Remain As Cold As Ice

(I’m a manager in a well-known fast food restaurant.)

Customer: “You a**holes are trying to kill me!”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, what’s the problem?”

Customer: “You stupid mother-f***ers are trying to kill me!”

Me: “I assure you we’re not trying to kill you. Could you please tell me what’s wrong?”

Customer: “I ordered a [Soda] with no f****** ice, and you stupid mother-f***ers filled the cup with ice! I am deathly allergic to ice!”

Me: “I’m really sorry about that, ma’am. Let me fix that for you.”

Customer: “You’d better fix it. And I want my f****** money back, you stupid mother-f***er. I’m going to call the district office and have you all fired.”

Me: “Sure. I need to get that number from my office, as well as a refund slip for you to sign.”

(She continues to call me assorted names as I walk away.)

Me: “Sorry about the wait. Just print your name and sign. You can include a contact number if you’d like the district manager to call you.”

Customer: “I’m calling the f***ing office first thing tomorrow morning.”

Me: “I apologize again. Here’s your money, and here’s your [Soda], no ice, to which you are deathly allergic. I’m really sorry for the inconvenience. Have a good night.”

(She leaves the store still cussing up a storm.)

Next Customer: “That was amazing. Your facial expression didn’t change a bit the whole time.”

Me: “That’s because a decade of working customer service has left me dead inside. Now I’m going outside for a cigarette to try to finish off the rest of me.”

(The next morning I got a phone call from the district manager about how I was rude and unsympathetic to her serious medical issue, which she conveniently didn’t explain to him. I faxed him the refund slip with the reason for refund: Customer is deathly allergic to the solid form of water. He ended up praising me for not physically assaulting her.)