I work at a bakery that also sells random drinks. A customer buys a bottle of kombucha for her son without knowing what it actually is. Kombucha happens to be a weird hipster drink that has naturally occurring alcohol. (It’s not enough alcohol to get you even tipsy, so you don’t need to be twenty-one to buy it.) And it tastes like straight-up vinegar — at least to me. 

It’s no surprise when her seven-year-old son hates the drink. That’s when his mother realizes that the label says that there’s naturally occurring alcohol in it. She comes back to me and starts screaming. 

Customer: “I should call the police! You knowingly sold an alcoholic drink to a seven-year-old!”

Me: “You’re actually the one who came up to the counter to buy the drink, not your son. You said nothing about buying the drink for your son.”

Customer: “Where is your supervisor?!”

Supervisor: “I’m coming! I heard! Let’s just skip the part where you try to sue us or call the police to divert attention away from the part where you f***ed up as a parent when really all you want to do is replace the drink that your son doesn’t want to drink.”

Customer: “That is not what is happening!”

Supervisor: “So, you’re saying that if I replace your son’s drink with something else, you still won’t go away?” 

Customer: “…”

Supervisor: “…”

Customer: “He’ll take an apple juice.”

Supervisor: “Splendid!”

From that supervisor, I learned how to quickly cut through customer BS and get straight to the point. Such a time-saver!

A coworker from my bakery calls me.

Coworker: “I know it’s early, but I just wanted to let you know that when you start your shift, you’ll be opening.”

Me: “But I don’t start until 11:00 am. What happened to [Manager]? Isn’t he opening?”

Coworker: “Something came up, and he can’t make it in. He asked me to check if you have keys.”

Me: “I do. Thanks for letting me know.”

I decide to head in a little early since the manager and owner are great guys and are always nice to me. When I get to the bakery, I can see a hastily written sign on the door from my manager. I am reminded that English is not his first language.

He comes in later in the afternoon, and some of our regulars keep asking him the same question.

Manager: *To me* “Why do they all keep asking me about my procedure and then smiling?”

Me: “Maybe because your sign this morning said, ‘Closed due to personal circumcisions’?”

We have sweet biscuits with icing on top. Every weekend, this lady comes in and wants them fresh, with extra icing. But every time, something is wrong. 

Customer: “These are too cold!” 

Me: “That’s due to the extra icing on top of it.”

We have told her this repeatedly. This time, we give her the biscuit fresh out of the oven, loaded down with icing. But still: 

Customer: “These are too cold!” 

Manager: “The only way to get it any hotter would be to melt the icing in the microwave, which we will not do.”

Customer: “Why?!” 

Manager: “Because sugar is hotter than the seven sons of Hell when it’s heated up like that, and no matter how much you deserve it, I’ll be d***ed if I’m giving you an excuse to have a lawsuit against us.”

Customer: “There was a hair in my food!” 

Me: “I’m very sorry. We all wear hairnets in the kitchen, so that’s the first time that’s happened.”

Customer: “I don’t care. Comp my meal.” 

My manager comps the meal, and we all move on with our lives. Sadly, the next week, she’s back, and she complains about having a hair in her food again.

Manager: “May I see the hair?” 

Customer: “You don’t believe me?!”

Manager: “It’s just that we’ve never had this complaint before, and now it’s happened to you twice, so if someone in the kitchen needs training, I’d like to identify them from the hair.”

The customer does indeed produce a long blonde string of hair from her mostly-eaten salad. She is also blonde herself. The manager thanks her and comps the meal.

She comes back a week later, and this time, my manager and I are watching her like a hawk. We see her place one of her hairs in the bowl and make the same complaint.

Manager: “Ma’am, I saw you put that in your salad. We will not be comping your meal. Please leave.”

She kicks up a fuss, but she does leave. We are later informed by the district manager over the phone that she called corporate, complained, got a whole bunch of credits, and will be coming in tomorrow to use them. 

Manager: “She is intentionally putting her own hair in the food. We have seen her do this, and she is scamming us.”

District Manager: “I understand. Here’s what I would like to do…”

They discuss their plan.

The next day, the district manager herself is in the store on a “site visit”. The customer smugly walks in, orders her free salad, and enjoys it. Funnily enough, there’s no hair to be found in her salad when it’s free. 

The district manager stays all week, and the customer, now brazen with entitlement, is back a mere two days later. 

And guess who finds a hair in her food? The district manager goes over to her.

District Manager: “Ma’am, this is your last day eating in any of our cafés. You are putting your own hair in the food. You are banned from the whole chain. We are refusing your refund today, and I am informing all stores to refuse you service in the future.” 

Customer: “You can’t prove it’s my hair!”

District Manager: “The hair is long and blonde, like yours. This week, we are training all new staff, who just so happen to have black hair or have it shaved short.” 

Customer: “So, am I going to have to complain to corporate again?”

District Manager: “I have already explained to our corporate office that you cause us to lose money every week. You are absolutely not our customer, you are a liability, and you are no longer welcome here. Leave, now.” 

She left, and amazingly, she still called the corporate office to complain! They’d already been apprised of the situation by our district manager, so they told her that if she stepped foot into any of our businesses again (and the business owned multiple eatery chains), she would be arrested for trespassing.

Customer: “I need to come by later for [large bread order]. And I need those to be kosher; it’s for a Jewish family.”

Employee: “Oh, all of our products are kosher, as it’s a kosher bakery.”

Customer: “Still, I just wanted to make doubly sure.”

Employee: *Starts writing a note* “I’ll leave a note to the bakers just so they’re aware, but everything they bake is kosher, so you should be good.”

Customer: *Looking at the note* “I’d like to speak to your manager, please.”

Since I am the manager and I am standing nearby, I introduce myself and ask how I can help.

Customer: “If you’re a kosher bakery, why do you have someone so… problematic working here?”

Me: “What do you mean?” 

Customer: *Pointing at my employee* “This man just wrote a note, and he didn’t capitalize the J in ‘Jewish family’. He’s not giving respect to the Jewish people!”

Me: “That’s a simple grammatical error; he didn’t mean anything by it.”

Customer: “Someone working in a kosher bakery should not be making those kinds of—” *finger quotes* “—grammatical errors! You need to have better standards!” 

That’s it. I am done with her. After decades of trying to meet customers like this in the middle, I now know better.

Me: “Ma’am, it was a simple error and not anything that will negatively impact our quality of service to you. Instead of making a helpful suggestion or constructive critique, you are intentionally making a big deal out of this and assuming the worst. Please leave.”

Customer: “You’re refusing me service?!”

Me: “I see simple human error, but you jumped straight to assumed bigotry. I’ve wasted too many hours of my life trying to argue with people like you — people who just want to antagonize instead of have a healthy discussion. No, I’m too old for people like you. Please leave.” 

Customer: “You’re kicking me out… because of a spelling mistake?!”

Me: “Oh, so, now it’s just a simple grammatical error?!”

I held the door open, and she stormed through it, never to be seen again.