I work at a coffee shop that sells donuts.

One evening, shortly after my manager leaves, a customer comes in and asks for two chocolate dips. My coworker, a young woman who has just started there, chooses one with chocolate and one with white dough. The customer turns bright red and tears open the bag, yanking the one with chocolate dough out and waving it in her face.

Customer: “What is this?! Does this look like a chocolate dip to you?!”

My coworker started tearing up. I stepped in quickly and replaced it with the right type of donut, muttering vague apologies.

My coworker had gone to the back to cry. I said something about the customer being a jerk and told her that she could stay in the back a bit longer.

The next day, when I told our manager, she was furious and declared that if that guy came back, she would give him a piece of her mind.

He did come back, but not when she was there. He was generally miserable but never yelled at anybody else. My coworker, and a few others, started a contest to see who could make him smile. Some weeks later, the contest had been won. It was the coworker he’d made cry who finally did it. It wasn’t as satisfying as kicking him out, but none of us had the self-confidence to do that, and it did make everyone feel better.

I’m working at an airport café.

Me: “We have Swiss, American, and pepper jack cheese. Which would you like?”

Customers: “Oh, just regular.”

Me: “All right, and how would you like your eggs?”

Customers: “Just regular eggs is fine.”

Me: “All right, and that comes with toast. Would you like wheat or white?”

Customer: “What’s wheat or white? Just regular toast is fine.”

I work for a popular coffee chain, and, like most food service establishments, we have a strict policy against non-service pets in the store. State laws allow us to ask if it is a service animal, but it is illegal to ask for documentation; if they say yes, we must take them at their word. 

A man is standing in line with a small dog in his arms.

Me: “Excuse me, sir, but is that a service animal?”

Customer: “No.”

Me: “I am sorry, sir, but we don’t permit animals in our store unless they are service animals.”

Customer: “But what about [treat we give for free to dogs]?”

Me: “Sir, we are happy to give you one of those for your dog, but someone needs to wait outside with the animal.”

He walks away, looking confused, and returns almost immediately, still holding the dog.

Customer: “You’re breaking the law!”

Me: “I’m sorry?”

Customer: “You’re breaking the law! You can’t ask someone if their pet is a service animal!”

Me: “Yes, I can, sir. As I said, that is our policy and it is my job to enforce it.”

Customer: *Getting more irate* “No, you are breaking the law!”

Me: “I only know what I am told, sir. I am not breaking any law.”

Customer: “Yes, you are!”

This whole time, one of our regulars is standing nearby waiting for his coffee. He is one of my favorite customers; he is a very kind, friendly man, and he also happens to be very large and fit. He finally turns exasperatedly toward the irate customer.

Regular: “No, she is not. I know the laws, and she is not breaking them. You are wrong!”

The customer held his tiny dog a little closer, muttered something, and then walked away. My regular got his coffee for free on his next visit!

Related:
Doing A Disservice To Service Animals, Part 7
Doing A Disservice To Service Animals, Part 6
Doing A Disservice To Service Animals, Part 5
Doing A Disservice To Service Animals, Part 4
Doing A Disservice To Service Animals, Part 3

I work at a popular bakery and café on the register. My coworker is male but has an androgynous face and voice.

Me: *To the customer* “Can I help you, sir?”

The customer gestures to my coworker, who is bagging bagels.

Customer: “Oh, thank you, but this young lady beat you to it.”

Hoping my coworker didn’t hear that, I lean in closer to the customer.

Me: *Whispering* “He’s a boy.”

The customer is immediately flustered, especially when my coworker hands him his bagels with the most deadpan expression I’ve ever seen.

Customer: “Thank you, sir.”

With an emphasis on “sir,” he quickly walked out of the cafe. My coworker started growing a mustache after that.

I work in a coffee shop in a zoo where I am one of the head baristas. I’ve been there for a few years so I’m the go-to when other staff need help and am left in charge if the manager is out.

Me: “Hi, what can I get for you today?”

Customer: “Yeah, hi, can I get a mocha but no coffee?”

A mocha is a hot chocolate with a single shot of coffee, no extra milk or anything.

Me: “Oh, so a hot chocolate? That’s no prob—”

Customer: “No! I wanted a mocha but no coffee.”

Me: “Sorry, but that’s what a mocha is with no coffee.”

I then explain the process of how a mocha is made.

Customer: “Just give me a mocha, no coffee.”

Me: *Pauses* “Okay, that’s £2.80, please.”

Customer: “But it says £3.30 there.”

Me: “Yes, but since you’re not having the coffee shot, I’m charging you for a hot chocolate; it saves you fifty pence.”

Customer: “Where’s your manager? I want to make a complaint! You need better training at this.”

Me: “Miss, I’ve worked here for a while now and have all my training. I’m afraid I can’t get a manager at the moment as I am in charge today.” 

Customer: “I want to be served by someone else.”

The other, less-experienced barista takes her order and explains the exact same thing I did.

Customer: “Fine, if I can’t have the manager I want the next in charge.”

I have to force myself not to show my amusement as I step back to the counter and ask her how I can help her as the colour drains from her face.

Customer: “Fine, just give me a d*** hot chocolate.”

She paid and left. And she didn’t make a complaint.

Related:
Making A Mocha-ry Of Yourself, Part 2
Making A Mocha-ry Of Yourself