Customer: “Do you have any mayonnaise packets?”
Me: “Sorry, we’re out right now.”
Customer: “YOU’RE OUT?! HOW CAN YOU BE OUT OF MAYONNAISE?! WHAT KIND OF DELI IS THIS?!”
(She throws the food she was holding at me and stomps away.)
Me: “Well, that was a bit of an overreaction.”
Coworker: “Dude. Old, white people have nothing in their lives but church, mayonnaise, and Trump. You literally just took away a third of her entire existence.”
Me: High how may I help you.
Customer: Can I have the Tuscan salami?
Me: Here (Shows customer salami)
Customer: yeah that but could you make it wider?
Me: a thick slice?
Customer(while gesturing with hands): No more girth
Me: I can get a new piece if you’d like.
Customer: no I want that one only wider
Me (slowly dying inside): I’ll see what I can do
(I deliberately hide my name tag at work because I also have a side job online where I really REALLY don’t want people knowing my real name. None of my coworkers know of this side job, either. If someone asks for my name, or if there is something weird going on where a manager or cashier might need to know I was the one that helped them, I, of course, give it to them. I’m working on salads at a far corner of the deli area while a coworker is standing right in front of the counter when this happens. Note: this customer is definitely not a regular.)
Customer: “Hey, [My Name]!”
Me: *dropping what I’m doing and putting on my best fake smile while I try to figure out how I would know this person* “Hi!”
Customer: “Can you remember what I got last time?”
Me: “You know, my memory doesn’t seem to be as good as yours. What do you need?”
Customer: “Okay, let’s see if you can remember this.” *gives decent-sized order all while grinning like a very creepy maniac* “And you know how I like it sliced.”
(I do my normal setting for people who don’t actually know what they want and hold it up.)
Me: “Like this?”
Customer: “You know me so well!” *wink*
(He wanders off while I do his order. My coworker walks up to me.)
Coworker: “Who’s that?”
Me: “I don’t know. I don’t want to know. I’m just going to sleep with a knife under my pillow tonight.”
(I am close to the end of my shift in the middle of August. A woman comes up and slams some lunch meat and a receipt on the counter.)
Customer: “This meat has gone bad; I demand a refund.”
(I glance at the receipt and see that it was purchased at nine am, well over six hours ago, and I recognize it as a log I freshly cut this morning. I also notice the seal sticker that we use to close the bags has been undisturbed.)
Me: “This package seems fine. What makes you think it’s gone bad?”
(As I speak, I pulled the package closer to me for a better look.)
Me: “Oh, it’s hot!”
Customer: “Yes! It’s been in my trunk while I was at work.”
Me: “Ma’am, I cannot refund this. It was fine when it left the store.”
Customer: “So, you don’t stand behind your product?”
(At our deli, we have to change gloves whenever we switch from handling a meat to handling a cheese and vice versa. As such, we go through fewer gloves and move the line quicker if we slice as much of one product as we can before switching, so I’ll often gently try to guide the customer into ordering based on what I handled last. This exact interaction happens several times daily.)
Me: “Hello! Thank you for your patience! Are you ordering any cheese today?”
Customer: “Half a pound of honey ham.”
(I change gloves and slice their ham.)
Me: “Anything else for you today?”
Customer: “A quarter-pound of American cheese.”
