A customer comes to the counter and seems pretty worked up.

Customer: “I want to speak with a manager!”

My manager walks up to the counter and the customer starts complaining about some ground beef he bought.

Customer: “They were the worst hamburgers I’ve ever tasted! That s*** was completely inedible!”

Before my manager can offer a refund (what we normally do for anyone with a return or complaint) the guys slaps his half eaten package of “ground beef” on the counter.

Customer: “Fix this!”

We all (my manager, a coworker, and myself) look at the package, slowly back up to the customer and then back down to the package. This is when I make my exit to the cooler because I can’t stop laughing.

His “ground beef” was one of those tubes of frozen dog food. My manager said once the customer realized what he had bought, he just turned around and walked out without saying another word.

I work at a butcher’s. My manager is the owner’s brother. He’s a very nice man but you can tell he’s not the sharpest tool in the drawer, and he’s new to working in the meat industry (he used to work in an office but was laid off).

I notice something odd in the staff fridge.

Me: “Why is there half a liver in the fridge?”

Manager: “I heard that livers could grow back even if you chopped bits off so I thought I might try to grow some more that we could sell.”

Me: “And how’s that working out for you?”

Manager: “It’s taking longer than I thought.”

CONTENT WARNING: Animals Butchered For Meat

I bought a pig from a local meat market for a spit roast. I have never had an angrier man sell me anything. On the first call for a quote:

Butcher: “It’s [price] per pound. I can’t deal with this!”

And he hung up on me. I made a second call to reserve the pig, and the man abruptly cut me off.

Butcher: “Why didn’t you reserve it the last time you called?!”

Me: “Because you hung up on me.”

He hung up on me again. Now, I was just working with this guy to have another story at the pig roast.

I called back on the day of delivery to confirm when I was going to pick up the pig. This went fine. He even sounded pleasant. Then, I got to the market. The dude had a sign on the door that said, “I fought in the war, and that gives me the right to be this ornery.” I don’t know which war, but okay.

I walked in, and a tiny man who had obviously just butchered an animal yelled:

Butcher: “Who the h*** are you?!”

I let him know and asked for my pig. He walked into the back room, came back with a trash bag filled with a carcass, and literally chucked it at me. Having a fifty-pound dead pig thrown at you is not a normal experience.

I had my two-year-old daughter with me, and a sweet little old lady came out and offered my daughter a Tootsie Pop. We don’t often give my daughter candy except on special occasions. I was about to protest when the old man yelled:

Butcher: “You let my wife give your daughter a sucker!”

I paid, and we walked outside. The butcher followed me. The man looked at my jeep — as I still had the pig slung over my shoulder — sneered, “Don’t go anywhere,” went inside, and brought out a dollar in quarters. He handed them to me.

Butcher: “Go next door and air up your tires. I’ll be watching.”

I drove next door and aired up my tires — which were low, but not outrageously low — all the while being leered at by a butcher covered in blood.

Customer: “Is chicken meat?”

Me: “Yeeees? What did you think it was?”

Customer: “Well, my mom lets me eat it during Lent, so I didn’t think it was meat.”

Customer: “What is your ground beef made of?”

Me: “We only use fresh-cut chuck and some of our own beef scrap—”

Customer: “No, what kind of animal is it?”

Me: “Our ground beef?“

Customer: “Yes.”

Me: “Cow, ma’am.”

Customer: “Can I get ground beef but from a pig?”

Me: “Um… No, ma’am. That would be pork.”

Customer: “Oh… How disappointing. Will [Competitor] have it?”

Me: “If they do, I don’t want to know what’s going on at their supplier’s farms!”