d ever seen. I saved him $5000+ AND put an idiot customer in her place.)
7. The Epic Fight Between Positive And Negative
Home Improvement | Belgium
(I work at IKEA. Today I’m at the small food counter near the registers when a woman makes a fuss about us having run out of fish sandwiches. Behind her in line is a regular who is also the son of one of our senior workers. After a two or three-minute rant, he rolls his eyes and addresses her:)
Regular: “They sold out. Throwing a tantrum isn’t going to magically make pan-fried fish fall from the sky onto your sandwich.”
Woman: “What do you think you’re doing? Mind your own business!”
Regular: “This is my business. I’m here for a hot dog and you’re in my way; move along, please.”
(This woman sees the queue agree. She stomps off to a recently installed little machine with smiley faced buttons. The idea is to press the button corresponding with your experience. She begins repeatedly mashing the frowny-face.)
Regular: *orders his hot dog and calmly walks over to the machine, grabbing some mustard on the way while silently counting the number of times the woman mashed the button*
Woman: “What do you want now?”
Regular: *eats his hot dog in silence until she turns to leave, then he steps to the machine and starts pressing the smiley-face* “You hit it 37 times? Let’s top that score. 1, 2, 3, 4…”
Woman: “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”
Regular: “8, 9, 10, pressing buttons, 11, 12…”
Woman: “Stop that! I am leaving a negative review! You can’t make it positive again!”
(By now the regular’s mother has shown up, as the manager has been so busy.)
Regular: “19, 20, 21…”
Regular’s Mom: *takes a look at her son, having heard the short version from my coworker who paged for her and connecting the dots* “I’ll call a manager.”
(She runs into the backroom of the food counter. Barely containing her laughter, she pages the manager, who shows up surprisingly soon.)
Manager: “What’s the issue, ma’am?”
Regular: “54, 55, 56…”
Woman: “He’s removing my angry points! You didn’t want to give me fish and I left a bad review and he’s removing it!
(There is a small crowd forming to take a look at the show — and buying more hot dogs and drinks to enjoy while they’re at it.)
Manager: *also having trouble containing his amusement* “Well, ma’am, I can only apologize. We’re out of fish, and just like we can’t stop you from leaving negative reviews, I can’t stop him from leaving positive ones.”
Woman: “Fine! When he leaves, I’ll just push the angry face more!”
Regular: *waves his mother over* “Hey, mom, can I have a few more hot dogs and a drink? I’ll be here until closing, 78, 79, 80…”
Woman: *leaves, screeching* “You’re all in on it. You’re all against me!”
Regular: “83, 84…”
Retail | UK
(I’m working to returns desk handling a small line which has gathered.)
Woman: “Is it possible to return this? It has been in my bag for the past month; I just completely forgot about it!”
Me: “Do you have a receipt?”
Woman: “No, sorry.”
Me: “I can return it, but you will only get the current price, not the price you purchased with.” *scans item* “It would be £9.99.”
Woman: “Oh, that’s not so bad. It was £12.99, I think. Sure, I can live with that.”
(Suddenly the man behind her sniggers.)
Man: “That’s not how you do a return, lady.”
Woman: “Excuse me?”
Man: “You’ve got to make them feel small. Kick up a fuss. Get loud. Demand a manager. You’d get that £13 back, no bother.”
(The woman stares at him for a long time, making his confident expression falter, before turning back to me.)
Woman: “How small does your d**k have to be to get a thrill out of £3?”
(The man turned red with embarrassment and fled the store. The rest of us had a chuckle and, while I couldn’t refund the woman full price, the rest of the line coughed up the remaining £3, for the entertainment.)
Retail | USA
(I work at a rather well-known small retail store. I am very open about my sexuality and don’t tend to let other people’s opinions affect me. I am on register; it being a rather slow day I only have one customer in line.)
Customer: “That’s just sick, isn’t it?”
(She is motioning to a newspaper showing a homosexual couple that was the first to marry in our town.)
Me: “Excuse me?”
Customer: “Letting gays just marry and act normal… It’s sick that this is what society as fallen to.”
(At this point I am annoyed but decide to just ignore the comment and continue to ring up her items.)
Customer: “IT’S SICK, ISN’T IT?!”
(She is now yelling her eyes wide as she just stares at me.)
Me: “No, I disagree with you and so would my girlfriend.”
(The customer looks at me shocked before turning to my manager who is near by listening to everything.)
Customer: “Sir, can you ring me out? I don’t want this devil-worshiper touching anymore of my items.”
(I am now about in tears as I just stand there amazed by her ignorance.)
Manager: “No… I’m busy, but let me see if my boyfriend is free.”
(He started looking around before calling some random guy’s name into our otherwise empty store. The customer left without her things, mumbling stuff about Hell. My manager is a straight married man with kids… The world needs more people like him!)
Photography Studio | Australia
(I am a photographer running a studio in the inner city. We are well known for our children’s portraits, and we range from high-end portraits for modelling jobs to fun sibling photos and birth announcements. We do a bit of everything; as such, we are extremely busy, and it states on our website that we do not accept walk-ins. We are usually booked up six months in advance. One day, ten minutes before closing, a mum walks in with a young girl around six or seven behind her. I internally groan.)
Mother: “Hello. I know you’re closing soon, but I have a special favour to ask.”
(At this point the little girl peeks around her mother’s legs and I’m lost for words. Under her thick winter coat and hat, she is skeletally thin with huge dark circles under her eyes. From what I can tell, she has no hair, and a tube taped to her cheek that feeds into her nose. It is immediately clear this kid is very, very sick.)
Mother: *near tears* “My daughter saw one of your photos taped to the wall at the hospital. She REALLY loves unicorns and the photo had a girl photo-shopped onto a horse. I know you’re booked up, and it’s months before the next appointment, but…”
(At this point she actually starts crying. I realise that our next available appointment is probably way too far away for this particular kid. The little girl squeezes her mother’s hand. I am a very big dude, covered in tattoos and a beard, but I’m not ashamed to say I needed a minute before I spoke.)
Me: “Aww, that’s just for regular customers! I’ve been waiting all day to take a photo of someone as beautiful as you! What’s your name, sweetheart?”
(I lock the front door and spend the next three hours taking photos of this kid in every princess costume I have in my closet. She is the sweetest, most well-behaved kid I have ever worked with. Once we’re done she curls up on the couch in my office and falls asleep while I load up the photos for her mum to see and choose the ones she likes best, and ask her what kind of retouching she’d like done. She’s adamant that I leave her daughter as is — apparently the little girl has been worried for the past month that she is no longer “pretty.”)
Me: “All right, so we’ve settled on these. I can have them edited and all finished in two days. If you give me your email I can send you the link to the website and the password to download them when they’re ready.”
(The mother thanks me over and over and comes up front, carrying her sleeping daughter, and holds out her credit card.)
Me: “Nope. No way.”
Mother: “Please, I insist. You stayed open so late and your shoots are listed for [amount] online. Please at least charge me that.
Me: “Absolutely not. I am not taking money for this. No way in h***.”
(A few days later I send the link through and hear nothing. I see she’s downloaded the photos and I think nothing of it, hoping my sweet little friend loved her photos. Almost six months later I’m once again closing up when a very familiar face pops up at my window, grinning and waving frantically.)
Me: *throwing open the door* “Hey, you!”
Little Girl: “Hi! I’m better! Look, I’m better!”
(Sure enough, she’d put on some weight, was flushed and pink, and had a fine fuzz of hair over her head. Her mother was a few steps behind her, grinning. She once again tried to force an envelope full of money into my hand, and again I refused. She got frustrated and eventually in her exasperation said, “at least let us take you to dinner!” which I happily accepted. Seven years later that photo of a sick little girl astride a giant pink unicorn is in a frame in my lounge room. My now-step-daughter groans every time I point it out to the friends she brings home!)
3. He’ll Be In The Afterlife After The Birth
Hospital | USA
(It is Halloween. The hospital staff have put up decorations, but they’re minimal. I’m trying to wheel a patient who is in labor, to the room she was assigned, along with her husband.)
Patient’s Husband: “We should put her in the room with the witch hanging over the door.”
Me: “I’m sorry. That room’s actually a different size. I’m supposed to take you to room 79.”
Patient’s Husband: “But that room has a ghost. She wants a witch.”
Me: “The only room we have with that decoration is half the size of this one, and doesn’t have all the same equipment in it. This is the room you paid for.”
Patient’s Husband: “It has to be a witch. She’s been real nasty all week.”
(As she hears her husband say this, the wife is looking less and less pleased. She is a week overdue, and has been in for false labor pains the past two weeks.)
Me: “That’s interesting, but there aren’t any decorations inside the room anyway. What is inside this room is a much wider space for the doctor and nurses to provide her with better care.”
Patient’s Husband: “She wants a witch, so put her in the room with the witch.”
(Finally, the patient has had enough and speaks up.)
Patient: “Shut up. I want to get this kid out in whatever room the people who know what they’re doing think is best, you dumb troll!”
College & University | USA
(To make the day more interesting, I am asking the prospective students about their Halloween.)
Me: “So how was your Halloween? Did you dress up?”
Student Caller: “I was Spock, of course.”
Me: “Awesome. Live long and prosper.”
Student Caller: “The needs of the many…”
Me: “…are greater than the needs of the few.”
Student Caller: “Or the one.”
*long pause*
Student Caller: “Marry me?”
Me: “Excuse me?”
Student Caller: “What, is this moving too fast for you? Okay, how about a date? Coffee? I can be there in four hours!”
Me: “Uhh… I don’t think this is appropriate. If you have any questions, you can call the office of admissions-”
Student Caller: “Wait! I need to tell my mom I’ve met the future Mrs. Finkler!”
Coffee Shop | USA
(I work in a coffee shop. I am on break in the lobby when a couple walks in. Directly behind them is a cute little boy in Batman costume.)
Me: “Oh, my God! It’s BATMAN!”
(The boy stops, strikes a pose, and starts looking around menacingly. After a few seconds, he approaches the counter.)
Mother: “Jeff, would you like a chocolate milk?”
Boy: “I am not Jeff. I am The Batman.”
Mother: “The Batman, would you like a chocolate milk?”
Boy: “Yes. Yes, The Batman would.”
(The couple pays while the boy sits down with his chocolate milk. He keeps a stern look on his face as he sips the drink.)
Boy: *sips* “Gotham is safe.”
Previous ‘Best Of The Decade’ roundups can be found here!
2016
2015
2014
2013
2012
2011
2010
Check back tomorrow, for our 2018 roundup!
Question of the Week
Have you ever served a bad customer who got what they deserved?
