A Sprinkle Of Idiocy Is Too Much

, , , , | Right | January 16, 2020

I work at a popular coffee chain known for serving ungodly sugary iced blender drinks. 

I am making drinks while a coworker rings. I get an order for two venti cotton candy frappes with whipped cream made with heavy cream. Just to be clear, this has four pumps of frappe syrup, three scoops of vanilla bean sugar powder, and six pumps of raspberry syrup. The recipe calls for pink sprinkles if the customer asks for whipped cream, so I put some on. This customer is the definition of a basic white girl, wearing North Face, a scrunchy in a messy bun, and Uggs. 

She leans over and says, “OH, MY GOD! Can you please take off the sprinkles if possible? That’s WAAAY too much sugar!” 

It takes all of my soul to not straight up say that the sprinkles are probably the healthiest thing in there.

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Hell’s Opening

, , , , | Right | January 16, 2020

(I am working for security at a college football game, and part of my job is to make sure that all drinks brought into the game are unopened. This event occurs between me and an older man.)

Me: “Is that water opened?”

Man: “No”

Me: “Okay!” *steps aside to let him pass*

Man: *steps close to me* “How do you know I’m not lying?”

Me: *trying to think of a response*

Man: “I’d go to Hell, then, wouldn’t I?” *slowly walks away*

Me: *speechless*

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It’s A Shame Being Nice Is A Special Behavior

, , , | Right | January 16, 2020

(In high school, I work evening shifts as a cashier at a popular fast food chain. When there are no customers in the lobby, I also do custodial work. On this particular evening, business is very slow, so I decide to sweep behind the counter. There is a catchy song playing on the speakers, and I become so deeply absorbed in my sweeping and humming that I don’t notice a young couple entering the lobby.)

Customer: “EXCUSE ME!”

(I get startled and drop my broom. I would be the first to admit that I probably looked pretty silly.)

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry; I didn’t see you come in! Just a second.”

(I pick up the broom and lean it against the counter, but it immediately slides down and hits the ground with a loud clattering sound. I wince and decide to let it go for now.)

Me: “Sorry about that! Welcome to [Fast Food Chain]; may I take your order?”

(The woman has been staring at me this whole time. Now she smiles in an odd way I can’t quite interpret.)

Customer: “It’s okay, honey, don’t worry!” 

(She gives her order in an exaggeratedly loud, slow voice, and then steps back from the counter to give the young man a turn. Before he orders, she says to him in a loud stage whisper:)

Customer: “Be nice to her; I think she’s ‘special’!”

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When Sales Tax Attacks

, , , , , | Right | January 16, 2020

(I work in a discounted retail store in Colorado, where the tax rate in my city is currently 8.02%. I’m the acting manager at the moment, but the store manager is in the building doing her office work and would prefer not to be disturbed. I get called up to the registers for a customer issue.)

Me: “What seems to be the problem?”

Customer: “Your cashier falsely charged me tax on my purchase,”

Me: “I’m… sorry, what do you mean by falsely?”

(The man takes out his driver’s license and throws it on the counter, along with his credit card. His license says he’s from Washington state.)

Customer: “You charged me 8.02% tax. I’m from Washington, so I don’t pay taxes.”

(I look over at my cashier, who just shrugs, like she’s already tried to explain it to him, but he’s not having it. I send her to another register so she can continue to check out the line of customers that has developed behind this man.)

Me: “Sir, it really doesn’t matter if you’re from Washington or not. You’re shopping in Colorado, so you have to pay our sales tax.”

Customer: “No, that’s wrong. I don’t pay tax! You need to fix it!”

Me: “I’m sorry, but there isn’t much that I can do. Our registers automatically charge our state and sales tax, we can’t take it off,”

Customer: “You are breaking the law by doing this! You’re going to fix this! Now! I’m from Washington! I do not pay tax!”

(I’m 100% positive that I can’t get the tax taken off, or that I’m breaking the law, but I search through the register’s options to humor him. He is watching me and the screen very closely, and when I find an option for tax-exempt, he points to it.)

Customer: “There. That one. Give me that one. I am tax-exempt. I live in a tax-exempt state.”

Me: “Sir, that option is only for businesses that have applied for it. Unless you own a business, and you can show me paperwork to prove it, I can’t give you tax-exempt.”

Customer: “You will give me tax-exempt! I am from Washington. We do not have taxes there. Take the tax off.”

Me: “Sir, I can’t do that unless you have proof that you really are tax-exempt–“


(We’re going around in circles, and I don’t tolerate people yelling at me. I tell him if my answer cannot satisfy him, then I would be more than willing to call in my store manager, but she will give him the same answer. He has me call her, and when she comes up to customer service and I explain everything, lo and behold, she tells him the exact same thing.)

Customer: “NO! I do not pay tax! I am from Washington!”

Store Manager: “Doesn’t matter. You shop in Colorado, you pay Colorado tax. It’d be the same thing if we went up to Washington. Now, you can either accept that and leave with your purchase, or we can return the items you’ve bought and refund you for the full amount, including sales tax.”

(The customer chooses to take the refund, cussing under his breath about stupid tax and stupid Colorado breaking the law. By the time he leaves the store, the line is twice the size before I started talking to him, so I stay to help check out customers. The customer I call next has heard the entire exchange between me and the Washington man.)

Customer #2: “He was lying. About the sales tax? Washington charges 6.5% state sales tax.”

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Her Behavior Took A U-Turn

, , , , , | Right | January 16, 2020

(I’m a driver for a particular rideshare company. I have a passenger in my car who’s been quiet, for the most part, until I approach an intersection where I’m to turn right. The light is red and there’s a blind corner, meaning I can’t see what’s approaching from the left until it’s right in front of me. For this reason, I’m waiting for the light to turn green before I make the turn. I mean, duh.)

Passenger: “Uh, I don’t see a ‘no right turns on red’ sign here.”

(I’m about to say something like, “Excuse me?” when all of a sudden a wave of cars comes zooming along from the left. There was no warning. If I’d been in the intersection they definitely would have hit me.)

Me: “Yeah, as you can see, the corner’s blind.”

(Later on, she berated me for pulling over on the right side of the street to let her out instead of making an illegal — and dangerous — U-turn. Sadly, she’s not even the first passenger I’ve had who seems to think I’m immune to the laws of physics and traffic. One star for her.)

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