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Don’t Have A Cow, Man, Part 2

| England, UK | Crazy Requests, Food & Drink

(I work in a pub that mainly caters to people drinking but also has a small menu for those looking to eat.)

Customer: “There’s not much on the menu for my family of vegans.”

Me: “I’d be happy to ask our chef to make some alterations for you.”

Customer: “Great, in that case we will have…” *lists four meals all with major alterations that come to resemble nothing from our menu*

Me: “Okay, I’ll see what we can do.”

(I speak to the kitchen and luckily they are happy to make these changes. During the wait, the customer comes up several times to ensure the food will be vegan-friendly. When I deliver the meals to their table…)

Me: “Here you go. Can I get anything else for you?”

Customer: “Mayonnaise.”

Related:
Don’t Have A Cow, Man

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Getting Into The Time Zone

| USA | Bad Behavior, Time

(I do stocking and shipping for a web-based tech supply company: computers, servers, parts and accessories, office security, things like that. I get a call.)

Me: “Shipping, [My Name].”

Sales Rep: “Hey, [My Name], I’ve got a customer on the line. He wants to know why his order didn’t ship yesterday.”

Me: “Sure, do you have the order number?”

(As I pull up the order information, the rep puts the customer on three-way call.)

Me: “Ah, I see the problem here, sir. Your order was placed too late in the day to process, and—”

Customer: “Impossible.”

Me: “Um… actually, sir, it’s very possible. You see—”

Customer: “Your site says you GUARANTEE same-day shipping!”

Me: “Actually, sir, it doesn’t. The word ‘guarantee’ doesn’t exist there. It states ‘Most in-stock orders placed before five pm Eastern time are shipped the same day.’”

Customer: “Exactly! So why wasn’t my order shipped!?”

Me: “Because you placed your order with us past ten at night.”

Customer: “Bull! It was no later than seven pm!”

Me: “I see from the shipping address you’re in California, correct?”

Customer: “What does that have to do with it!?”

Me: “Time zones. California is three hours ahead of us, so when it’s seven your time, it’s ten our time.”

Customer: “No, you IDIOT, it’s the other way around! When it’s seven MY time, it’s FOUR your time!”

Me: “Sir, I’m looking at my clock right this second and it says 2:45 pm. What time is it where you are!:

Customer: *pause* “You still should have gotten it out yesterday! Amazon ships until midnight!”

Me: “Sir, the main Amazon warehouses process more shipments in a day than we do in a year. More than we do in TWO years around the holidays. No carrier would make the deals with us that they do with Amazon.”

Customer: “Well, your site’s still misleading! You must deal with this all the time!”

Me: “Actually, sir, except for legitimate problems such as incorrect information or technical malfunctions, you’re the first one I’ve spoken to that was this upset. And I’ve been here for ten years.”

(I don’t know if it was because I was staying level-headed or he was realizing his own culpability, but pretty soon the guy hung up. The sales rep, who until now had apparently been speechless, finally piped back up.)

Sales Rep: “How did you keep your cool with that!? That guy sounded like he was going to scream at everyone in the company!”

Me: “I married into a very large, very loud, Italian family. If THAT guy could rile me up I’d never survive Christmas!”

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Putting You Into A Real Allergen Pickle

| Ottawa, ON, Canada | Crazy Requests, Food & Drink

(There was a regular who would come around at least once a week in the drive-thru on my shift. Every single time, some variant of this conversation would happen.)

Regular: “I want a [Famous Sandwich] combo with a bottle of water. No pickles on the sandwich; I’m allergic.”

Me: “Did you still want the sauce on it, then? There’s a LOT of pickles in the sauce.”

Regular: “No, I can have the sauce. Just no pickles.”

(This continues, with me being legally obligated to warn him about the sauce every single time, until the following:)

Me: “There’s a LOT of pickles in the sauce.”

Regular: “No! I still want the sauce. I’m just allergic to the texture of pickles!”

(That’s right: allergic to the ‘texture.’ We all figured he just wanted grounds to demand compensation if we messed up and added them.)