A Bunch Of Regular A**holes

, , , , , , , , | Right | November 8, 2017

(I operate an ice cream parlor in a small seasonal family resort. Business is slow and the shop is intended to be run by one person. Ice cream is served in the customer’s choice of a cup or in one of three different types of cones, which are stored in plain sight, right behind the ice cream freezer. A couple walks into the shop; they are my only customers at the time.)

Me: *genuinely happy, because these are the first people I have seen in a while* “Hey, guys! How are you doing today?”

(Neither of them responds; they just walk up to inspect the different flavors visible through the glass freezer. I don’t really let it get me down; this happens a lot.)

Me: “Let me know what I can get you, whenever you’re ready.”

Woman: “Cookies and cream.”

Me: “Sure thing! In a cup or a cone?”

Woman: “Cone.”

Me: *I point to each of the types of cones on display as I say their names* “Sure. Would you like a sugar cone, cake cone, or this big waffle cone for an extra 50 cents?”

Woman: “Regular.”

Me: “Sorry, which type of cone? I have this smaller sugar cone here on the left, this flat one in the middle is the cake cone, and this big one here on the right is the waffle cone that costs an extra 50 cents.”

Woman: “I said, ‘regular.’”

(She jabs her finger vaguely in the direction of the entire rack of cones from the opposite end of the counter, but I have no way of telling which one she’s pointing at. I make a judgment call based on my best guess at where she pointed and pick up a cake cone.)

Me: “Sure, would you like one scoop or t—”

Woman: “No, d*** it. Listen to me. I want a regular cone. Regular. I’m speaking English here!”

Man: *to me* “Yeah, dude. Come on, she said it three times now. Are you having a bad day or something?”

Me: “Woah, hey. Different people mean different things when they say, ‘regular.’ I’m just trying to get you what you want. Is that the small sugar cone on the left, or the big waffle cone on the right?”


(My patience is wearing thin. I carry the whole cone rack over and put it on the counter in front of her.)

Me: “Ma’am, I’m going to need you to stop yelling. I still don’t know what kind of cone you want. ‘Regular’ isn’t one of the options, no matter what country you come from. The small cone on the left is the sugar cone. The big cone on the right is the waffle cone. Say one of those words, or point to one, or leave. Those are your choices.”

Woman: *points to the sugar cone, which is the smaller one of the two* “That one! The regular cone! We call that a regular cone in America!”

Man: “How do you work in an ice cream shop and not know that?”

(I scoop her the ice cream and try to recollect myself before handing it to her.)

Me: “There you are. Sorry about the confusion. Can I get you anything, sir?”

Man: “Yeah, rocky road on a big regular cone.”

(I guess correctly that “big regular” means “waffle,” since at least he used some sort of descriptive word for me to go by. I scoop his ice cream and ring them both up. The man pays for them both with cash, and I hand him back the change.)

Me: *in complete cheerful customer service autopilot* “There’s your change. Have a nice day!”

Woman: “F*** you.” *she grabs the man’s hand with the change, fishes through it, extracts two pennies, and slams them angrily into my tip jar* “Here’s what your customer service was worth to me!”

Bad Customer Number One

, , , , , | Right | November 8, 2017

(The store I work in is being re-modeled and the closest bathrooms are downstairs.)

Customer: “Where is the bathroom?”

Me: “Downstairs. The elevators are just over there.”

Customer: “Is it far? My son really has to go.”

Me: “It’ll take you two minutes to get there.”

Customer: “I don’t think he’ll make it.”

(She walks away at this point with her son. I turn to my coworkers to figure out who is going to clean the jean wall, empty the dressing rooms, and straighten the tables. I do the jeans.)


(She really says, ”pee pee,” as it is the kids department. The woman has let her son pee on the clothes in the dressing room. I put trash bags on my hands and grab the trash can.)

Me: “I’ll pick it up. They could have peed on the cheap clothes. He peed on the Dockers.”

(That’s when I picked up the top pair and found the poo poo.)

Drugs: It’s Always The Real Thing

, , , , | Learning | November 8, 2017

(My friends and I are having a discussion about the different words for soda during lunch. [Friend #2] in particular uses the word “pop.”)

Friend #1: “Pop is a sound. Soda is a drink. Coke… is a drug?”

(Cue us trying our best not to choke on our food.)

Giving You The 411 On Your Scam

, , , | Right | November 7, 2017

(I work as a telephone operator. We have routing and billing issues where if an operator transfers a customer to directory we are unable to bill the call, so when we get a call requesting transfer we will instruct the customer to dial 411. This weakness is quickly discovered by customers, and we get many requests for transfer, which we are to refuse and give dialing instructions, instead.)

Customer: “I want to be transferred to directory.”

Me: “Please hang up and dial 411 for directory assistance.”

Customer: “114?” *obviously engaging in social engineering*

Me: “411, sir.”

Customer: “144?”

Me: “Actually, sir, there is not much point in you calling directory, anyway.”

Customer: “Why do you say that?”

Me: “They will give you a seven-digit number. You seem to be unable to get a three-digit number correct.”

Customer: “F*** you!” *click*

1 Thumbs

A Realization As Cold As Ice

, , , , , , , | Learning | November 7, 2017

(We are learning about the Vikings in English class. The teacher has just begun talking about how the Vikings were great explorers and reached America in circa AD 1000. [Classmate #1] is quite rude and thinks everyone should be on her side.)

Teacher: “They came from Iceland, which they discovered 150 years earlier…”

Classmate #1: *rather accusingly* “But they didn’t discover it, did they, Miss?”

Teacher: *bewildered* “What do you mean? It says so right here—”

Classmate #1: *smugly* “It says nothing about the native Icelanders. Is it like with the Native Americans, and the Vikings just—” *makes finger quotes* “—’discovered’ Iceland first? Did they erase their culture from the history books?”

([Classmate #1] is smiling, as if she has stumbled upon a great secret.)

Teacher: “Okay, just humour me for a second.”

(She brings up an online video of where each place was discovered, from the first humans in central Africa. At Viking exploration, she pauses it.)

Teacher: “Just concentrate for a second.”

(The video clearly states that the Vikings were the first to reach Iceland, due to its remoteness. [Classmate #1] is shrieking in uproar as we struggle not to laugh.)

Classmate #1: “That can’t be right! It’s a conspiracy! The Vikings were white! White people never arrive anywhere first!”

Classmate #2: “What about the Moon?”

([Classmate #1] ran out, screaming that she was going to get the principal and that the teacher was racist.)

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