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Sins Of The Father, Part 3

| OR, USA | Right | October 16, 2013

(I am the customer in this scenario. I have decided to have lunch at a local muffin/sandwich shop. I finish my order, and a couple comes in behind me with two children. The mother leaves to go to another store, and the children begin to run the length of the store without any input from their father. I finally get my food tray, and am stepping away from the counter, when the older of the two, the son runs into me from behind, full tilt. Barely keeping my balance, I cry out.)

Me: “Hey! Watch where you’re going, buddy!”

Father: “Don’t you f****** talk to my kid like that!”

Son: “Yeah!”

(The son aims a punch at my more tender areas. I thankfully turn to the side quickly enough to avoid the hit in the crotch, but the son ends up smacking the hard back of the cell phone in my pocket. He falls to the floor, holding his hand and wailing.)

Father: “You son of a b****! You hit my son!”

Me: “No… he just—”

Father: “Someone call the police! That man hit my son!”

Me: “Look—”

Father: “I saw you! You hit my son! I’m gonna—” *starts advancing on me with fists clenched*

(The owner suddenly comes over.)

Owner: “[Father’s Name], that’s it! I’ve had it! I’ve told you not to let your kids run around here, and now you’re threatening my customers. I don’t care if you’re related to me; I want you and your kids out of my store, now!”

Father: “But he—”

Owner: “Remember, [Father’s Name], you installed the video cameras for me last week. I watched your son run into and try to hit this guy. GET OUT!”

(I didn’t lose my meal, but I was able to eat it in relative peace after the father and the owner finished a protracted screaming match with the father losing and leaving.)

Related:
Sins Of The Father, Part 2
Sins Of The Father

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Not Even A Nugget Of Truth

| Tyler, TX, USA | Right | October 16, 2013

(I am the only manager at a fast food restaurant on a night that is known for being slammed. We are short staffed, so I’ve been picking up the slack in many different parts of the store. I am trying to bag the 50 orders on the boards when the phone rings and is quickly handed to me by my coworker.)

Coworker: “She needs to speak with a manager.”

Me: “This is the manager; how may I serve you?”

Customer: “Yes, I was in your drive through earlier for lunch and I got the nugget meal. I drove all the way back to work and when I bit into my nugget red juice came out! I could tell they were all raw. Now I have to go ALL DAY without eating anything. I want my money back!”

Me: “Yes, ma’am, I am very sorry you had this experience and can understand why you’re upset. I will personally speak with our kitchen manager to ensure the proper procedures are being used and I will be more than happy to replace your entire meal with any meal on the menu.”

Customer: “No, I don’t want anything else. I want my money back. I drove all the way there because I wanted to eat your food but I can assure you that I will not be eating at your restaurant again. You can’t even cook the food properly. DON’T YOU CARE ABOUT GETTING PEOPLE SICK?”

Me: “Ma’am, I can assure you that food safety is most important at our restaurant. I am unable to give you a cash refund without the food present. I can give you a gift card for the price of your meal, or I can replace your meal with any other meal on the menu.”

Customer: “I wont accept another meal! Do whatever you need to do to get me my money back, or I’ll go to the city and they’ll get it back. As a matter of fact, you owe me reimbursement for the gas it took for me to drive there and back only to get this s*** food!”

(I get her information, and tell her I will have to leave a message for my supervisor, and that he would get back to her as soon as possible. She remains unsatisfied with my response and hangs up on me mid-sentence. First of all, every batch of nuggets is cooked at a specific temperature for a set time period every time they are cooked. Secondly, if there were some crazy incident where the nuggets did not get cooked thoroughly then we should expect that more than one customer would have experienced this issue as well. Finally, with the increasing addition to her list of demands and very detailed story and threats, I have the suspicion that she may be trying to scam me. After the phone call ends, I text my supervisor.)

Me: “I told her I would speak to you and give you her information but she wants and cash refund and gas money.”

Supervisor: “If she brings me back a raw nugget I will be happy to refund her meal.”

Me: “She said she wouldn’t be back for days so I told her she probably shouldn’t keep them that long.”

Supervisor: “Of course! And paying for her gas? Total scam. Thank you for playing. Come again.”

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Requires More (Water) Proof

| USA | Right | October 16, 2013

(It’s raining out. I am watching the rain through the window and notice a guy on his cell phone. Then I see him shake his head and look at his phone. He looks up and sees my store and starts heading in.)

Customer: “My phone just stopped working! I need my phone. I was on a business call and it just stopped working!”

Me: “Maybe it got wet and has water damage. Let me—”

Customer: “I have never gotten my phone wet! It does not have any water damage!”

Me: “Sir, I just saw you talking on your phone in the pouring rain.”

Customer: “So what?! Rain isn’t going to water damage a phone!”

Me: “Sir, rain is water. If I may see your—”

Customer: “You don’t know what you’re talking about! I guess I’ll have to go somewhere else to get service!”

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Aging Badly

| Exeter, England, UK | Right | October 16, 2013

(I work in a cinema. One evening on my break, I see my husband’s 13-year-old cousin hanging around outside. I have a feeling that she’s trying to get into a 15-rated film, so when I go back on shift, I tell everybody else I know she’s under 15. She eventually goes to my manager’s till, so I go over.)

Me: “Don’t sell her a ticket to Silent Hill. She’s my husband’s cousin; I know she’s 13.”

Manager: “Okay, thanks.”

(My cousin approaches. She doesn’t seem to recognize me.)

Cousin: “I’d like tickets for Silent Hill, please.”

Manager: “I’m afraid you cannot get a ticket for the film. You are not over 15.”

Cousin: “What the f***?! I’m f****** 15; don’t f****** listen to her! What the f*** does she know? I want to watch the f****** film!”

Manager: “You’re not old enough to watch it; we know you’re not. Can you move to the side, so I can serve someone else?”

Cousin: “F*** you! You don’t know s***! I’m watching the f****** film!”

(My manager goes to my cousin’s friends, who are waiting to the side.)

Manager: “I’m happy for you guys to watch the film; you’ve got your ID with you, so it’s fine. Your friend can’t watch the film because she’s not old enough.” *to my husband’s cousin* “I’m asking you to leave, and to stop swearing.”

Cousin: “I’m not f****** swearing!”

Manager: “Or I can call the police to have you removed? Choice is yours.”

(She hasn’t stepped foot in the cinema since. That Christmas, she came round to my husband’s parents’ house while we were there. As soon as she saw me, she practically fled the room, because the penny finally dropped!)

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I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 12

| Natchitoches, LA, USA | Right | October 16, 2013

(I’m browsing the yarn section of a well-known big box retailer. There is another customer, a middle-aged man, slowly making his way down the aisle.)

Customer: *stands next to me and clears his throat*

Me: *takes two steps to the right* “Sorry I’m in the way, hon. I don’t know what colors I want.”

Customer: “Hmph! Well, that’s not my problem, is it? Where are the iron-on patches?”

Me: *gestures* “On the other aisle over there with the sewing notions.”

Customer: “Hmph! I meant for you to show me exactly where to find them!”

(At this point, I remember I’m wearing the jacket for my job, which is the same color as the shirts and jackets this store’s employees wear.)

Me: “Oh!” *I point at my store’s logo on the front of my jacket* “I don’t work here! I work at [Convenience Store] in Robeline. I only know where they are because I sew. I don’t use those, though, as I’d rather sew a patch. There are sew-on patches over there, too.”

Customer: “Don’t lie to me and don’t try to change the subject! Your jacket is the same color as the other employees’ jackets!”

Me: “Honey, I work for [Convenience Store], not [Retailer].” *I point at the logo again* “See? Completely different logo.”

Customer: “Don’t you ‘honey’ me, you brat! If you were my kid I’d tan your hide! The trouble with you kids these days is that you don’t respect your elders!”

Me: “First off, I am NOT a child! I am twenty-four years old, which means I am a grown woman. Second, I have already told you that I don’t work here and showed you proof of the fact. Third, the d***ed patches you’re looking for are one aisle over, next to the other sewing notions, and they’re right in plain sight! If you can’t find them, that’s your problem, not mine!”

(The customer storms off muttering about disrespectful employees. When I go to check-out later, I find myself at the end of the line in the same lane as him and notice that he has the iron-on patches.)

Me: *loudly* “Glad to have been of service, sir!”

Customer: *to his cashier* “I’d like to know who to speak to so that I can report her! She was very rude to me earlier!”

Cashier: *chuckles* “Sir, she doesn’t work here. She works at [Convenience Store]. I see her there all the time when I’m passing through.”

Customer: “You’re just covering for her! I’m going to take this to corporate!”

Cashier: “You have a good day, sir!”

Customer: *storms off with his bags*

Related:
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 11
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 10
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 9
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 8
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 7
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 6
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 5

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