Taking The Ham-Fisted Approach

, | Australia | Bad Behavior, Food & Drink

(I work in a supermarket deli, and whilst we’ve never had any real problem customers, we do get plenty who come across as a little dim. One of my coworkers is getting sick of it.)

Coworker: “I don’t get it. How many people can there possibly be who can’t just READ the labels?”

(At this point, a customer walks up.)

Customer: “I want that ham.”

Coworker: “Sorry, which one?”

Customer: *points* “That ham.”

Coworker: “I can’t see where you’re pointing.”

Customer: *points again* “That ham.”

Coworker: “I can’t see where you’re pointing. Which ham are you pointing to?”

Customer: *rolls eyes* “That ham.”

(My coworker indicates to the top of the case, which is metal, she starts talking very slowly.)

Coworker: “See this? This is metal. I can’t see through metal! You’re going to have to READ the label.”

Customer: *points frantically* “Right there! That ham!”

(At this point, my coworker gives up, grabs a random ham, weighs it up and hands it to the customer, who snatches it and walks away. My coworker turns to me, wide-eyed.)

Coworker: “I’ll be surprised if I don’t get a complaint for that…”

Me: *shakes head* “You’re crazy.”

(After that outburst she was in a much better mood. She never did get a complaint but she scared herself into being a little more patient after that.)

Genetically Modified Turkey

| MI, USA | Food & Drink, Funny Names, Geeks Rule

Customer: “Hi, yes, could I please have a pound of mystique turkey please?”

Me: *not quite catching what they said* “I’m sorry, did you say mesquite turkey?”

Customer: “Yes, mystique turkey!”

Me: “Actually, it’s mesquite smoked turkey, Mystique is a character in X-Men.”

Customer: “Yeah, yeah, just get me some mystique turkey, please.”

Me: “Mystique turkey coming right up! And I’ll change it blue for you, too!”

Winging For More

| FL, USA | Crazy Requests, Food & Drink

(It is late morning and I’ve just put out a fresh tray of barbecue wings in our wing bar. A tray holds 30-40 wings, or 4-5 pounds. As I’m walking back behind the counter, this happens:)

Customer: “You gonna make any more?”

(I turn around and see that the man has taken the entire tray of BBQ wings.)

Me: “Uh… I can make some more. It’ll take 15 or 20 minutes.”

Customer: “I’ll wait.”

(Feeling annoyed, I fry and sauce another tray’s worth of BBQ wings. When I put the new ones out, the customer again scoops every single one into buckets.)

Customer: “You gonna make any more?”

Me: “How many wings do you need, sir?”

Customer: “I dunno, like 200 or something.”

Me: “Uh… to make that many, it would take me at least 45 minutes, probably an hour.”

Customer: “I’ll wait.”

Me: *screaming bloody murder inside* “Uh, next time, sir, you might want to call us and place your order ahead of time, for your convenience.”

Customer: “Yeah, right. Who has time to do that?!”