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A Quarter-Pound For A Whole Jerk

, , , | Right | November 28, 2020

A customer asks for a quarter-pound of sliced turkey — 0.25 on the deli scales — which is easy enough. I slice 0.28 pounds.

Customer: *Angry* “That’s not a quarter-pound! Don’t you know what you’re doing?!”

I take a slice off, which weighs 0.27 pounds.

Customer: “NO!”

I keep reslicing it until it comes out to 0.26 pounds, which I guess is okay for him. He takes his turkey and storms off.

One of the cashiers approached me later and told me that this guy called me an idiot for not knowing what a quarter-pound was.

I’ll Never Look At Jerky The Same Way

, , , , , , , | Working | November 26, 2020

It’s early afternoon in our deli and we’re swapping out the morning hot food, which is now old and dried-out, for fresh new food. One of the closing shift guys is particularly put off by the appearance of the morning food.

Coworker: “This food looks like it was cooked in King Tut’s sarcophagus.”

Me: “Yeah, I know. Wait… In King Tut’s sarcophagus? Like they buried him with a hotplate in case he gets the royal munchies in the afterlife?”

Coworker: “Yes. Exactly.”

Me: *Shrugging* “That’s as good an explanation as any, I guess.”

After that, the employees in our department started referring to any item of old and dried-out food as an “ancient Egyptian special.”

The Children Are Not Always Right

, , , , , , | Right | November 16, 2020

A mother comes over to my department with four kids ranging from a seven-year-old running around to a small toddler in the shopping cart seat. This woman is clearly just done with the day as she tries to pick out her purchases with the three smaller ones yammering in the cart and the eldest actually swatting at her in some attempt at a game or to get attention.

Me: “Long day?”

Mother: “I’m selling kids; you want one?”

Me: “Nope, sorry, I only do rentals, and when I return them, they’re hyped up on more sugar than they left on.”

Mother: “Ah, you must be an aunt.”

Me: “Yes, ma’am, proudly so. Anything else today?”

Mother: “No, that’s it. I guess I’ll keep them. Have a good day.”

Me: “You, too, ma’am, may your night get better.”

It was short and silly, but we both left the conversation smiling, at least.

When The Owner Takes Only Their Payment, Not Their Crap

, , , , , | Right | November 6, 2020

I work at a VERY small deli, and I am the only employee other than the owner. I am running the register and cleaning tables while the owner is making the food. A customer enters.

Customer: “I want a ham and cheddar cheese on white, with every vegetable you got, and mustard.”

Owner: “Gladly!”

She quickly and efficiently makes the sandwich exactly as the customer requested. He pays, finds a table, and stuffs the whole sandwich down his piehole in about forty seconds.

Customer: “That was disgusting! I want a refund!”

Owner: “Door’s to your left.”

Customer: “I said I want a refund!”

Owner: “Door’s to your left.”

Customer: “I want a refund right now!

Owner: “I want to be a billionaire. Door’s to your left.”

Customer: “I know the—”

Owner: “You do not. Door’s to your left.”

The customer, realizing he wasn’t going to get his way, turned to his left, gave the door a kick on the way out, and never returned.

This story is part of our Best Of November 2020 roundup!

Read the next story in the Best Of November 2020 roundup!

Read the Best Of November 2020 roundup!

Malicious Compliance, One Gram At A Time

, , , , , | Right | October 30, 2020

I’ve worked retail for a long time and thought I had seen almost everything, but every now and then, a customer will surprise me with their outlandish demands and complaints.

I am serving at a dual counter where the deli products are, as well as the tills for checkout. It isn’t a busy period of the day, which is probably why we got away with this little game. My manager for the day is a friend from high school and he is firm but fair with a wicked sense of humour.

A regular who is known for being unbearably rude and condescending approaches the deli and makes her request for approximately 300g of cheerio frankfurts. Anyone who has worked a deli knows that it can be difficult to get exact weights, and most customers are understanding of this. Not this woman. I bag up just under the specified weight and she demands I do it again. And again. And again. On the fourth attempt, she starts screaming at me: “Useless, lazy, uneducated, f*** you, f*** this, f*** that, so on and so forth…”

I am rather shocked at how quickly she went from rude to tyrant. My manager, however, has watched the entire exchange from the nearby office and now approaches.

Manager: “Hey, couldn’t help but notice… What seems to be the issue?”

Rude Regular: “This little b**** can’t bag up f****** cheerios and I want this fixed now!

Manager: “No worries. How much would you like?”

Rude Regular: *Sneering at me* “I want 300g. No more, no less. She can’t seem to understand that simple request and I want her fired!”

My manager ignores the petulant demand to fire me and proceeds to start bagging up cheerios. As soon as he gets to just below the weight, he stops.

Manager: “I think I can see the problem. You are correct in your assumption that she cannot supply you with what you’ve requested. Only management can do this next step.”

The rude customer is now looking as though Christmas has come early, until my manager pulls out a pair of deli scissors… and proceeds to cut up a final frankfurt into small chunks. He then pops it in the bag one piece at a time while dramatically checking and rechecking the scale’s display until it hits 300g.

Then, he inputs the product code, which in most deli’s will automatically drop the weight reading between two to five grams to make up for the weight of the paper or container. Most customers don’t realise this is a thing and it’s designed that way so that customers don’t get charged for the packaging.

This drops the weight back to below 300g. The woman looks ready to explode, but my manager then holds up a single finger in a “wait a second” gesture. He then dramatically picks up the final piece of this mangled frankfurt, dropping it ceremoniously into the bag.

The final readout? 300g exactly.

She was NOT impressed, but I sure was.

Only then did she realise that if she had simply let me finish the code input, she would have had exactly 300g without having the final frank chopped into itty-bitty pieces.

Maybe next time she will be a little more courteous.