The Menu Has Mushroom For Improvement

, , , , , | Right | July 17, 2018

(I am a duty manager at a five-hotel near Soho, helping at the bar and restaurant when needed. I see a table has finished their main course.)

Me: “How was your meal?”

Guest #1: “Excellent.”

Guest #2: “I didn’t like my dish.”

Me: “Aw, really sorry about that. What was wrong? Would you like something else?”

Guest #2: “It tasted too much of rice and mushrooms.”

Guest #1: “You should have thought of that before ordering the wild mushrooms risotto.”

Me: “Um… Dessert?”


Zero Tolerance Is Enforced On Zeroes

, , , , , , | Right | July 17, 2018

(I overhear the following:)

Cashier: “Good afternoon!”

Customer: *grunts*

Cashier: “Do you have a loyalty card?”

Customer: *grunts*

Cashier: *again* “Do you have a loyalty card, sir?”

Customer: *aggressively* “I don’t talk to losers like you.”

Cashier: “Oh, well, you can f*** off, then. SECURITY!”

Customer: *to nearby assistant manager* “Did you hear that?”

Assistant Manager: “Yes, didn’t you? F*** off, now.”

Customer: “I demand to speak to the top manager!”

(The top manager pops up from nowhere.)

Manager: “Didn’t you hear my staff? F*** off; you’re banned from here.”

(A few days later, I saw the same manager and asked whether they’d had any comeback from the incident. Apparently, the a**hole customer complained to corporate, who told him that no, he wasn’t banned from the store; he was banned from every [Store] in the country. They also entered his details into the aggressive-customer database shared by all the major chains, so he’s now banned from all supermarkets in the local area.)

No ID, No Idea, Part 36

, , , , | Right | July 17, 2018

(I am a manager, cashiering one night, when a young guy walks in and grabs a beer. He looks younger than 25.)

Me: “Hi. Will that be all?”

Customer: “Yeah.”

Me: “Okay, can I see your ID, please?”

(The customer pats his pockets but does not find what he is looking for.)

Customer: “I’ll be right back; forgot my wallet in the car.”

(He leaves, and I have a feeling he is not as old as he says he is. I watch him walk to his car and get in, and out comes someone else. I have put the beer up when the second person comes in, goes to the cooler, and grabs the same beer.)

Me: “Sorry, but I am unable to sell you this beer.”

Customer: “Why? I have ID, and this is for me.”

Me: “I am sorry, but I saw you get out of the car that the same person just got in, and get the same kind of beer as he did.”

Customer: “This is bull! It was for me!”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but since the first person came in and got the same beer and did not have ID, I can’t sell this to you, but when you go to another store make sure that you go in first instead of your friend.”

(Mad, he ended up throwing our lotto machine at me and storming out. I called the police to report it. I later came to find out that his aunt works for the sheriff’s department!)

No ID, No Idea, Part 35
No ID, No Idea, Part 34
No ID, No Idea, Part 33

The Shoe Doesn’t Fit

, , , , , | Right | July 17, 2018

(I work at a nail salon inside a popular mall. The direct line to our salon is very close to the number for the mall, so it’s not uncommon to have people call us by mistake.)

Me: “[Nail Salon], how may I help you?”

Customer: “Shoes.”

Me: *thinking I’ve misheard him* “Excuse me?”

Customer: *sounding angry* “Shoes!”

Me: *very confused now* “I’m sorry, we are a nail salon; we don’t have shoes. Do you need the number for the mall?”

Customer: *now very angry* “SHOES!”

Me: “One moment, please, while I connect your call.” *hangs up*

Coworker: “What was that?”

Me: “He just kept yelling, ‘Shoes.’ I think he thought I was a recording.”

Coworker: “Welcome to the service industry.”

Strolling Through The Poison

, , , | Right | July 17, 2018

(I work at the local hardware store in the garden department. It is during one of our spring sales events where some of our weed killers are on sale, when a customer walks up pushing a stroller with a rather young child.)

Me: “Hi, how are you doing? Can I help you find something?”

(I am near the fertilizer and weed killer aisle, which really stinks.)

Customer: “I don’t want to expose my kid to that stuff, so can you tell me where your five-dollar [Pesticide] is?”

(I nod understandingly and show her where it is.)

Me: “You realize that this stuff is highly toxic, and you can’t have your kid or pets on the area for a minimum of three hours?”

Customer: “I’ll take four gallons.”

(She then grabs a box of four, put it in the bottom of her stroller and walks away.)

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