Don’t Swear By His Parenting

, , , , , | Right | June 11, 2018

(A customer is next in line. He is very big, brutish man who is very nastily chewing out his young son.)

Customer: “I don’t give a f*** what you think, you little jacka**. I’m the f****** dad! You listen to what I say!”

Me: “Uh… Sir?”

Customer: *looking up* “What?”

Me: “This is a family establishment, and you need to stop the swearing.”

Customer: “Oh… Sorry.”

(I finish the transaction of the guest in front of him and ring him out.)

Customer: *to his son* “I still can’t believe you! You’re un-f******-believable!”

Me: “Sir! You need to stop the swearing. This is a family establishment.”

Customer: *looking up* “But I wasn’t swearing at you, dips***!”

Me: “I’m calling the manager if this continues.”

Customer: “Okay, sorry.”

(I finish the transaction. The customer is walking away.)

Customer: *to his son* “This place is un-f******-believable! I’ve had it with being told that I can’t swear! Who the f*** do people think they are?!”

(The kicker? Later, I talked to a coworker who heard them before they got in my line. The reason the dad was so mad at his son? Because his son swore. Go figure.)

Sugar-Free Meets Tact-Free

, , , , | | Right | June 11, 2018

(I work for a popular ice cream shop. One evening an older woman comes into the shop.)

Me: “Hi, how are you today?”

Customer: “Good, thank you. I’m wondering if you have any ice cream that is sugar-free; I’m diabetic.”

Me: “Of course. We have a vanilla that is sugar-free.”

Customer: “Oh, is that the only one?”

Me: “Let’s double-check.”

(I walk around to the front of the ice cream display, as there are cards with the ingredients for customers to read. After double-checking, I answer her question.)

Me: “My apologies; vanilla is the only sugar-free flavour we have right now.”

Customer: “That’s okay. I suppose vanilla would be okay… or I could throw caution to the wind and treat myself.”

Me: *laughs* “That is always an option.”

(We spend a few minutes small-talking about life. I realize I need to start closing the store, so I try to steer the conversation back to ice cream, since she hasn’t actually ordered.)

Me: “Have you decided which flavour you would like?”

Customer: “I think I will get the sugar-free vanilla.”

Me: “Great, let me get that for you.”

(I try to pass her to go behind the counter.)

Customer: “Are you required to try everything in the store?”

Me: “It’s recommended that we sample the ice cream and the chocolates that are on display; that way we can best recommend or give an accurate description of the flavours.”

Customer: *smirks, reaches out to touch me, and places her hand on my stomach* “I can tell you have; looks like someone has been indulging while working here.” *proceeds to jiggle my stomach*

Me: *smile quickly fades away* “I’ll get your ice cream.”

(I got her ice cream and said goodnight as she happily skipped out the store with her cone. I happily never saw her again.)

This Is Not A Good Look For Her

, , , , , | Romantic | June 11, 2018

(My girlfriend and I head downtown, where she has repeatedly told me she is going to get me a “surprise.” We stop at a restaurant across from a shopping mall. I order something small, while she orders a fancy half-order of eggs benny. Shortly, our waiter returns.)

Waiter: “Okay, so, there was a mix-up in the kitchen, and instead of making you a half-order, they made you a full order. But don’t worry; we’ll only charge you for the half-order.”

(At this point I’m thinking, great! We can split it! Awesome!)

Girlfriend: “Actually, I want to head across the street for a bit. Can you just hold this for me until I come back?”

Waiter: “Well… we won’t be able to hold it; we’d just make you a new one when you get back…”

Girlfriend: “Okay, I’ll be back soon!”

(I was completely stunned. I wish I had told her to just stay and eat her food, but I was so speechless at her actions I just sat there staring at her as she left. The waiter went to the kitchen to throw the perfectly good meal in the garbage, and returned to ask me to move to a different table off in the corner. I then sat there for an ENTIRE HOUR waiting for my girlfriend to return, and when she got back acted like it was a completely normal thing to do, waited for and ate her original half-order of breakfast, and we left with her acting all bubbly and excited for the rest of the outing we’d had planned. I was too humiliated to personally apologize to our waiter, so I just left him a note on our table and tipped him 100%. When we got home, that night, she finally gave me my surprise: a ”sexy” new outfit for herself. She had taken so long because she had to keep trying on different ones. I wanted to strangle her.)

A Certified Awful Human Being

, , , | Right | June 11, 2018

(The grocery store I work at recently started selling beer. Since we have cashiers who are underage and do not have certification to sell alcohol, we have labeled, designated lanes for beer. A customer comes to my till with two cans of beer.)

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am; I cannot sell this. If you go to Lane #8, the cashier can help you there.”

Customer: “Why can’t you sell me this?”

Me: “I don’t have certification to sell this. Some cashiers have completed the certification and are able to sell it. We have put up signs to show which cashiers can help you.”

Customer: “You will sell me this. You cannot refuse me. I won’t leave. Your manager told me to come here.”

Me: “I can’t sell you this; it’s illegal for me to do so. I don’t think my manager would direct you here. I will call him over here to clear things up.” *reaches for the phone to page my manager*

Customer: *enraged* “PUT THE PHONE DOWN! You are so stupid! If you can’t sell this to me, you should be fired. I refuse to move. Make me, stupid girl.”

(At this point, a supervisor can see the anger and frustration on both sides of the till. She comes over to my till and tells the woman the exact same thing I did. She then proceeds to do the transaction, because she is certified.)

Customer: “That’s right, do it. Haha, stupid girl, thinking I would move. You mean nothing to me.”

(As she was walking away from my till, she continued to ramble, claiming all employees are stupid. She complained to a man who seemed to be a customer; little did she know it was an assistant manager who was coming in to buy groceries. The look on her face when he told her who he was made the last ten minutes worth it.)

If You Treat The Cows Like Crap…

, , , , , , , | Right | June 11, 2018

(I’m 18 in this story, working on a 200,000-acre grazing allotment, basically babysitting 1,200 beef cows for a ranch. The allotment is broken up into sections and we have to move the cattle from one section to the next within a given time frame to avoid fines, and while the area is really remote, there are some hiking trails, a fairly well-known lake, and other places that attract outdoorsy tourists. At this time, the other cowhand and I are moving about 300 head from one allotment to another on the dirt road. The other hand is up front, “pointing” the cows and trying to keep them from heading the wrong way, which isn’t too hard since the road is fairly narrow with a steep hill on one side and a drop-off on the other. I’m at the back on a young horse, pushing the stragglers to keep up. Note that livestock have the right of way and if you hit someone’s cow, you’re responsible. A guy in a shiny sports car comes roaring up on us, honking his horn. Once I get my colt under control I give him a crusty look. He rolls down his window.)

Tourist: “You need to move them off the road. I have places to be!”

Me: “You’re just going to have to wait. As you can see, there are 300 head and the road is narrow. When it’s wide enough up ahead, the cows will spread out and I’ll help you through.”

Tourist: “That won’t work! I need to get through. You need to get them out of the way.”

Me: “Dude, they have the right of way.”

Tourist: “I don’t care. Get them off the road.”

(I look pointedly at the steep hillside and drop-off on the sides of the road.)

Me: “Where?”

Tourist: “That’s not my problem.” *starts honking again*

(The cows ignore him, but my horse shies. While I’m settling him down, the guy revs his car and bumps into the hind legs of one of the cows. I make note of his license plate.)

Me: “If you injure a cow, you’ll be paying for it. State law.”

Tourist: “Where I come from, the cowboys will move the cows out of the way and be polite about it.”

Me: “Go back where you came from, then.”

Tourist: “B****.” *gets to close to cow and acts as if he’ll bump her again*

Cow: *takes massive crap on his hood*

Tourist: “Oh. My. GOD!”

(He finally slowed down and backed off. When the road widened out and the cattle drifted apart, he went blasting through them. The cow was fine, my horse had a good lesson, and two days later the ranch owner stopped in to tell us that the guy had complained to the rangers about us. Luckily, I’d spoken to a forest ranger first chance I got and gave him the guy’s description and plate number, so they had an idea of what happened and they advised him as to our free-range laws.)

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