Category: Bad Behavior

Getting Out Of Your Square Bubble

| USA | Bad Behavior, Tourists/Travel

(The bookstore is in a small, fairly quiet town and we frequently get people asking for directions. On this occasion, a 50ish-year-old lady and her husband come in.)

Customer: “I was wondering if I could get some directions? We are looking for the quilt square.”

Me: “Quilt square? I’m not sure what you are looking for. Is that a store?”

Customer: “No, it’s a piece of wood painted to look like a quilt. There are about 50 of them; they are hung up on the sides of buildings around the state. There is supposed to be one here.”

Me: “Oh, I didn’t know anything about that. I can look it up for you though.”

(I get on the internet and finally find the website. The whole time the customer is just chatting about how long it took her to find the square hanging on the barn. The only information I can find is that it is on a particular street.)

Me: “Okay, I found something. This says that it is on [Street].”

Customer: “Okay, but what building is it on?”

Me: “I am not sure. I am not familiar with that street but I know it is towards town.”

(The customer is starting to get frustrated for some reason, so I look up the street on Google Maps.)

Me: “If you take a right out of the store, it looks like the road is about five streets down.”

Customer: “But where is the square?!”

Me: “Ma’am, I am really sorry, but I don’t know anything about the quilts. I can’t really tell you where it is because I have never seen it. If you go down the street, you will probably find it.”

(At this point, I am starting to lose my patience. She isn’t even a customer for my store.)

Customer: *grumbling to her husband* “I swear! These young people just don’t know how to get out of their bubbles! She’ll probably never leave [Small Town]!”

(I just let her leave without saying anything, but it still bugs me to this day. She assumed I don’t have any culture because I don’t know where a piece of wood is. I am not American, was born in Europe, and am not yet an American citizen. I have lived in multiple states in USA plus some of USA’s territories. I am probably more traveled than she is.)

A Small Charge To Cure The Hiccups

| Germany | At The Checkout, Bad Behavior, Money

(I am a teller at a bank, and I have a nasty hiccup I cannot get rid of. A customer approaches me, having questions about his savings account. He also has a 50 Euro bill in his hand. I answer his questions, while trying to suppress my hiccup. When I hand him his documents he had given me before, he takes them, turns away, then turns back to me.)

Customer: “Where are my €50 notes?”

Me: “You did not hand it to me.”

Customer: “I did give it to you; it was in my savings book.”

(I panic, because our branch is pretty busy, and sometimes I forget things. I look around for the €50, even underneath the service station, but nothing. We argue about the money for a bit, and then he smiles.)

Customer: “Sorry, I have the money. I just needed to scare you a bit to help you get rid of that hiccup.”

(I was staring at him while he proceeded to the cashier to put the money onto his savings account. I was shocked, but he was right: my hiccups were gone!)

Banana Drama

| Austria | Bad Behavior, Family & Kids

(My colleague is a highly educated man about twice my age and works as a guide/educator in several prestigious museums, including a family-friendly house dedicated to nature and natural sciences, where the following occurs. Two young mothers let their toddlers run around wildly in an exhibition space while chatting. One of the mothers starts handing out bananas to the kids.)

Colleague: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but eating is not permitted here.”

Visitor: “I thought you were supposed to be a family-friendly museum. Am I supposed to let the poor kids go hungry?”

Colleague: “Of course not, ma’am. We have a nice, large picnic area where you’ll surely be much more comfortable. There you can also warm up milk or food, if necessary. Let me show you where it is.”

Visitor: “Why can’t you just let them finish their bananas here?”

(My colleague points to a very small child holding a half-eaten banana like a pen, smearing it all over a white wall.)

Colleague: “That’s why.”

(Instead of leaving the area, the very same lady grabs her kid, takes out a blanket and a diaper.)

Colleague: *in a much sterner tone* “If you wish to diaper your baby, I must insist on you using the specially designated room, ma’am, JUST OVER THERE.” *points to the other end of the hall* “There is such a thing as odour nuisance.”

(This time she yields and begrudgingly takes her stuff and the kid to the baby care room. After a few minutes she comes out and ostentatiously chucks the dirty diaper in a waste basket just outside the washrooms. The place, of course, starts to reek.)

Colleague: *in a perfectly calm tone* “What kind of pigsty did YOU escape from, madam?!”

(Whereupon they stormed off, never to be seen again…)

A First Time Scoop

| Columbia, TN, USA | At The Checkout, Bad Behavior, Food & Drink

(I manage a very well-known ice cream establishment, and have for many years. We have regular customers who get the same thing every day, but the customer in question here always changes her mind about what she wants. She still expects us to have it ready when she walks in the door, though.)

Me: “Hi, [Customer], what can we get for you today?”

Customer: “Oh, you know what I want!”

Me: “Let’s have you tell us, anyway, just so we know we got it right.”

Customer: *angrily* “The triple layer sundae, Snickers.”

Me: “All right, then.”

(I begin assembling her sundae. What she does, though, is change her order in the middle of its creation, so I do it slowly.)

Customer: “I want butter pecan ice cream, not Snickers.”

Me: “Okay, sure.” *scoop ice cream, begin putting on fudge and caramel*

Customer: “More fudge and caramel.”

Me: “Yes, ma’am.”

(At this point, the cup we use for this particular sundae is exploding, because it is only designed to fit exactly what is supposed to go in it. I put on the final scoop, and balance it like a pro, then proceed to grab the lid for it. But, before I even get the lid on it, she starts again.)

Customer: “Um, NO! I want an extra scoop. I ALWAYS GET AN EXTRA SCOOP!”

Me: “Okay, well, I’ll have to put it in a bigger cup.”

Customer: “FINE!”

(I dump the sundae into a bigger cup. There is still a very professional customer service smile planted on my face, even though I’m burning up on the inside.)

Customer: “WHAT is your problem?”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Customer: “You have such an attitude. Why couldn’t you just make it like I always get it in the first place?”

Me: “All right, ma’am. I am sorry if it came across as my having an attitude. That was not my intention. HOWEVER, you always have a new request when you come in, such as this new scoop, which you have never asked me, personally, for. I am simply trying to make you exactly what you want; that is all.”

(I’m still working on her sundae. Can’t stop, that stuff melts! Caramel, ice cream, Snickers, ice cream, hot fudge, ice cream, and then of course, her extra scoop. I begin, then, to put on her last spoonful of Snickers, and the lid.)

Customer: “CARAMEL! THEY ALWAYS PUT MORE CARAMEL!”

(Without speaking, I add the caramel, then the lid, bag it up, and ring up her order. I ring it up as a triple scoop sundae with three extra toppings, because that’s what she got.)

Customer: “That is WAY too much money. It never costs that much!”

Me: *prints out receipt* “This is what you got, and this is what it costs.”

Customer: “I’m not paying that for some lousy ice cream, especially after you had such an attitude! Who is your manager?”

Me: *smiles* “Actually, I’m the manager.”

Customer: “No, who is YOUR manager?”

Me: “I don’t have one. The only person above me is the owner of the store, and quite frankly, he would’ve asked you to leave already.”

Customer: “…”

Me: “Do you still want the ice cream?”

Customer: *throws money at me, takes change, grabs bag, stomps out*

Way Off The Menu

, | UT, USA | Bad Behavior, Food & Drink

(I work at a well-known sandwich shop chain and we have a limited menu. It’s a little slow and I’m with my coworker and shift manager. A homeless man walks into our shop.)

Everyone: “Hi! Welcome to [Shop]!”

Coworker: “What can I get for you today?”

Customer: “You guys got any pastrami?”

Coworker: “I’m sorry, sir, unfortunately we only have [lists the meats on our menu].”

Customer: “What about steak?”

Coworker: “We do not sir, I’m sorry.”

Customer: “Well, what do you have here?”

Coworker: *lists all of our sandwiches and sides, which include cookies*

Customer: “Well, then can I get a turkey? And be sure to toast it.”

Coworker: “We actually don’t toast our sandwiches. They only come cold.”

Customer: “Fine. Whatever. Can I get a bowl of soup to get with that as well?”

Coworker: “Sir, again, we only have [lists side items].”

Customer: “What kind of sandwich shop is this?!”

(My manager and I have been waiting on the line to make his sandwich and hear everything.)

Manager: “Sir, [Another Sandwich shop] is just up the road. If you go there I know they have all the things you requested.”

Customer: “NO! I WANT TO EAT HERE!”

Manager: “Sir, we have told you the menu—”

Customer: “WELL, I DON’T LIKE YOUR MENU! YOU NEED MORE THINGS!”

Manager: “Sir, I have suggested another shop that can satisfy you and you rejected it. You can order something off our menu, or you can leave.”

Customer: “FINE!” *orders sandwich*

Coworker: “Would you like a cookie with that?”

Customer: “Ya, got any macadamia?”

Coworker: “We only have chocolate and oatmeal.”

Customer: “What about sugar?”

Manager: “Sir, those are our only choices.”

Customer: “This place is so stupid! Fine; I’ll have oatmeal.”

(We make his sandwich and wrap it up for him and just want him to leave.)

Customer: “This place is so stupid! I knew I should’ve gone to [Shop my manager recommended earlier].” *leaves*

Me: “He didn’t have to eat here!”

Manager: “I need a minute. I’ll be back.”

(My manager needed a few minutes to cool down before the dinner rush. Luckily we didn’t have any more incidences and we never saw him again.)