Customer: “Can I have a Cranberry Vodka?”
Me: “Sure.”
(I make the drink by pouring the vodka in first and then adding cranberry juice. Pretty simple.)
Customer: “Why did you put all that water in my drink?”
Me: “Water?”
Customer: “Yeah, the clear liquid you poured in the cup.”
Me: “That’s the vodka.”
Customer: “Oh, this is gonna be a long night…”
(I work in a convenience store. We usually work in pairs because of the neighborhood, but my coworker is running late. A couple of regulars of mine find out and decide that they’ll hang out until he shows up. I’m female. We are chatting when a very obviously inebriated man comes stumbling into the store and up to the counter. He reeks of urine and has a gun in his hand, which he lays on the counter.)
Drunk Customer: “Gimme [Brand Of Cigarettes].”
Me: *trying not to look at his gun* “Long or short?”
Drunk Customer: “Short.”
Me: “Okay.”
(I hand him his cigs, and he fumbles with his wallet, still holding the gun. He tosses me some money, grabs the pack of cigarettes, and stumbles out without waiting for his change. I take a deep breath, pick up the phone, and dial 911.)
Me: “Um, yeah, there’s a drunk man with a gun wandering around [Street]. You might want to pick him up.”
(After I hang up, one of my regulars, who’d backed up slowly into the aisles during this exchange, comes up to me.)
Regular: “D***, you’ve got balls of steel!”
This story is part of the Convenience Store roundup!
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(It is a busy Saturday night. During the dinner rush, I have been dealing with a table of two 20-something year old men. The blonde one has found something to complain about every time I’ve walked by while the brown-haired one just blushes and stays quiet. They’ve finished their meal.)
Blonde Man: “Are you new here?”
Me: “No, sir. I’ve been a waitress here for two years and three years at [other restaurant] prior.”
Blonde Man: “Then you have no excuse for how terrible this service was. The salad was wilty, and the entree was way too cold, and you were nowhere to be found. Plus, this place is far too noisy; I could barely hear myself speak! Honestly, I get better service at a fast food place.”
Me: “I’m sorry you feel that way. While there isn’t much I can do about the noise, I did offer to bring you different food before, but you said no.”
Blonde Man: *waves me off* “Just bring me the check, and try not to be so slow about it for once.”
(I go and get the check, but when I return, the brown-haired man stands up and hands me a $20 bill.)
Brown-haired Man: “Here, this is your tip. He wasn’t going to give you one. As a former waiter myself, I thought you were doing a perfectly fine job. My food was great, and the service was fast even though you’re so busy right now.”
(He turns to his blonde companion.)
Brown-haired Man: “People like you made my job so much worse, especially for making us work that much harder for no tip. So thanks for the meal, but you can go ahead and delete my number because there will be no second date. And by the way, potjevleesch is supposed to be served cold, you idiot.”
(With that, he left the restaurant without his date. It made the whole night worth it, to see that blonde man speechless for once.)
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Me: “‘Strawberries Wild’ for [name]! ‘Strawberries Wild’ for [name]!” *customer comes up* “Hey, here’s your ‘Strawberries Wild’.”
Customer: “This doesn’t have strawberries in it, does it? I’m deathly allergic to strawberries.”
Me: *blink* “…Let me make you a new smoothie…”
