Category: Bad Behavior

Every Waitress Is Someone’s Daughter

| Oklahoma City, OK, USA | Bad Behavior, Family & Kids, Food & Drink

(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.)

1 Thumbs

In For A Penny…

| TX, USA | Bad Behavior, Food & Drink

(I’ve been working as a pizza delivery driver for about two months, and I take pride in finding customers’ homes quickly and calling them if I don’t. This night, after going up and down a very dimly lit street looking for the house number for about ten minutes, after two trips past where the house should have been, I call the customer from my cell phone and get no answer. Finally, someone picks up.)

Customer: “Who the h*** is this and why the h*** do you keep calling me?!”

Me: “I’m terribly sorry. I’m from [Pizza Place] looking for [Customer]. Is this the right number?”

Customer: “Yeah. Where the f*** is my pizza?”

Me: “I’m having a little difficulty locating your house. I’m at the corner of [Street #1] and [Street #2]. Can you point me in the right direction?”

Customer: “It’s two blocks down. Can’t you f****** read?”

Me: “The street two blocks down is completely dark. Can you turn your light on for me?”

Customer: “Fine. Hurry the h*** up.”

(Five minutes later, I’m two blocks down, and still no lights. So I call again. Apparently seeing my number again, the customer comes outside.)

Me: “Here’s your pizza. The total is $24.99.”

Customer: *hands over $25* “So f****** expensive. You can keep the change as your tip.”

(Normally, I don’t have coin change on me. That night, I happened to have a penny in my pocket from where I’d picked it up off the floorboard of my car earlier. Before he could turn away, I dug in my pocket and slapped it on top of the pizza box.)

Me: “No, sir, you can keep it; you obviously need it more than I do.”

(Before he can answer, I turn away and get in my car. When I get back to the store, my manager calls me into the back.)

Manager: “I just got a phone call about you. Apparently you were rude and abusive to a customer?”

Me: *explains situation from beginning* “So, I told him he could keep the penny.”

Manager: *dies laughing* “Good for you! I’m putting him on the ‘do not deliver’ list. If he wants pizza he can come get it himself.”

1 Thumbs

Already Covered In Enough Trash

| Riverbank, CA, USA | Bad Behavior, Bizarre

(The guys responsible for herding and organizing the carts also empty the garbage cans near the entrance, usually by tying off the bags, putting them in a cart, and wheeling them through the store to the back. It’s not usually a problem, but on this day the bag broke and leaked stinky trash water all over the floor. I was on my hands and knees wiping up the spill when our store operator came over to me to say there was an insistent customer in my department: the lingerie department.)

Me: *wearing rubber gloves obviously soiled with trash remnants* “Hello, sir, how can I help you?”

Customer: “I’m looking for some lingerie for my wife and I want you to help me pick some out.”

Me: “Tell me more about what you’re looking for. A matched set, a nightgown, lace, satin?”

Customer: “Why don’t you tell me what kind of underwear you like?”

Me: “…I’m sorry?”

Customer: “She’s about your size; if you wanted to look real sexy, what would you wear?” *remember: I’m wearing trash-covered rubber gloves*

Me: “Sir, I can point you to different items in the department or help you get another size or color, but I can’t choose an item for you.”

Customer: “C’mon… I just want you to help me find something that would look good on a woman like you!”

Me: “Sir, I’m covered in trash juice and we have a main aisle blocked off waiting for me to clean it. If you need help finding something, you can talk to [Coworker] in the jewelry department.”

(I walked away while he contemplated the 6’2″, 300 lb worker at the jewelry counter. The last I saw of him he was scurrying away from my coworker muttering something about not needing any help.)

Has Some Bag Boy Baggage

, | UT, USA | Bad Behavior, Bigotry

(I have just been operated on to remove a cancerous tumor. It was a minor surgery, but the location of the incision made walking somewhat uncomfortable, so I use a cane for a few weeks. On my way back to the computer department from a break, a woman stops me…)

Customer: *speaking slowly, carefully enunciating every syllable, and condescendingly polite* “Excuse me, young man.”

Me: “Yes?”

Customer: “Can you find someone to help me? I need to pick up a ROU-ter. It’s a thing for my com-PU-ter.”

Me: “Sure! Do you—”

Customer: “Someone in HERE—” *gestures at the computer department* “—might know about it.”

Me: “Got it. Are you looking for a wired router, wired gigabit, wireless B, wireless G, or wireless N?”

Customer: “Oh. Oh!” *she suddenly speaks normally* “Oh, I’m sorry!” *she gestures to my cane* “I thought… I thought you were, like, just a bag boy or something.”

Me: “Right… Let’s go look at those routers.”

(After that, she was like any other normal customer. I didn’t bother to comment on her ignorant assumptions that using a cane or that having a job as a “bag boy” was an indication of a mental handicap.)

Sick Of Bad Parenting

| Ireland | Bad Behavior, Family & Kids, Health & Body, History

(I occasionally help out in my mother’s salon at busy times like Christmas week. There is a bit of a lull one morning this year so I leave to run some errands just as a client arrives with her three young children. I missed the following occurring not even ten minutes later..)

Baby: *throws up*

Mom: *sympathetic* “Is she OK?”

Client: “She’s fine, just something she ate this morning.”

(Almost on cue, one of the older kids “projectile vomits” across the floor. The other one doesn’t look very well either.)

Mom: “I’m sorry, but you need to take them home. They’re all sick.”

Client: “But my hair…”

Stylist: “No, they’re sick and if we get sick, too, we can’t work. They have that stomach bug that’s going around and it’s really bad.”

Client: “But my husband won’t look after them. I need my hair done!”

Mom: “In Ireland, men mind children, too. If he lives here, he helps.”

(She reluctantly left. I came back to my mother bleaching everything the kids had touched or thrown up on, and thankfully none of us got sick. We were just so boggled about how anyone could take clearly sick kids out anywhere, let alone for something as silly as a hair appointment. The client even tried to get another appointment for the day after Christmas, when no salon will open…)

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