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Back In My Day, A Feather Duster Was Enough

, , , | Right | May 9, 2008

(I was going to get some milk out of a refrigerator while my coworker was taking an order at the drive-thru. Here is the conversation that took place.)

Coworker: “Okay, please pull up to the window.”

Customer: “IF YOU EVER TALK TO ME LIKE THAT AGAIN I WILL HIT YOU UP SIDE THE HEAD WITH A PAY PHONE!”

Me: *leaning out of the refrigerator* “Did she say…”

Coworker: “…a pay phone?”

(As far as we can guess, her child had said something to her and we just overheard her!)

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Oh Noes, I Fails

, , , | Right | April 20, 2008

(I worked as a hostess in a not-particularly large restaurant…)

Me: “Welcome to [Restaurant], how many in your party?”

Man: “Two, but my wife will be meeting me in a few minutes. Can I just sit down now and then you can direct her to my table?”

Me: “Of course.”

(So about thirty minutes goes by and in that time about twenty people come in to be seated. None of them say that they’re meeting anyone. The man I seated earlier eventually comes up to me.)

Man: “You failed me.”

Me: “Excuse me, sir?”

Man: “My wife has been sitting at a table across the room from me for the last twenty minutes because you didn’t direct her to my table!”

Me: “Well I’m sorry, sir, but if she didn’t tell me she was meeting anyone, I would have no way of knowing.”

Man: “I gave you a job! You didn’t do it.”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but my job is to seat everyone who comes through this door. I didn’t ask every single female if they were your wife. I assumed she would either tell me she was meeting someone, or look around the room to see if you were there.”

Man: “You assumed wrong! You FAILED me!”

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Time To Bring Out The Iron Maiden

, , , | Right | April 18, 2008

(I have three tables of teenagers. Everyone seems to understand that this restaurant is themed. We don’t let people use forks, knives, or spoons. You use your hands, end of story.)

Male Customer: “My friend here wants to know how she eats the soup.”

(I look to his friend and sigh to myself.)

Me: “You grab the handle of the bowl, bring it to your mouth, and then sip. Use two hands if it’s too heavy.”

Female Customer: “Okay.”

(She lifts the bowl to her face, but instead of just going for a sip, she turns her head in on it so her nose ends up going in the soup. She flips.)

Female Customer: “Are you s***ting me?! This is bulls***! I shouldn’t have to eat like this! It’s so… so–”

Me: “Medieval.”

(Her friends snicker.)

Female Customer: “Yeah, it is! And I think it’s unfair that I don’t get any utensils! Are you sure I can’t get a fork for my soup?”

Me: “Wait a second; did you just say, ‘fork’? I’m not sure about you, but usually, a spoon works better for me. Also, they don’t exist here.”

(Everyone laughs at her.)

Female Customer: “Fine, fine, I’ll eat with my hands, I guess. If you ask me, it’s just stupid.”

Me: “It’s a part of the experience.”

Female Customer: “But maybe I don’t want the experience!”

(And it’s moments like that, and many others, that make me wonder why anyone would waste 80 bucks for a themed restaurant and not want the experience.)


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Time For A Tenth Circle Of H*ll

, , , | Right | April 18, 2008

(I was working checkout, in the express lane (15 items or less). A lady with a very full trolley comes up.)

Lady: “Hi! Is this an express lane?”

Me: “Yep. You might want to go through another–”

Lady: *starts unloading stuff* “Good. I’m in a hurry.”

Me: “?!”

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Playing Along, Part 2

, , , | Right | April 11, 2008

(I get a call for troubleshooting from a lady who says her remote doesn’t work.)

Me: “Okay, ma’am, could you try changing the channel for me? Tell me if a light flashes on the remote.”

Lady: “Okay.”

(There are a few loud beeps from her phone in my ear and she comes back on the line.)

Lady: “Nope, no flashing.”

Me: “Ma’am you’re trying to change the channel with your phone, not the remote control.”

Lady: “I can’t find the clicker, and I know my neighbor changes channels with her phone.”

(This is before smartphones, so she is talking about the old-style analog phones.)

Me: “Ma’am, that’s just not possible.”

Lady: “Don’t accuse me of lying! I saw her do it with my own eyes.”

Me: “…”

(I try for ten minutes to explain to her why she can’t use her phone, and even make a futile attempt to troubleshoot her phone.)

Me: “Okay, well it looks like your satellite receiver isn’t compatible with your phone.”

Lady: “Yes it is. My neighbor and I have the same phone and same receiver. NOW HELP ME, DUMB-A**!”

Me: “Ma’am, do you have a cordless phone?”

Lady: “Yes!”

Me: “Okay, ma’am, let’s try reprogramming your phone. What I need you to do is press and hold the ‘off’ button for five seconds. This will clear the old code, so we can put the new one in.”

Lady: “Okaay—” *click*

(I hear my supervisor a few rows away from me bust out laughing.)

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