Me: “I’ll have [item] and [item], thanks.”
Cashier: “Sure. Is that all?”
Unfortunately, I mishear her and think she asked, “Are you South African?”
Me: *Confused* “No?”
The woman, looking a bit bemused, waits patiently for the rest of my order.
Cashier: “So did you want anything else?”
Me: “Oh, no, thanks.”
Later, the friend I was with asked me about my weird behavior, and I realised that I had misheard.
I work as a glorified cashier in a store specializing in bundt cakes. We happen to sell mini ones the size of cupcakes, which come in dozens and are very popular. A customer calls me in late October with a complaint.
Me: “Hello, and thank you for calling [Franchise]. This is [My Name]; how may I help you?”
Customer: “Oh… Hi, I was just calling to place a complaint?”
Me: “Yes, of course. Mind telling me what’s wrong? Maybe we can work it out.”
Customer: “Um, my mom ordered a dozen bundtinis but there were no pumpkin. I was really disappointed.”
Me: “Did your mother specifically order the pumpkin spice?”
Customer: “I don’t know. It’s my mom. But there weren’t any and I was so disappointed.”
Me: “Well, the regular assortment only comes with [our four most popular flavors]. Pumpkin spice is seasonal, so it’s not one of them. You have to order a custom assortment to—”
Customer: “Can I just get a refund?”
Me: “I’ll have to see your receipt for that to make sure you specially ordered the pumpkin.”
Customer: “What? I don’t have that anymore! We bought those bundtinis last October!”
Me: “…”
Customer: “I’m calling corporate. Goodbye.”
She hung up, and I told my manager and coworkers. It’s one of our favorite stories to tell now.
I’m working in a cookie shop.
Customer: “Hello. I’d like two cookies, please.”
Me: “Sure thing. What kind?”
Customer: “…”
Me: “Chocolate chip, double chocolate chip, plain, macadamia.”
Customer: “Oh, no, just two cookies.”
Me: “Yes, but what kind?”
Customer: “Warmed.”
I hold up two chocolate chip cookies.
Me: “Is this okay?”
The customer just stared blankly, so I put them in the toaster. The customer seemed happy with it; she didn’t complain as far as I could see. It wasn’t like she was a foreigner who didn’t know English or something, either; she had a thick Boston accent.
This wouldn’t be much of a story if it wasn’t for who it happened to.
Anyone who works retail knows that when you say a thing so often that it becomes habitual, you tend to speed through it. Part of my spiel after serving someone is, “Have a good day!”
Of course, those words getting rather smushed together means my genius mouth comes out with, “Have a gay!”
This has happened twice.
The first time was to two little old ladies, who, thankfully, didn’t seem to notice and left.
The second time was to the local priest, who stopped and stared at me as I froze.
My boss gave me an extra break because he was laughing so hard he had to go hide out the back for a bit.
A woman in a severe business suit sweeps in to pick up a fairly large custom order early one morning.
Customer: “I’m here to pick up the order for [Company].”
Me: “Oh, yes, good morning! I have it right here.”
I open one of the boxes to show her the intricate decorations. She glances briefly at the box and blows out an exasperated sigh.
Customer: “Ugh, next time, we’ll just have you deliver them. I can’t believe I had to come all the way out here.”
Me: “Well, we aren’t actually able to offer delivery. We’re only a small company, and it’s pretty much just me running things.”
Customer: “Yeah. It’s way too far for me to come, but my client will probably—” *rolls eyes* “—want to use these, anyway. So, how does delivery work?”
Me: “I’m sorry, but we can’t deliver; I’m here alone twelve hours a day.”
Customer: *Glaring* “I’m asking how it works.”
Me: *Helplessly* “It… doesn’t?”
Customer: *Pursing her lips condescendingly* “Well, what courier service do you use?”
Me: “We… don’t? If you require shipping, we use the USPS and ship first-rate Priority. I can’t really tell you how much it would cost off the cuff, however, bec—”
Customer: “I’m not asking how much it costs.”
She huffs impatiently and rolls her eyes.
Customer: “Whatever. Just ring me out so I can drive all the way back now.”
Me: “Yes, ma’am. Your total is [total].”
Customer: “That’s not what the girl on the phone said. She said it would be [significantly lower total].”
Note that “the girl on the phone” was me, and I know precisely what I quoted her. At this point, however, she is so hostile and acerbic that I just want to get her out of the shop.
Me: “Sorry for the confusion, ma’am. That will be [lower total], then.”
Customer: *Sarcastically* “I need a receipt.”
She took the receipt and swept out of the shop again without another word.
