Unfiltered Story #89058

, , , | Unfiltered | November 1, 2017

(Every Friday night, my family and I have gone a particular restaurant in town for dinner and a movie afterwards. This time, we have to get up at 4 am the next day and it’s already 7 pm, so we decide to get takeout instead. This restaurant only has the one location in our area code, which is important. The way the restaurant identifies orders is by taking your car model and license plate over the phone so you don’t even have to get out of the car. My dad and I go to pick it up and have been waiting in the takeout spot for a few minutes when this happens.)

Waiter: *gives us confused look* “Are you here for takeout?”

Dad: “Yes.”

Waiter: *runs inside and then comes back out with the receipts* “I don’t have your car. Is this the one you gave us?”

Dad: “Yes.”

Waiter: *runs back in and comes back out* “We don’t have your order. Did you call here?”

Dad: *shows her his phone log* “Yep.”

Waiter: “What did you order?”

Dad: *gives order*

Waiter: “Okay, I remember taking that order over the phone. I even put in the computer. I’ll go look again. I must have missed it.”

(She comes back with the manager.)

Manager: “So we still can’t find your order but I got the full story from [Waiter]. Can you give your order to me again?”

(Dad recites order.)

Waiter: “Do you want me to re-enter it?”

Manager: “No, this has gone on far beyond our usual five minute goal from when a customer arrives and it’s the third time tonight this has happened. I’ll go run it through kitchen personally and then give these folks the order on the house. You go take your break.”

(The waiter leaves and the manager comes back with our food shortly after, free as he promised. When we went back the next week, we learned that waiter was no longer working takeout. We’re still not sure what happened.)

Enough To Make You Foam At The Mouth

, , , , , , , | Right | November 1, 2017

(I am working at a coffee shop. We are a popular place for people to go before they start their commute to work and, as such, we’re always slammed in the morning. This morning is no different, with a line out the door. We have three registers open, but the drinks still funnel to the one person making drinks, so wait times can be rather long. I am at a register ringing people up.)

Me: “Can I help the next customer?”

Customer: “Yes, I would like a large, non-fat, bone-dry cappuccino.”

Me: “All right, a large, non-fat, bone-dry cappuccino. Just to make sure I understand you properly, you want two shots of espresso and a cup full of non-fat foam?”

Customer: “I said, ‘bone-dry,’ didn’t I?”

Me: “Just making sure. Your total is [amount], and your drink will come up over on the counter. Can I please get a name for the cup?”

(The customer gives me her name, pays, and moves over to wait for her drink. I ring up a few more customers before my manager comes over and asks me to take over for the person at the bar, as they need a break. I move over and start making drinks. I eventually get to the bone-dry cappuccino. One thing to know about non-fat milk is it doesn’t make great foam. It takes a lot of time, patience, and skill to get 20 ounces of usable foam. I end up steaming two pitchers of milk to get enough foam for her drink. I am newer at the time and don’t have all that much skill yet. I finish the drink and hand it out.)

Me: “I have a large, bone-dry cappuccino for [Customer].”

(The customer comes over and picks up the drink.)

Customer: “What is this? It’s empty!”

Me: “It is your bone-dry cappuccino; it is not empty.”

(The customer takes off the lid and looks in.)

Customer: “This is nothing but foam! Why would I want a cup of foam? I asked for a hot chocolate! How hard is that to get right?!”

(I put on my upset customer smile.)

Me: “I’m very sorry about that. I can remake it for you.”

(I take back the drink, make a hot chocolate and hand it out a minute later.)

Me: “Here you are, one large hot chocolate. I hope you enjoy your day!”

(The customer takes a sip of the drink.)

Customer: “This has milk in it, and I don’t taste any coffee! I’m lactose intolerant; are you trying to kill me?!”

Me: “Ma’am, you ordered a non-fat cappuccino and then decided you wanted a hot chocolate. At no point did you ask for something with soy, which is our only non-dairy option. Did you want a soy latte?”

Customer: *shouting* “No! I don’t drink soy! It makes you into a f****** [homophobic slur]. All I asked for was a large black coffee, and you are too stupid and slow to figure out how to make one. I’ve been waiting 20 minutes for a black coffee! How incompetent are you?!”

(At this point the entire cafe is silently staring at this woman. I walk over, get a coffee, and put it down on the counter in a controlled manner.)

Me: *in a very measured tone* “I hope you have a wonderful day.”

(The customer looks at me and then at everyone else. She looks like she wants to say something. After a minute she finally takes the coffee and flounces out.)

Manager: “I’m going to take over for you. Why don’t you go into the walk-in for a few minutes. Just so you know, it is sound proof.”

(And I did, and it was sound proof.)

I’ll Come Back And Get Them Five Years Ago

, , , , | Working | October 31, 2017

(I’ve decided to purchase some skincare products from a well-known retailer. I ask the woman at the counter to help me pick the best products for my skin type, and she has me sit in a chair while she demonstrates what products will be best for me.)

Worker: “And this is our under-eye cream. It’s great at reducing puffiness and dark circles.”

Me: “Oh, really? Well, I was only planning on getting the cleanser.”

Worker: “Are you sure? You have really dark circles under your eyes. I mean, they’re probably the worst I’ve ever seen. Let me show you how much better you’ll look with this cream.”

Me: “Sure, go ahead.”

(She proceeds to apply the cream, and then holds up a mirror for me to see.)

Worker: “See how much better you look?”

Me: “Not really. I don’t see a difference.”

Worker: “Well, trust me; you look a lot better. And you might think that it’s not a big deal, but those dark circles are going to be a big problem once you turn twenty-five.”

Me: “Twenty-five?”

Worker: “Yeah.”

Me: “Oh. Well, I’m thirty. So, I’ll just be getting the cleanser set.”

Unfiltered Story #99185

, , , | Unfiltered | October 31, 2017

The Beer Store my Dad works at is wanting to hire a new person. A dolled-up, fancy-dressed woman comes into the store and says, “I see that you’re hiring. Does the job include lifting?”

My Dad just can’t help but think, “Ma’am, it’s a Beer Store… Of course there’ll be heavy lifting.” Of course, all’s he says to her, is, “Yes, Ma’am. That’s about all we do here.”

Her reply is, “Oh, OK, then. I guess this job isn’t for me…”

Unfiltered Story #99116

, | Unfiltered | October 31, 2017

When I was very young, I used to have chronic tonsillitis. My parents were in the Air Force, and for whatever reason, the Air Force doctors didn’t want to remove my tonsils (one told my mother “we don’t do that anymore” which was a lie). Luckily it stopped eventually, and I was ok until my early 20s. Then suddenly, at 21, I started getting it again. This happened after my third round of increasingly strong antibiotics had failed. I had a mild fever, and my tonsils were so swollen that I couldn’t swallow solids and could only manage liquids with great difficulty and pain. They were visible without a light or other instruments if my opened my mouth wide enough. Also, by then I belonged to an HMO (the one that starts with a K and is simultaneously loved and hated) and was trying different doctors, taking whoever they had available. I’d never seen this doctor before.

Nurse: [my name]?
Me: *follows her to the back, gets weighed*
Nurse: *stops me in the middle of the hallway* The doctor’s not quite finished with his last patient, wait here a moment.
Me: *waits, thinking this is very unusual, I don’t understand why they called me back if they don’t have an exam room ready yet*
Nurse: *walks away and leaves me standing in the hallway*
[A weirdly long time passes]
Doctor: *appearing out of nowhere, seemingly very busy and rushed* Are you [My Name]?
Me: *can barely talk, but nods*
Doctor: Ok what’s the problem?
Me: *still baffled that this is happening in the hallway* My tonsils are swollen, I had tonsillitis and I think it came back-
Doctor: *cuts me off, sighs like I’m being difficult* ok open your mouth
Me: *opens mouth*
Doctor: *pulls out his light and a tongue depresser, inspects my throat* Hmmm…. Yes, that looks like some pretty bad post-nasal drip. You have a cold, here’s a prescription. *Scribbles on a pad he pulled from his pocket, hands it to me, and walks away, leaving me standing in the hallway without even giving me a chance to respond*
Me: *looks down at the prescription. It’s for Sudafed* o….kay

I had to make yet another appointment with another doctor to get some actual antibiotics again. I went through that dance three more times before somebody finally looked at my history and decided I should get my tonsils removed. By the time I had my surgery, the infection was so bad that they had me on the strongest antibiotics available in pill form (the kind they hesitate to give people who don’t have, like, MRSA) and I was still a little infected when they performed the operation!

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