In the shop where I work, we have a meat stand where we slice cheeses and hams but also serve raw meat, mince it, cut it — however the customer wants. We also have a big oven where we bake frozen bread rolls and breads. It’s a big shop, but there were only three of us on a shift.

I was serving a customer in the meat section, and the oven started beeping, signalling that the bread rolls were baked. I opened it so they wouldn’t burn and got back to the customer. Before I even finished packing up his order, he asked me:

Customer: “How many workers are in this shop?”

Me: “Three. I’m here in the meat section, and two of us are at the cash register, so you should be checked out in no time.”

Customer: “Well, why isn’t anybody taking the bread rolls out the oven?”

Me: “…Because my coworkers are on the other side of the shop.”

Customer: “Why aren’t you doing it?”

Me: “I’m packing your meat order, sir, so the bread rolls have to wait.”

Customer: “Well, I want them now!”

I nodded, went to the oven, put the gloves on, and got the bread rolls out. Six trays needed to be taken care of. As I was doing so, the customer started screaming that he didn’t have all day, and why the f*** would I just stop packing up his order?

He did not get bread rolls that day.

Related:
Some People Just Want To Watch The World Burn, Part 28
Some People Just Want To Watch The World Burn, Part 27
Some People Just Want To Watch The World Burn, Part 26
Some People Just Want To Watch The World Burn, Part 25
Some People Just Want To Watch The World Burn, Part 24

A woman butts her way to the front of the line at the meat counter with two pre-packaged bone-in steaks and two filets.

Customer: “You! Meat boy! Unwrap them and cut off the bones! And make sure you get rid of every last bit of outside fat because I shouldn’t have to pay for the parts I’m not eating!”

Me: “Ma’am, those are pre-packaged and—”

Customer: *Ignoring me* “And then rewrap, reweigh, and reprice them based on new weight!”

Me: “I will not be doing that. They are sold as-is.”

Customer: “I will not be paying for things I don’t eat!”

Me: “Meat boy says no. Pay for the package or leave.”

Recently re-reading this story reminded me of a similar experience I had not too long ago.

I’ve just moved into a new neighborhood, and I am checking out the local family-owned places as a way to support the community. I am checking out a deli, looking at the menu while I am waiting in line.

The customer being served is acting loud and obnoxious as he’s started reading the big sign next to the menu. I start reading it.

Sign #1: “Rude customers will pay a 10% a**hole tax. You’re on camera, and your rudeness can be verified!”

Customer: “That’s so unprofessional! What makes you think you can be so passive-aggressive to your customers right off the bat like that?! You should be grateful we’re bringing you our custom!”

The deli clerk merely sighs at the customer and points to a second sign that is hung up right next to the first.

Sign #2: “Customers who dispute anything about the a**hole tax sign will be refused service. No exceptions.”

Clerk: “Have a nice day, sir. Next customer, please!”

Customer: “No, wait just a f****** minute! I am here to order, and you should be grateful I am doing so!”

Clerk: “Sir, you read the signs. I can no longer serve you. Please leave so I can assist the customers behind you.”

Customer: “No! I am not leaving until I speak to your manager!”

Clerk: *Shouting to the back* “[Manager], someone out here doesn’t like the signs you made!”

The manager comes out from the back, looking annoyed.

Customer: “You! You are running a very unprofessional establishment, and I insist—”

Manager: “If you want to insist, go to a Subway or a Starbucks. This is my mama’s place, and she doesn’t give a s*** about what you ‘insist’. Now go away.”

The customer just stared at this man for what felt like an eternity but was probably closer to five seconds. He was obviously processing the fact that he had absolutely zero power in a store where there was no Corporate to threaten and no manager to force into groveling. He eventually stormed out, and I decided I had found my new favorite neighborhood deli.

Related:
Signs Of Influence, Part 2
Signs Of Influence

I work in a deli.

Customer: “Can I get a pound of ham?”

When I put it on the scale, it was .02 over. Before I even had the chance to ask if a little over was all right, she flipped her s***.

Customer: “This is how the deli makes its money! By the employees going over on weight!”

It was maybe five cents more. She went on and on.

I didn’t say anything; I just took a single slice of ham out of the bag and printed up the tag of her now slightly less than a pound of ham.

I am slicing some Swiss cheese for a customer. She looks at me as I am weighing it and sticks her nose up in the air like she’s better than me.

Customer: “Make sure that you account for the holes in that cheese. I’m not paying for something I’m not getting!”

I stand mouth agape for a few seconds.

Me: “Ma’am, I think it takes care of itself.” 

Related:
What An Airhead, Part 2
What An Airhead