Never Sausage A Thing Before, Part 2

| Vancouver, BC, Canada | Right | April 27, 2016

(I work in a fast food restaurant and I receive a call one morning.)

Customer: “Do you guys even clean your grills before putting different kinds of meat on them?!”

Me: “Well, yes, of course, but we only put one kind of meat on each grill.”

Customer: “Yeah, well, my boyfriend just bit into his sandwich and said it tasted like bacon! We didn’t want bacon! He ordered a sausage and egg sandwich!”

Me: “Okay, I am sorry. It is possible there was some bacon grease on either the bread or the grill. I will talk to the kitchen crew.”

Customer: “You don’t understand! He can’t have pork; he is a Muslim!”

Me: “But he ordered a sausage and egg sandwich.”

Customer: “Yes!”

Me: “Okay, then… I guess I will replace that sandwich for you.”

Customer: “Good!” *slams phone*

 

A Night Of Obamadrama

| HI, USA | Right | April 27, 2016

Customer #1: “Oh, these are cute little plates. I’ve been looking for something like this.”

Me: “Yes, they’re from our Fourth of July sale, and right now they’re only 99 cents!”

Customer #1: “I need a fork.”

Me: “Oh, well, we don’t sell silverware individually, but we have these sets of about 20 or more.” *I show her where they are on the wall*

Customer #1: “Oh, here’s one.”

(She rips a fork out of the twining holding it to the set, and under my shocked eyes, lays the plate down and then sets the fork on top of it.)

Customer #1: *after staring at the fork on the plate for a few seconds* “Okay.”

(She picks up the fork and drops in back in the box, and then takes the plate to the register to be rung up. I tape the fork back into the box, while noticing silverware in several other boxes have received the same treatment. Later, I get Customer #2. She is buying a mattress pad, and it is one with two handles built into the plastic case. The handles are cotton, round, and thick; comfy and easy to hold.)

Customer #2: *after I finish ringing her up and tying a small bag to the handles to mark her purchase* “Oh, don’t you have a bag?”

Me: *I look at the handles, and then back to the customer* “Um… sure, let me get you one.”

(I bag it, and Customer #2 walks out holding cheap plastic handles that stretch and dig into your hand. 45 minutes before closing, and I get Customer #3. She sidles up to me, giving me a strange sort of smile, and I smile back and say hello.)

Customer #3: “Want to know what they did to me now?”

Me: “Uh… sure?”

Customer #3: “I was over at [next-door Nail Shop], because I was treating myself to a pedicure for my birthday. And those non-English speaking workers gave me an infection. I had to have all ten of my toe nails removed.”

Me: “Oh…”

Customer #3: “I sued them, for all of what the State of Hawaii will allow you to: $285. My only other choice was to go to their main office in LA, and I would have to get an attorney for California for that. I came here today because the girl at [Cosmetics Cart downstairs] offered me a free facial a week ago. I got a terrible rash, and when I went to see the doctor I went into anaphylactic shock. Here, I have pictures—”

(By the time she starts digging out her smartphone, I suddenly remember that two years ago she came into the store with a cast on, and I had sympathetically pointed it out. That led to a 20-minute rant on the child who ran a shopping cart into her at [Other Store], and how much she hates kids and parents who don’t watch their kids, and going shopping, and living here, and Hawaii in general, and her husband’s job forcing them to live here, etc. All with wide, intense eyes and jerky hand gestures, without waiting for any response, she starts up a brand new rant today while I’m forced to look at pictures of her facial rash, and her rant about things she hates.)

Customer #3: “—and we can’t go home until my husband retires, and that won’t be for a few years yet. He refuses to retire while Obama is in office, because he doesn’t want to have Obama’s signature on his retirement papers.”

(A coworker walks past, glancing at us, and I try to give him a look that says “Save me!”)

Customer #3: “And I am SO ASHAMED at living where Obama SUPPOSEDLY grew up. My husband blames Obama for everything, but I only blame him for about half of everything.”

(My brain melts while the customer continues her scary-eyed rant for another twenty-five minutes.)

Customer #3: “…and I hate shopping. I only come in here because it’s air-conditioned and the weather is horrible outside, but at least I feel that [my Department Store] has quality merchandise, and they know how to treat their customers. Bye, now.”

(She wanders away, now that it’s ten minutes to closing. The same coworker comes back over.)

Coworker: “I wasn’t sure. Should I have saved—”

Me: “YES.”

Blame Canada!

| | Right | April 27, 2016

Retail Doge

| Right | April 27, 2016

Blame Canada!

| Right | April 27, 2016
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