Pray For That Only Child

, , | Right | September 14, 2017

Caller: “Are children allowed for this performance?”

Me: “Yes, two and up.”

Caller: “No, I only have one child.”

It’s Not “Looking” Good, Ladies

, , , , | Right | September 14, 2017

(I am a customer in line. Because this is a party town, this particular gas station closes its restrooms at 10 pm to avoid drunk college students messing up the place. There are two 20-something girls talking to the male cashier.)

Girl #1: “Please let us use the restroom. It’ll be quick.”

Cashier: “I’m sorry, but the owner doesn’t want us to make exceptions. There are port-a-potties outside by the parking lot you’re free to use.”

Girl #1: “Come on. Look at me.”

(She starts batting her eyes and pushes out her chest.)

Girl #1: “I bet you don’t meet many girls who pay attention to you. But I’m looking at you.”

Girl #2: “What if I look you in the eyes? Then will you let us use it?”

Cashier: *stares blankly* “…No, I’m sorry but I am not allowed to unlock it.”


Cashier: “Okay, but—”

Girl #1: “GOD, WHAT AN A**-HOLE! You’re lucky we even talked to you, and this is how we’re treated!”

(Both girls stormed out, leaving everyone else in the store bewildered.)

Won’t “Let It Go” To Delivery

, , | Right | September 14, 2017

(I work as a pharmacy technician and, as part of verifying a patient’s identity, I ask them to verify the address we have on file. A man with three rows of skulls tattooed on his forearm is picking up for someone else.)

Me: “Can you verify the address?”

Customer: “[Street number], uh, gosh, it’s the snowman from that Frozen movie!”

(The street was Olaf. I laughed and sold him the prescription.)

England Has A Lot To Answer For

, , , , , , | Right | September 13, 2017

(I work near the port where the cruise ships come in, so we got a lot of tourists. I have just finished helping a customer, when a lady who has been hanging back from the counter hesitantly walks up and puts her purchase on the counter.)

Customer: *after having listened to previous transaction* “I don’t speak Canadian; do you speak American?”

Me: “I speak English.”

(The customer looked dumbfounded, hurriedly paid for her stuff, and ran out of the store.)

I’ll Have My Steak Done All Of The Above

, , , | Right | September 13, 2017

(I am working a woman’s 60th birthday at an upscale catering hall, taking dinner orders from my tables.)

Customer: “Filet mignon, medium rare-well.”

Me: “Medium well?”

Customer: *in the most hoity-toity voice imaginable* “Medium rare-welllll.”

(The woman is looking at me like I’m stupid, and I have little-to-no patience, so due to process of elimination, I jot down “MR” for medium rare and move on. [Looking back, I should have just put medium.] After the dinner orders come out, she runs up to me, and aggressively grabs my arm.)

Customer: “My steak is not cooked enough! It has pink!”

Me: “I’m sorry about that. I’m pretty sure you requested medium rare.”

Customer: “Medium rare-well!”

Me: “There is no such thing as medium rare-well, ma’am. I guess what you are requesting is a medium steak. I’m sorry about that, I’ll put it back on the fire.”

Customer: *scoffs*

(I take the steak back into the kitchen.)

Me: *to chef* “Is there any such thing as a medium rare-well steak? Am I missing something?”

Chef: “Nope.”

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