The Wrong Food Is Because You’re In The Wrong

, , , | Right | April 2, 2020

(I am working at the counter right next to the door so when someone gets the wrong order in our drive-thru, they come straight to my register.)

Customer #1: “Hello. It looks like I got the wrong food.”

Me: “I’m terribly sorry about that! Do you happen to have your receipt? If not, I can look it up for you.”

Customer #1: “I have my receipt here. And this is the food I got. None of it is mine.”

Me: “Again, ma’am, I’m very sorry. Let me get this replaced for you.”

(As I relay the order to the grill, another customer stomps through the door.)

Customer #2: “You gave me the wrong food again! I swear this happens every time I come here!”

Me: “I’m so sorry we got your order mixed up. Do you have your receipt with you, sir?”

Customer #2: “You know I don’t.”

Me: “Okay. It will be just a moment while I look up your receipt so we can get your food replaced.” *looks it up* “Okay, I found your receipt! I’ll just get this to the grill and your food will be up in a moment.”

Customer #2: “Just hurry up! I came through the drive-thru because it’s supposed to be fast! Now I’m wasting my time here when I have places I need to be!”

(As he is ranting, the first customer’s food comes up. When I try to hand it to her, the second customer snatches it from my hands.)

Customer #2: “It’s about time!”

Me: “Sir! I’m afraid that’s not your order. It’s this lady’s order. She was ahead of you.”

(He throws the food back on the counter as the lady steps up to take it. She clears her throat and speaks very loudly to me while staring at the second customer.)

Customer #1: “Thank you for being so polite and fixing my order, miss. I know it was no fault of yours that I was accidentally given the wrong food. I’m sure I will have a fantastic day now, so I hope you do, too!”

(She leaves and the second customer remains quiet until his food comes up.)

Me: “Sorry for the wait, sir. Have a good day!”

Customer #2: “Thanks… You, too…”

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You Catch More Fries With Honey Mustard

, , , , | Right | April 1, 2020

(This takes place at a fast food place across the street from a major regional hospital, so it’s always busy, especially the drive-thru. When I walk in, I notice an older woman, with whom I assume is her daughter, trying to place an order on one of their new self-ordering boards. I get in line to order at the register. A few moments later, the woman goes ballistic.)

Customer: “This is ridiculous! All I want to do is place an order. Why is everything so difficult? You!”

(She points to an employee who appears from the back, carrying another customer’s order.)

Customer: “Why doesn’t this thing work?”

(The employee hands the order to the intended customer and then comes over to help.)

Employee #1: “How can I help you?”

Customer: “I can’t get this thing to work! All I want to do is place an order. This lady is trying to help me but she can’t make it work, either.”

(So, the woman with her isn’t her daughter. The two women go to the board to try to place her order. Another employee appears to take the next order at the cash register.)

Customer: “No! No, this isn’t working. Why doesn’t anything work?”

(She sees the new employee at the cash register.)

Customer: “All I want to do is place an order. Can you take my order?”

Employee #2: “Of course, ma’am. Just let me finish this order.”

(The customer then turns to me.)

Customer: “I don’t have time for this. I’m in a hurry. All I want is to order one simple thing. I don’t understand why I have to go through all this. I waited here at the register for five minutes and no one was here to take my order.”

(I catch the startled look on the cashier’s face. It’s a busy lunch hour and he is moving constantly between the back and the register, but he can’t have left the register unmanned for more than thirty seconds or so. I roll my eyes at him, letting him know I don’t believe her, either. He finishes with the customer in front of me, and I gently nudge the woman forward.)

Me: “Here, you go ahead.”

Customer: “Oh, no, you’re next.”

Me: “No, no, you’re frustrated and upset and obviously in a hurry. You only want one item, so go ahead. I insist.”

(She protests again, I insist again, and she goes ahead and places her order. She only wants an apple pie. She pays with her card, getting frustrated again because the card reader isn’t reading fast enough to suit her. While this is going on, [Employee #1] gets her order in a bag and hands it to her as soon as she finishes paying and she leaves.

I step forward, smile knowingly at [Employee #2], and place my order. He rings it in… and then zeroes out the payment.)

Me: “Oh, but—”

Employee #2: “Don’t worry about it. You were nice to her, so I’ll be nice to you.”

(I thanked him and enjoyed my free lunch. See, it pays to be polite!)

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The Ending Of This Story Is The Cherry On Top

, , , , , , , | Right | March 31, 2020

(I run a fresh produce stall every Sunday at a local market. Everything is homegrown by either my dad or my grandpa. I’ve had people try to haggle on prices but as it’s extremely popular and we usually run out by the end of the day, I refuse.

I’m serving a customer when I see a guy in his fifties pick up a bunch of grapes and walk off, eating them. There’s not much I can do. Fifteen minutes later, I’m just finishing serving a customer when the guy comes back and starts picking through the cherries, eating the ones he likes, and spitting the seeds back into the box.)

Me: “Excuse me. Please don’t do that.”

Guy: “What? Don’t tell me what to do.”

(As I can no longer sell the cherries, I grab the box, roughly five kilos.)

Me: “Look, you already took a bunch of grapes and now I can’t sell these. You need to either pay for the grapes and the cherries or leave and not come back.”

(The guy turns red with anger.)

Guy: “Listen here, b****. I can do what I want. Since you’re not going to sell them, just give them to me.”

(The guy goes to grab the box.)

Me: “Leave now. And don’t come back; you’re no longer welcome here.”

(He goes to grab me when my previous customer grabs him by the arm.)

Customer: “Mate, I’d leave her alone if I were you, unless you want me to kick you from one end of the carpark to the other.”

(The guy goes to take a swing at him but realises that he’s at least 6’6” and almost all muscle.)

Guy: “It’s all s***, anyway. All you do is buy stuff at the supermarket and mark up the price.”

Me: “You seem to like it, considering you’ve eaten at least $10 worth. Now leave.”

(The muscular customer is still holding the guy by one arm.)

Customer: “Pay the nice lady for what you’ve eaten and made unsellable, and if I ever see you harassing her or anyone else here again, I’ll be using you for footy practice.”

(The guy reached into his pocket, pulled out $20, and threw it at me. The customer let him go and he ran off. I thanked the customer and offered him a refund and extra fruit but he declined. It turned out that his girlfriend was another stall holder, and from then on we always got stalls next to each other. I’m going to be a bridesmaid at their wedding in a few months!)

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The Wrong Kind Of Whistleblower

, , , , | Right | March 28, 2020

I work at a department store, and I am helping a teenage girl with her items. Suddenly, an old gentleman appears and snaps at me. I turn to him politely and say, “I’ll be right with you, sir; just a moment.”

He waits for about five seconds and then snaps at me again. I give him the same response. He waits about thirty seconds before snapping, and without seeing a reaction, does an ear-piercing taxi whistle. All the other people in the vicinity cringe except for the young girl I am helping.

Without missing a beat, she responds, “Sir, if you’re going to whistle at them like dogs, then you’d better be prepared to get b****y service.”

Everyone laughs, and the man slinks off, embarrassed.

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Cool Old Ladies Can Be A Retail Worker’s Best Friend

, , , , , | Right | March 17, 2020

(I am ringing up a woman and her teenage daughter.)

Guest: “I just don’t understand why you can’t give me a discount.”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but the sale ended yesterday.”

Guest: “I just think you’re being a b****.”

(She leaves. The elderly woman behind her has been eyeing her with disgust.)

Elderly Guest: *with a thick Georgia accent* “Now, don’t you pay her no mind. People like her don’t know how to be classy.”

Me: “I suppose so.”

(As I’m ringing her up, I notice a tattoo on her right hand in the shape of a diamond. She also has a large diamond wedding ring on her left hand.)

Me: “I love your tattoo!”

Guest: “Oh, why, thank you! Was quite a scandal when I got it, but I don’t really care. Diamonds are a girl’s best friend, you know. Make sure your boyfriend buys you a nice one, now!”

(She leaves. Absolutely made my day.)

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