My friend is telling me about what happened to her at work yesterday.

Customer: “Could I have a large [burger] value meal, and a three-nugget kids’ meal?”

Friend: “Certainly. That will be [price].”

The customer looks through his wallet and finds that he doesn’t have enough for both the meals.

Customer: “Change that to just the large [burger] and a forty-cent ice cream cone?”

My friend looks at the man’s young daughter and doesn’t want to give her just that for what is obviously going to be her only dinner.

Friend: “Okay.”

Her coworkers work on his meal, while she makes the ice cream cone. The young girl starts crying and saying that she wants hot fudge. My friend, feeling sorry for her, decides to make her a hot fudge sundae rather than the cone, without charging the man any extra.

Customer: “What do you think you’re doing? Why are you intervening in my parenting?!”

My friend gets grumpy at this, as the man obviously values himself more than his daughter, but she just ignores it. She does, however, let her manager know about it, who decides to give the girl ten mini-nuggets, free of charge.

Customer: “Stop intervening in my parenting!”

Manager: “I’m sorry, it’s a thing called human decency and making sure everyone gets fed.”

I was completely flabbergasted that a father would value his own meal over something for his daughter to eat, when he could have bought a small meal for him, and one for her, not to mention his outrage at their attempt to help feed his daughter for him.

I work in a drive thru fast food restaurant that also does barista made coffees, those being small, regular or large in size

A lady has come around to the pay window to pay for her coffee and my manager asked me to double check what size as she said ‘small medium’ at the speaker.

Me: Hi sorry was that a small cappuccino?
Customer: A small regular cappuccino thanks
Me: So were you after a small or a regular?
Customer: A small regular, you know like a small standard?
Me: Sorry but a small and a regular are 2 different sizes, were you after the smallest size *using my hands to demonstrate* or the middle size?
Customer: Oh the smallest one thank you

When our first child is eight months old, we plan a family holiday to Fiji. Our daughter is too young to have her own passport so she has to be added to mine. My husband also needs to sign that he approves for her to go on my passport. This is to check that the mother isn’t planning to take the child overseas behind the father’s back.

This is considered such a serious concern that they follow up on the husband’s permission with a phone interview. Accordingly, my husband gets a call from the passport office in Canberra.

Interviewer: “Good morning, sir. We’re just following up on a passport application for your daughter. We need your approval to process it.”

Husband: “Yes, that’s all good. I’m fine with it; it’s a family holiday”.

Interviewer: “Very good, sir. Can I just confirm you are the child’s father with a few questions? Firstly, what is the child’s middle name?”

My husband’s family doesn’t do middle names. Mine does, so we used a traditional family middle name which he was fine with because he didn’t care either way. Unfortunately, he’s forgotten it!

Husband: “Um, I can’t remember, sorry.”

Interviewer: “Oh, okay. Well, next question, what is the child’s birth date on the passport application?” 

This is eight months after the birth. We have not yet celebrated a birthday for her, so while he knows it’s early [Month], he’s not really sure of the date. So he guesses… and he gets it wrong.

Interviewer: “Oooookaay! Final question, what is the mother’s maiden name?”

By this time, my husband is extremely flustered. It has not occurred to him that they mean his daughter’s mother — we’re still not feeling old and mature enough to be parents — so he hears the question wrong, and he knows MY mother’s maiden name, so he gives that.

That’s three out of three wrong.

The interviewer starts laughing.

Interviewer: “Well, sir. If this was a fraudulent application, you would have been coached better than that. Only a real father would get every question wrong. All good here, sir. Thank you. Enjoy your holiday!”

Since then, he has been much better with all the details.

I work on the registers in a major supermarket. This customer comes in every Wednesday with her husband and is rude and just plain annoying. I have just finished packing all her groceries.

Me: “That will be $141.54.”

Customer: “I have money on my rewards card.”

Me: “Okay, I’ll run it through for you and we will check.”

It comes back with a zero balance on the card.

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, there’s no money on here.”

Customer: “I know there’s money on there! I have enough points for $50! Give me my money off or give me money from your till!”

Me: “Ma’am, I can’t do that! Have you rung the rewards company and asked to redeem the points for cash to use at the register?”

Customer: “No, of course not; that’s your job, you stupid, ugly girl!”

Me: “Well, I can’t do that. Sorry, you will have to ring them and redeem.”

Customer: “Fine, you stupid girl!”

The customer leaves and I look at the next lady in line.

Next Lady: “So, can I have my rewards money?”

Me: “…”

Next Lady: “I’m joking, love!”

(I work in the refrigerated/frozen section of a supermarket. A customer with a thick accent approaches)

Customer: Excuse me, do you know where I can find the hash brownies?

Me: Um. Sorry, could you repeat that?

Customer: The hash brownies.

Me: Oh. Um. We don’t sell those here…

Customer: No hash brownies? But you have chips and wedges…

(At this point a lightbulb goes on in my head)

Me: Oh, hash *browns*! Right this way…