Why Are You Making Your Dog Blue?

, , , | Right | January 21, 2018

(As I walk past the collar and leash aisle, a customer approaches me, holding a pink leopard-print dog harness.)

Customer: “Do you have any boy harnesses?”

Me: “Yes, ma’am. Most of the harnesses are right behind you.”

Customer: “Oh, okay. I need a boy harness.”

Me: “What color?”

Customer: “Blue. For a boy. It needs to be a small.”

Me: “Here’s a small blue one.”

Customer: “I don’t like those kinds. They’re too confusing. Too many loops.”

Me: “Here’s another small blue one.”

Customer: “That’s not the right size. It’s too big. I need one exactly like this one, but for a boy.” *holds up the pink leopard print harness*

Me: “I can adjust this blue one for you if you want.”

Customer: “No, it’s too big. What other harnesses do you have?”

Me: “How about a black small one?”

Customer: “That one is too small.”

Me: “I can adjust it to make it bigger.”

Customer: “Maybe I should just get the pink one… but he’s a boy!”

Me: “Dogs are colorblind. He won’t mind.”

Customer: “But you don’t do that to a boy!”

We Don’t Think They Actually Know What A Chicken Is

, , , , , , | Right | January 21, 2018

(I am the manager on duty at a popular pizza and wing joint. It’s an uncharacteristically slow night, and I get a phone call from a very unhappy customer.)

Me: “Thank you for holding. This is [My Name]. How can I help you?”

Customer: “Yeah, I got the wrong wings.”

Me: “I’m sorry to hear that. May I have your phone number so that I can look up the order?”

Customer: “Yeah, it’s [number].”

Me: “Okay, great! Can you tell me why the wings are unsatisfactory?”

Customer: “I ordered boneless wings with no sauce, and I got chicken nuggets!”

(She did indeed order this, but as our night has been slow, I know for a fact they were made correctly; I made them, after all.)

Me: “I see. Your ticket confirms your order, so I have just a few questions. You received chicken wings without bones?”

Customer: “Yes.”

Me: “And they had no sauce?”

Customer: “Right.”

Me: “So, you ordered boneless, no-sauce wings, and got boneless, no-sauce wings?”

Customer: “Yeah, but it has bread on it! They’re chicken nuggets!”

Me: “I’m afraid all of our boneless wings are breaded, ma’am. If you’d like, I’d be more than happy to make you some replacement wings of a different type.”

Customer: “But I don’t want nuggets!”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I just don’t have non-breaded boneless wings.”

Customer: “I can’t believe this! I asked for boneless chicken breasts, and I got chicken nuggets! What is so hard about this?”

Me: “If you’re looking for full chicken breasts, ma’am, I suggest looking in [Grocery Store]. I’m sure they can accommodate you.”

Customer: “But I don’t want nuggets!”

Pre-Order Disorder

, , , , , | Right | January 20, 2018

(It is just after the release of an AAA title. Any customers wishing to reserve a copy usually put down a five dollar deposit and need to have their receipt in order to pick it up on release day.)

Customer: *walks in arrogantly* “I want to pick up a copy of [Title].”

Me: “We would be glad to sell you a copy; however, all of the ones we currently have are for pre-orders only. I’m afraid we have none left for walk-ins.”

(The customer starts arguing, and our pre-order customers are starting to file in behind him. He remains oblivious.)

Customer: “Do you mean to tell me that all copies of that game are reserved? That’s ridiculous! I want you to sell me a copy of [Title] now, or I’ll call your head office.”

Me: *sly wink to the line up* “Sir, if you would like to purchase a copy, then you’ll have to convince one of the 20 or so people behind you to give up one of theirs.”

(The customer turns around and finds himself staring down an angry mob.)

Customer: *pregnant pause* “I’ll, uh… I’ll go and see if [Department Store] has some.”

(I spent the day bro-fisting the line. It was awesome.)

You’re Just Shopping, They’re Just Trippin’

, , , , , , , , | Right | January 20, 2018

(I work in a large retail chain in Australia. As it is currently summer here, my long work pants are really hot. I’m in the store I work in, after my shift — so, still dressed in uniform — looking for a suitable skirt to buy and wear on my shifts and not boil my legs. A lady approaches me.)

Customer: “Could you help me find [pants] in size 12?”

Me: “Of course. Let me check the tag.”

(I find the pants quite quickly and show her we have sizes 6-22 — in Australian sizes this basically means there would be a pair to fit the vast majority of people — while handing her size 12.)

Customer: “And what about the top I asked for?”

(I’m certain she said nothing about a top to me, and she refuses to “repeat” herself. I tell her that in that case, there’s nothing more I can do for her and continue my own shopping. She doesn’t say anything but follows me around for the full ten minutes it takes me to find a suitable skirt. It’s pretty creepy.)

Customer: “Carrying that handbag, you almost look like you’re shopping!” *laughs*

Me: “I am shopping.”

Customer: *laughs*

(I’m apparently hilarious without even knowing it.)

Customer: *whining* “I really need that top!”

(I directed her to speak to my manager at the fitting rooms. She demanded my help. I repeated that my shift was finished, I really was just shopping, and I was helping her out of the goodness of my heart and without being paid. She complained to my very short-tempered manager about my “conduct,” and the manager reaffirmed that I was shopping, not working. This set off the ultimate conundrum in the customer’s mind and she got more and more agitated until she was removed by security for attempting to cut people with disposable razors. It was the craziest thing I’d ever seen. My coworkers and I still lunge at each other with [packaged, completely harmless] disposable razors for a joke.)

A Syrupy Sweet Exchange

, , , , , , , | Right | January 18, 2018

(I work at a fast food restaurant that’s famous for its customizable frozen custard treats.)

Me: “Hi! What can I get for you tonight?”

Customer: “I’ll have a mini [custard] with hot fudge, hot caramel, and light cookie dough. ‘Light’ means not a lot.”

Me: *fighting back the sass-filled comment that I thought about* “All right, that’ll be [total]. And you can have a seat; I’ll bring it out to you.”

(The customer goes and sits in the dining room. In the process of making the [custard], it melts a good amount due to the hot ingredients. Normally I’d remake it, but since I can’t do anything about the fact that hot things melt cold things, I deliver it and go back behind the counter. I start doing some miscellaneous cleaning while I don’t have anything else to do.)

Customer: *comes back up to counter with [custard]* “You f***** up my order. This is unacceptable, and I can’t believe you gave this to a paying customer.”

Me: *very politely* “I’m sorry. What seems to be wrong with it?”

Customer: “It’s all melted. I can’t eat this s***.”

Me: “Would you like me to remake it?”

Customer: “Sure, just don’t f*** it up this time.”

Me: *not wanting to make it the same way so we’re back where we started* “Would you like to try it with chocolate syrup and caramel syrup instead? They aren’t hot like the others, but taste the same.”

Customer: “Sure, all I give a f*** about is you not f****** up my order again.”

Me: *remakes it and delivers to her table* “Again, I’m sorry about that.”

Customer: “Whatever.”

(I go back around the counter and I see my manager looking confused.)

Manager: “What was that?”

Me: “She ordered a [custard] with hot fudge and caramel and cussed me out when it melted.”

Manager: “Some people expect us to defy physics. Get used to it.”

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