The Hour Turned Sour

, , , , , | Right | August 5, 2018

(I am working as a cashier. Since we’re in a busy tourist area, mornings are slammed, and often when people complain we just apologize and send them on their way. However, I notice something fishy on this day. A customer walks up to register to pay. He is part of a group of college kids who seem to be here for spring break.)

Me: “Hi there. How was everything this morning?”

Customer: “Uh, yeah, the food was okay but we had to wait an hour for it, and it was cold when it got to us.”

Me: “Oh, no, I’m so sorry that happened.”

(I take a look at the time-stamped ticket he handed me, which is printed when the order is put in. The time on the ticket and the current time are only forty minutes apart. If he truly had waited an hour for his food, he would still be eating it.)

Me: “Here, let me get my manager; just one moment.”

(I go to get the manager, show her the ticket, and tell her the complaint. She goes to talk to the customer.)

Manager: “Hello. What is the problem here?”

Customer: “Yes, I told the other one that we waited an hour for our food and it was cold. We’re not paying for that.” *gestures to his group*

Manager: “Well, I’m sorry, but neither of those things happened, as it still hasn’t even been an hour since the food was put in; it says it right here on your ticket. And, as I can see from the empty plates on your table, you all ate your meals just fine, so now you have to pay for it.”

Customer: “What the h***? I’m the g**d*** customer! What kind of s***ty service is this?!”

Manager: “I’m sorry, sir, but this is a family restaurant and we do not allow that language here. I’m going to have to ask all of your party to pay and leave, or else I can call the cops down here. We’ll see what they have to say about the situation.”

Customer’s Friend: “Just pay for the food, dude! It’s your fault that you went next door to go buy s*** when we were eating; don’t get us in trouble.”

(The guy reluctantly paid for his meal, as did his friends, and then they finally left. Thankfully they didn’t come back that week.)

I Am Me And You Are He And Here’s ID And We Are All Together

, , , , | Right | July 25, 2018

(I’m a teller at another branch of a bank, but today I am helping in a center that is short-staffed. As such, I don’t know most of the faces and have been asking quite a few people for their IDs. Many clients are mildly annoyed, but turn it over when asked.)

Me: “Hi! Welcome to [Bank]. What brings you in today?”

Client: “I just need to withdraw this out of my account.”

(The client hands me a withdrawal slip for $100. Since it is a small amount, I decide to just check her signature on her account, but an alert pops up telling me to confirm her ID.)

Me: “Okay, Mrs. [Client], could I just borrow your ID for a moment?”

Client: “What? Why do you need my ID? I only need a hundred. Just pull that out; you don’t need my ID.”

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry, Mrs. [Client]. I usually work for a different branch, so I’m not as familiar with you as the regular teller. I just need to borrow it for one moment, and I’ll get it right back to you.”

Client: “This is ridiculous! I have been banking here for twelve years! Everyone knows me! Why should I have to show you my ID?!”

Me: “Well, Mrs. [Client], my system does need me to confirm your identity. I do have an indication that your account was compromised recently.”

Client: “Yes, but that was just because my checkbook was stolen. This is a withdrawal slip! You don’t need my ID for this!”

Me: “Well, the information on the checks will match the information you filled in on the slip. Unfortunately, I will need your ID before I can withdraw this for you.”

Client: “Oh, this is so ridiculous!” *pulls out license and throws it on the counter* “I’m obviously me; you shouldn’t have to ask me who I am!”