She’s Allergic To Calming The F*** Down

, , , | Right | September 25, 2020

My boss owns several popular sandwich franchise stores. He recently decided to buy a store from an owner being kicked out of the franchise. As a result of the forced sale, the former owner gave up on customer service, fired all his staff, and left the restaurant an absolute mess for us to deal with.

On our first day there, I get in early to clean and organize. We have been open for thirty minutes when a car screeches up to our storefront and an angry lady comes stomping inside, brandishing one of our sandwiches. 

Angry Lady: “I’d like to speak to your manager!”

Me: “I’m the manager, ma’am. How can I help you?”

Angry Lady: “My husband came in an hour ago to pick up my lunch. He asked for no mustard! I’m allergic to mustard!”

She slams the sub on the counter and opens it to reveal the bright yellow mustard coating the sub. 

Me: “I’m terribly sorry for the mistake, ma’am. I’m glad you noticed before you bit into it. May I have your receipt so I can refund you? Then I’ll remake your food with no mustard.”

Angry Lady: “I don’t have the receipt. I told you. My husband bought it for me an hour ago.”

Me: “That’s okay, ma’am. We haven’t been open long and have only had a few customers. I can look it up manually.”

I check the transactions from that day. No one has purchased a ham sandwich that day. Because we just bought the store, the computer displays only today’s transactions, as the previous transactions were on the old owner’s account. Any refunds must be made from him, not us.

Me: “Ma’am, is it possible your husband purchased this yesterday? I’m not seeing any sales today that match your order.”

Angry Lady:No! He bought it today! An hour ago!”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am. We haven’t been open more than a half an hour. Are you sure it was from this location?”

Angry Lady:Yes! It was here! We only come here! I don’t know why we keep coming back. You people always mess up our orders and give us such terrible service!”

She is already yelling very loudly; the customers in the lobby are beginning to stare and my coworker has poked his head out of the kitchen to see what’s going on. I’m a bit hurt that the blame of the old staff and owner is being put on me, but I’m determined not to let it show. 

Me: “I’m sorry you had a bad experience with this location before. We are under new management, as of today; and I will do my best to fix—”

Angry Lady: “You had better give me my money back!”

Me: “I will do my best, ma’am. If your husband bought this yesterday, I cannot refund—”

Angry Lady: *Screaming* “It wasn’t yesterday. It was today! Refund! Right now!”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but no one has made a purchase today that matches your order, especially no orders with food allergy requests. The best I can do is put you in touch with the old owner, in case the order was on his account yesterday. I will make you a new sub right now, free of charge, for your trouble.”

I start making a sub identical to the one she returned, minus the mustard. I just want her gone. She starts pacing the counter and angrily muttering. 

Angry Lady: “I can’t believe you won’t refund me! I could have died! If I hadn’t noticed the mustard, I would be on my way to the hospital right now!”

Me: “As I said, ma’am, no one has purchased a ham sandwich today. I can’t refund what we haven’t charged you. And I am replacing your sandwich for free.”

She slams her hand against the glass and screams.

Angry Lady: “THAT’S NOT GOOD ENOUGH! You are just the rudest little s***! I want to speak to your store owner! I’m going to get you fired! Every time I come in here, you give me attitude. And now you don’t want to refund me after you almost poisoned me!

Me: “Ma’am, I’ve never met you before! We just—”

Angry Lady: “I make my husband come in for me now, because I don’t want to deal with you! And he’s told me you’re always rude to him, too. You’re not getting away with it this time! I’m gonna get you f****** fired! And I’m going to sue you for trying to kill me by poisoning my sandwich with mustard! I bet you did it on purpose!”

She is literally screaming at the top of her lungs. I was angry before, but now, I lose it. I slam her half-finished sandwich onto the counter. 

Me: “Listen, lady! I have never seen you before. This is my first day here! We just bought the store! I don’t know who you are, or why you are so rude. I am doing my best to try to help you, but you are blaming me for things that I have not done! You need to get out of my store right now!”

Angry Lady:Liar! I know your face! You deal with us all the time! I bet you recognized my husband and intentionally put mustard on my food because you knew I was allergic!”

Me: “Lady, we make the subs right in front of you! How could I put mustard on it without your husband noticing?! Get out of my store!”

She begins a string of profanities about how terrible we are and how we all want her dead by poisoning her. She even accuses the kitchen staff of hiding mustard on the ham before we put it in the sub to trick her husband. 

Me: “Lady, if you’re as rude to your husband as you’ve just been to me, I wouldn’t be surprised if he asked for the mustard on your sandwich himself!

The angry lady stopped, sputtered, and then turned and stomped out the door. When I told my boss about it later, he almost died laughing and told me not to worry about her. We never heard from her or her husband again.

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