Quit Going By Your Name

| Las Vegas, NV, USA | Working | June 30, 2014

(I work at a coffee shop inside of a grocery store, so our register belongs to the store. We had a girl quit the coffee shop, and one of the managers accidentally deleted my register number and sign-in so I wasn’t able to log into it for my shift. I phoned the front-end manager at the time to let her know.)

Me: “I think my operator number was accidentally deleted instead of [Girl Who Quit].”

Manager: “Okay, what’s your operator number?”

Me: “[Number].”

Manager: “That number doesn’t exist in the computer. Are you sure that’s your number?”

Me: “That’s the number I’ve been using since I transferred here seven months ago.”

Manager: “Well, it’s not on here. The operators listed with numbers are [Supervisor], [Co-Worker #1], [Co-Worker #1], and [Girl Who Quit]. What’s your name?”

Me: “[My Name].”

Manager: “Okay, well, I’ll get you set up with a new number and password.”

(She helps me get a new number, and then hangs up. When I sign in, the name appearing on my screen in the name of the girl who quit! So after about a half hour, the manager walked by my coffee shop to put some carts away and I stopped her.)

Me: “I signed into the register, and I’m listed as [Girl Who Quit].”

Manager: “Yeah.”

(She stares at me for a moment.)

Manager: “What’s your name?”

Me: “[My Name].”

(She stares at me, dumbfounded.)

Manager: “You told me your name was [Girl Who Quit].”

(We just sort of stared at each other for a few seconds. I was shocked because I had worked with this manager for about six months, and figured she knew what my name was!)

Exposed For What It Really Is

| CA, USA | Right | June 30, 2014

(I’m working the opening shift at a chain coffee shop. It’s six am and I’m prepping for the morning rush at the bar.)

Female Customer: *quietly and embarrassed* “Hi. So, that man sitting outside by the window over there… I think he has his penis outside of his pants.”

(I look over and it’s a regular customer who pops in throughout the day. I turn back to her.)

Me: “Him, over there?”

Female Customer: ” Yes. I don’t know if maybe a male employee can go check and see?”

(I summon my male shift lead, who is confused at the accusation.)

Me: “If it’s true, I don’t want to know that much about him. Will you take a peek so I can help this woman feel, you know, not sexually harassed?”

(He reluctantly goes outside and talks to our regular and quickly heads back inside holding back a smile.)

Shift Lead: “He’s holding his sunglasses case in his lap.”

(The case was the exact same color as his skin tone. We told him about it later and all cracked up.)

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Religious Hatred Works Both Ways

| Saint Paul, MN, USA | Right | June 29, 2014

(A customer I’ve never seen before comes in alone; he’s young and looks fairly normal. It’s slow, so it’s pretty much just me running the cash register and the bar by myself, with my manager doing paperwork in the back. There are a couple of other customers who’ve already been served.)

Customer: “Can I have two large lattes and a medium blended mocha with peppermint?”

Me: “Sure thing!”

(I ring him up and begin making his drinks. I’m almost finished when he notices that I’m wearing a small silver cross necklace.)

Customer: “You’re not a Christian, are you?”

Me: “Well, I’m non-denominational, but yes, I’m a Christian.”

Customer: “You can’t be serious. You know that’s all just a fairytale, right?”

Me: “Here you are, sir.”

Customer: “I can’t drink this. If you’re a Christian, you’ve got centuries of blood all over your hands, and I’m not touching anything you’ve touched. I want a full refund, you w****. How can you hypocrites live with yourselves?”

(Not wanting to continue the conversation since I didn’t trust myself to remain calm, I begin a return.)

Customer: “I mean, just look at Westboro Baptist Church! That’s more than enough evidence for me that you all deserve to be wiped off the map!”

(He goes on like this all the while I’m processing his return. None of the other customers in the shop say anything, although I see one or two looking at us. I finally finish his transaction and hand him his money and receipt and manage to look him in the eye)

Me: “Have a blessed day, sir.”

(He cursed violently and knocked the two lattes off the counter. One of them landed on his pants, scalding and causing him to curse again. He grabbed his money and stormed out, still yelling about how religious people are a “disgrace to humanity” and should be “exterminated.” After I cleaned up the remnants of the lattes, I went on break and drank his blended mocha.)

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The American Way Is Closed

| Portland, OR, USA | Right | June 23, 2014

(It’s store policy to have employees in the store 30 minutes before opening and 45 – 60 minutes after close to prep, clean, etc. We closed about 10 minutes ago and I am mopping the eating area. A customer bangs on the door. We’re required to interact with customers, even after close, so I go and crack the door open.)

Customer: “What the h***? I need a coffee. Let me in.”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir. We closed 10 minutes ago. All of our coffee has been dumped and the machines are going through a cleaning cycle.”

Customer: “What? What are you doing here then?”

Me: “We have to clean the store and set up for tomorrow morning after close every night.”

Customer: “Seriously? They make you stay after close?”

Me: “Well, yes. We can’t clean the equipment while serving customers.”

Customer: “That’s monstrous! That’s slave labor!! I’m writing corporate about this!”

Me: “Sir, they still pay us… it’s standard procedure.”

Customer: “It’s horrible! I’m so sorry! This isn’t the American way!”

(He leaves, then, still mumbling about the ‘atrocity’ of our situation.)

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Can Give An Inch In A Pinch

| Edmonton, AB, Canada | Right | June 16, 2014

(I’m a barista at a well known coffee chain. I only work the opening shift, which means I’m at the store at 5:30 am. This customer comes in around 6:15 am.)

Me: “Morning. What can I get for you?”

Customer: “Americano.”

Me: “Sure. Do you need room for cream?”

(I think he answers no. I make the Americano, and fill the cup to the top, leaving no room for cream.)

Me: “Here’s your Americano. Have a great day!”

Customer: “You call this room?”

Me: “Sorry! I must have misheard you. I can pour some out for you, if you’d like.”

Customer: “Yes, please. Pour out about an inch.”

(I pour out a good inch of the beverage and hand it back to the guy.)

Customer: “You call this an inch? Clearly men have been lying to you your whole life, dear.”

(He immediately walks away, while I stand there, suffering from shock.)

Manager: “Did he just say what I think he said?”

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