I’m lined up at a fast food place right after I’ve knocked off work at the nearby supermarket. It’s the middle of the day, and I’ve got a hankering for a specific burger and some fries. I see above the cashier’s head that the particular burger I want is on a lunchtime special for $5. I’ve just cracked a can of energy drink, which is in my hand, so I’m pondering whether I can get away with no drink.

The teenager behind the counter taking orders is obviously blaming me and the other customers personally for her bad day. She’s snippy and rude, and she actually yells at a little kid in front of me for asking for a spoon. Whatever, we all have bad days. It’s my turn to order.

Me: “Hi! Can I please have a [$5 lunchtime special]? But I don’t want a drink, thanks.”

Cashier: *Glaring* “It comes with a drink.”

Me: “I know. I just don’t need one. I’ve already got one.”

I wave around my very distinctive, large red can of energy drink.

Cashier: *Still glaring* “You have to have the drink. I can’t remove it.”

I think she thinks I’m trying to get it cheaper.

Me: “Oh! No, I know that, but could you put it through and just not pour the drink? I don’t need it; it’ll go to waste.”

Cashier: “No. It comes with a drink.”

I can see I’m not getting anywhere with her, so I finally just ask for their most popular drink, pay, and step off to the side to wait for my food. She stomps around a bit getting my order and then hands it to me, smugly adding, “And here’s your drink,” as she hands it over.

Me: “Thanks.”

I turn to a group of teenagers sitting at the table behind me.

Me: “You guys want a free drink?”

I set my drink on their table and they thank me while the cashier goes ballistic behind me.

Cashier: “YOU CAN’T DO THAT! IT COMES WITH A DRINK! YOU HAVE TO TAKE THE DRINK!”

I just walked out. When I looked through the window getting into my car, a very exasperated manager was talking to her. Good luck, buddy.

I worked in retail, and at my particular store, our return policy was that you had to have either a receipt or the price tag with the item.

This woman came in one time and made a purchase, and I handed her her bags.

Customer: “Can I have another plastic bag, please?”

Me: “Sure.”

I didn’t think anything of it and handed her one. She proceeded to dump the entirety of the contents of her purse into the bag. Then, she handed me her now-empty purse.

Customer: “I want to return this.”

It was scratched and torn in places and had obviously been used for a few weeks at the very least but more likely a few months. Shocked as I was, I still kept my cool.

Me: “Do you have your receipt or the price tag for it?”

Customer: “Of course not! Just return it! They’ve done it for me at the other store before. I know you can do it!”

Me: “Um… without a receipt or a price tag, we have no way of even knowing if you purchased it here, much less of knowing the price. I’m sorry, but our policy is that I can’t return it without one of those two.”

She stormed away, looking very silly with an empty purse and all of her purse contents in a shopping bag.

Related:
Refunder Blunder, Part 63
Refunder Blunder, Part 62
Refunder Blunder, Part 61
Refunder Blunder, Part 60
Refunder Blunder, Part 59

I’m a paralegal at a law office. We have to send a bunch of letters out for a case we are working on. All the information is put together on Excel sheets, and we just have to copy that information and format it into each letter.

One day, a letter gets sent back as it had the wrong address. Since another lawyer working there on a trial basis did all these letters with me, our boss comes and lets us know.

Boss: “Hey, this letter had the wrong address, so if we could just send a new one out, that would be great. I’m not mad; accidents happen. That spreadsheet was long and it was probably easy to mix things up.”

IMMEDIATELY, [Lawyer] starts throwing me under the bus.

Lawyer: “Well, I know I did everything right, so it wasn’t me. It was probably [My Name] or [Other New Lawyer], but I double-checked everything, so it couldn’t have been me.”

Me: “[Other New Lawyer] only worked on one letter since he couldn’t access the computers that day. Relax. It’s a little mistake — no big deal.”

Lawyer: “Yeah, but it wasn’t me. You remember that Shaggy song from the 2000s? That’s me right now because it wasn’t me.”

I bit my tongue. I saw that I was the one who did that letter, but it wasn’t my fault, either, as the actual address was incorrect on the sheet.

What’s worse is that while reviewing [Lawyer]’s letters before we sent them out, he completely f***ed up some of the addresses, and I fixed them. It pissed me off so much how willing and ready he was to blame me for a problem when it more than likely would have been his fault.

At our deli, we have a wide variety of lunchmeats and cheeses. The prices of the current sales are displayed with yellow stickers with the current price on them over the regular prices, in large font. All of the products are displayed prominently in the front of our case. A seasoned regular will ask for [amount] of [flavor] [lunchmeat], please. Some people need a bit more hand-holding when it comes to ordering.

And some people… Well, I had this ridiculous level of neediness twice in one day.

Me: “Hello, how may I help you?”

Customer #1: “Ham.”

Me: “Is there a particular brand you would like?”

Customer #1: “What do you have on sale?”

Me: “[Store Brand].”

Customer #1: “I want [Store Brand] ham.”

She stares at me expectantly instead of providing any more information.

Me: “Did you want something smokier or sweeter?”

I finally get it narrowed down to a couple of options. She chooses one and I pull out a chub of it that was opened yesterday. It is only half gone. Think of a piece of meat that a deli clerk cuts on the slicer; that is a “chub”.

Customer #1: “Do you have anything fresher?”

Our boss, rightly, doesn’t like when we have multiple chubs open as that winds up costing us a lot of waste. So, instead of opening another one or arguing, I just show her the other ham option and she accepts that. She also finally tells me the amount she wants, and we go on our way.

A few hours later, I step up to another customer.

Me: “Hello, how may I help you?”

Customer #2: “Turkey.”

I stutter for a second and stare at her as my brain has short-circuited.

Customer #2: “I said I want turkey.”

Me: “Ah… we… ah…”

I gesture my arms wide to show we have a lot of options.

Me: “Can you, ah… narrow it down a little?”

Customer #2: “What do you have on sale?”

My brain finally fully reengages.

Me: “[Store Brand].”

Customer #2: “No, I don’t want that. I will have [flavor] [different brand].”

Me: *Internally* “And you couldn’t have said that to begin with?” *Outwardly* “And how much would you like?”

And we were finally able to get her meat cut.

My husband is a “Junior”, named after his dad. When we had our first child, a boy, we gave my father-in-law a great deal of teasing about what his name would be, but we ultimately agreed that our boy would be named “[Father-In-Law] III”. It suits him well.

A couple of years later, we had twin girls. My father-in-law suggested “Iris” and “Lily” for the names, and we particularly liked those. They worked well with our last name and were relatively easy to spell. The family name is a little difficult, so we wanted to make at least part of it easy.

I’m now on pregnancy number three. We’re having a girl, but only one this time.

Father-In-Law: “I like Violet. That’s a nice name.”

Husband: “That does sound nice. Violet [Surname].”

Me: “NO!”

Husband & Father-In-Law: “What?”

Me: “We will not be that family!”

Father-In-Law: “What does that mean?”

Me: *Sigh* “Did you ever meet a family who had kids named Dave, Dale, Darrell, Dean, and Joe?”

Father-In-Law: “Oh. But Iris, Lily, [Son], and Violet don’t sound anything alike.”

Me: “IRIS. LILY. VIOLET. Notice a pattern?”

Husband: “Ooooh. Nope, not doing that.”

We settled on Vivian. It suits her well!