Could Have Been A Much Leaner Transaction

, , , | Right | May 22, 2018

(I work at a full-service meat market. Instead of the customers picking out pre-packaged meat like at a supermarket, they can select the particular cuts and slices of the product. I am helping a customer pick out exactly which slices of bacon she wants before wrapping it up for her when this exchange occurs.)

Customer: “I want the fattiest bacon you can find.”

(I am a little taken aback, as this is an odd request. Most customers want the leanest bacon possible. But, I find the fattiest bacon I could, and hold it up to show her.)

Me: “How’s this?”

Customer: “Hmm. Do you have anything leaner than that?”

(Speechless, I hold up some bacon that is right next to the first bunch of slices I grabbed and looks virtually the same.)

Customer: “Oh, that’s better. I’ll take that.”

Me: *exasperated*

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Has Zero Zero Confidence In The Customers

, , , , , | Right | April 25, 2018

(I work at a butcher’s shop. When there’s a line-up, customers take numbered tickets and wait their turn. Each ticket has a two-digit number in bold print, from zero-zero to ninety-nine. There is also a faint number to the left of the two-digit number, for those extremely rare occasions when we have more than 100 people waiting. Normally we call the two-digit number, and our big number display only has room for two digits. We are running a very popular special, and we have quite a few people in who are not regular customers. There are currently about 20 people waiting.)

Coworker #1: *on PA* “Ninety-eight!”

(A customer responds.)

Coworker #2: *on PA* “Ninety-nine!”

(A customer responds.)

Me: *on PA* “Zero zero!”

(Nothing.)

Me: *on PA* “Zero zero?”

(Still nothing. Sometimes people get tired of waiting and leave, or sometimes someone has taken more than one ticket. I move on to the next number. A few minutes later, I’m in the middle of serving [Customer #03] when a woman shoves her way in front of him and waves a ticket in my face.)

Customer #00: “What number is this?!”

Me: “That’s number zero zero. I called it about five minutes ago, but I didn’t hear you respond. I’m sorry, but I’ll make sure you’re served next.”

Customer #00: “That’s ridiculous! It says 600, not zero zero!”

Me: “Oh, I see. We only call the last two digits.”

Customer #00: “What?! How was I supposed to know that?! This is terrible service! I’ve been waiting twenty minutes! Why would you do that?!”

Me: “Ma’am, the next available person will serve you.”

Customer #00: “NO! I’m leaving! I’m in customer service, and this is terrible! I can’t believe you did this to me! There’s no way I could possibly have known that you weren’t calling the whole number!”

(At this point, the manager shows up. She continues ranting at him for several minutes, while he tries to help her. Eventually she calms down enough to let him serve her. She was never really going to leave without getting her veal; it’s only this cheap once a year. After she leaves, I look at my manager.)

Me: “Did she really think there were 599 people ahead of her?”

Manager: *laughs*

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Sausage Fe(a)st

, , , , , | Right | April 9, 2018

(I work in a butcher’s shop.)

Customer: “Do you have… It’s like a dog. But not a dog. It’s chicken!”

Coworker: “…?”

Customer: “It’s long!”

Coworker: *pauses to think* “Chicken sausage?”

Customer: “Yes!”

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Got Beef With Pigs

, , , | Right | March 4, 2018

Me: “Hello there! How can I help you?”

Customer: “I was wondering if I could get about 1.5 kilos of bacon.”

Me: “Sure, which type?”

Customer: “The cheapest, please.”

Me: “Sure thing.”

(My friend starts filling the bag with bacon.)

Customer: “Umm, is that bacon from pigs?”

Me: “Yes, of course. All bac—”

Customer: “Oh, never mind, then. Pigs disgust me.” *leaves store*

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Getting Into Some Meaty Discussions

, , , , | Working | November 25, 2017

(I work at a butcher shop. The two main butchers, also the manager and assistant manager, are two men of about 50 years old. One is short and rotund, and is extremely tough looking, but his personality is exactly the opposite. The other guy is humongous, nearly seven feet tall and built like a brick house, mainly because he hauls huge slabs of meat all day. He is a bit simple minded, though, and not the sharpest knife in the drawer. He is also the sweetest person I know. The main form of communication they use, however, is shouting. They’re not angry or anything, they just don’t have inside voices. It’s always funny when we have new customers or new coworkers, because they always jump when they first hear the two shout.)

Customer: “And I’d like a couple of steaks as well—”

Butcher #1: *shouts loudly while chopping up meat* “I TOLD YOU IT WOULD BE LIKE THAT!” *whacks cleaver loudly onto the block* “I TOLD YOU LAST WEEK! I TOLD YOU WHEN YOU LEFT!” *whacks again* “I TOLD YOU MULTIPLE TIMES!” *vigorously whacks a final time* “DIDN’T I TELL YOU SO?”

(At this point he walks over to the other butcher, weaving his cleaver around. The regulars are used to this, but the new customers are easily spotted due to their white and shocked faces.)

Customer: “Uh…”

Butcher #2: *shouting even harder* “I KNOW YOU TOLD ME THAT, BUT I DIDN’T EXPECT IT TO BE SO BAD! IT WAS HORRIBLE!”

(He grabs a knife as well, and starts waving it around while he’s looking for his whetstone. The waving around is just his way of emphasizing his point. By now, some customers are genuinely scared.)

Customer: “Are… are they all right? What’s going on?”

Me: “Huh? Oh, it’s nothing; they’re always like that. It’s no big deal.”

Butcher #1: “I TOLD YOU THE BEACH WOULD BE BUSY! IT WAS THE FIRST DAY OF SUMMER!”

Me: “Apparently they’re discussing the beach today. Anything else, sir?”

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