Customer: “All your rotisserie chickens are overcooked!”

Me: “They all look fine to me, ma’am, A nice golden brown on the outside.”

Customer: “No, they’re always overcooked! Every time I bring one home, it’s been cooked for too long!”

Me: “Well, we do keep them rotating a while to keep the cooking even.”

Customer: “Could I get one that’s only cooked a bit, and I can finish cooking it at home?”

Me: “You want me to sell you a partially cooked chicken?”

Customer: “Yeah.”

Me: “No, ma’am.”

Customer: “Why not?”

Me: “That would still be raw in the middle, so that’s a hard no.”

Customer: “But I said I would cook it at home!”

Me: “We literally have an aisle dedicated to chilled chicken meat, and another to frozen. You can take those home and cook them as little or as much as you want.”

Customer: “But I want a rotisserie chicken!”

Me: “Then you’ll have to take them cooked.”

Customer: “I thought you always gave the customer what they wanted!”

Me: “Not when the customer wants Salmonella.”

Caller: “Hello, yes, I’m expecting a check to be sent to me for my refund.”

After checking the account info:

Me: “Yes, I can see that the $7 check will arrive by Monday next week.”

Caller: “That’s cutting it awfully close to the apocalypse.”

Me: “The… apocalypse?”

Caller: *Nonchalant.* “Yes, the world ends on Tuesday, and I need to make sure my house is full of supplies. Not for me, mind you, I know I’m being raptured, but I’m pretty sure at least one of my kids isn’t going to make it, so I need to make sure they have enough Cheerios.”

Our bank branches have a little kiosk in the lobby that asks customers to rate their experience visiting us. They give us a starred review, and if they want to, provide contact details if they’re okay to be called back to discuss their review.

Part of my job is to call customers who have left our bank a one-star review.

Customer: “Your vending machine gave me Skittles that were almost all purple!”

Me: “Uh… the vending machine in the bank lobby?”

Customer: “Yes!”

Me: “You gave your banking experience a one-star review because the Skittles you purchased from a vending machine in the lobby had a disproportionately high number of the purple kind?”

Customer: “Yes! The vending machine is in your building, so it’s your responsibility!”

Me: “Was there anything unsatisfactory with the banking services you received on your visit to the bank?”

Customer: “Oh, I don’t bank with you. I only go in on my way to work to buy my Skittles.”

A woman comes out of one of the auditoriums with a look of rage.

Customer: “That film is obscene! It’s full of filthy jokes about flatulence and defecation!”

Manager: “Yes, ma’am. That movie is rated PG-13, and one of the reasons is for ‘crude humor’.”

Customer: “That’s my point! Teenagers can watch that! My teenage boys could see it!”

Manager: “Ma’am, who exactly do you think the target audience for poop and fart jokes is?”

The customer would have clutched pearls at that moment if she had any and demanded a manager. When she realized she was talking to one, she called us all obscene and stormed out.

Manager: *To me, a relative newbie at that point.* “You saw that, right? Lesson to learn working in the movies, or well, working with people in general. People will be offended over everything. Just smile and let them rant.”

Me: “Yeah, I learned that from when my mom took me to see Titanic when I was a kid, and we saw Kate Winslet topless. She demanded a refund for my poor, innocent eyes being ruined, ha.”

Manager: “I mean, that’s kinda understandable. A few months ago, a customer demanded a refund and then that we pay for their therapy because the movie involved a death from a car accident, and it triggered them from being in a car accident.”

Me: “Oh, well…”

Manager: “Which is awful, but the movie was Final Destination. So… like I said, smile and let them rant…”

It is the day before Mother’s Day. It’s an hour before closing. A guy comes rushing in.

Customer: “I want a Mother’s Day cake.”

Me: “We have this selection left for today. We can add some custom lettering on the top if you want to personalize it.”

Customer: *Looking at the four cakes we have left.* “This… is it?”

Me: “Well, as you can imagine, it’s been a busy day!”

Customer: “But they’re all so… small.”

Me: “Unfortunately, all of our bigger cakes were all sold this afternoon.”

Customer: “But I need a bigger cake for tomorrow! What time do you open tomorrow?”

Me: “We open at 8 AM tomorrow, but the larger cakes will be prepared around that same time, so we won’t have those on display until closer to 10 AM.”

Customer: “That’s too late! I’ll be on the road by then! I need one for when you open!”

Me: “That would be a custom cake order, then, and since it’s a last-minute rush, the price would be [price].”

Customer: “That’s outrageous! That’s double what these ones cost!”

Me: “Well, remember, that’s for a larger cake, and it’s for a custom order that the baking team would need to get right on as soon as they get in tomorrow at 5 AM.”

Customer: “You’re just charging me extra because I’m desperate!”

Me: “That’s how rush ordering works.”

Customer: “…”

Me: “Shall I put in the order?”

Customer: “F*** you and f*** your rush! Walmart is still open! They got cakes! You just lost a sale!” *Storms out.*

That’s one lucky mother…