Unfiltered Story #172064

, , , | Unfiltered | October 17, 2019

I was a delivery driver for a sandwich restaurant chain. On my first day on the job I make a delivery to a hotel a few blocks down the road. I get to the door, a woman answers the door and gives me a twenty and I give her the food as well as her change. This is the interaction that followed:
Customer: Where’s my fifty cents?
Me: I’m sorry but they only give me bills for change, no coins (I understand this can be annoying to some people and when I did have coins I would give people their full change).
The customer then stares at me and closes the door. Surprisingly enough, I didn’t get a tip.
A few minutes after I get to the store the phone rings and I answer it. It’s the woman from the hotel and she’s angry and wants to speak to my manager.
This made me pretty nervous because (as I said) I was new to the job and didn’t want to mess things up on one of my first deliveries. I start to freak out a bit and imagine all the The manager gets off the phone and I ask him what the customer was mad about…
Manager: Don’t worry you didn’t do anything wrong, she was mad about something else.
Me: What was she made about?
Manager: She said the pickle we gave her was too small.
Me: Really? That’s a dumb thing to complain about, how could we control that?
Manager: Yeah, when she ordered she said she wanted the biggest pickle we had so I gave her the smallest one I could find.
To this day I’m not sure whether what my manager did was funny or if he was being a jerk. Maybe it’s a bit of both.

This Will Completely Throw You

, , , , | Right | October 8, 2019

(I’m on a delivery, after handing over the food and waiting for her to hand back the credit card slip.)

Customer: *holding out a $10 bill* “Can you change this into quarters for me? I need money for the laundry.”

Me: “Uh… I’m sorry. I don’t carry coins on me.” *definitely not forty quarters!*

Customer: *looking completely shocked* “Oh. Okay, then. I guess I’ll have to get them somewhere else, then. Come on in.”

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry. For safety reasons I’m not allowed to enter the homes of customers.”

(The look on her face is such complete horror and appall I realize she must have misheard me say something fantastically offensive.)

Customer: “EXCUSE ME?”

Me: “I’m sorry, but our company rules do not allow us to enter people’s homes.”

Customer: “I have never had anyone have a problem coming into my home before!”

Me: “I’m sorry. I just have to follow rules or I could get fired.”

Customer: *thrusts my receipt back at me* “Funny how your ‘rules’ don’t stop you from taking tips.”

(By the time I get back to the store she has already called to complain two times — first, about how horribly rude I was and how I wouldn’t come in. The manager she spoke to supported my actions and explained that this was indeed our policy. Then, she called back to complain that our pizza looked like crap. I am lucky enough to catch the third call.)

Customer: “You gave me a frozen pizza! There is still ice in the middle. Come pick this up!”

Me: “I’m very sorry about the pizza, ma’am. We will remake a hot, fresh one for you right now.”

Customer: “Oh, h*** no. I owned a restaurant. I know what you do to people’s food when they complain.”

Me: “I’m sorry you were forced to work in such unprofessional conditions, but I can assure you that no such things will happen here. Let me make you a pizza that is hot.”

Customer: “No. You will just spit in it; I’m not stupid. Just come here and give me my money back.”

Me: “Since you paid with a card, I can refund it from here and the money will go straight back into your account.”

Customer: “You’d still better come out here and pick up this pizza, then.”

Me: “If you don’t like it, you can just throw it away; we don’t need it back.”

Customer: “H*** no. You come and pick up this crap you tried to give me; I’m not throwing away your garbage for you.”

(Yes, I went back to retrieve the pizza and yes, it was thrown at me.)

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Deliver Me From This Delivery Man!

, , | Working | September 30, 2019

(My phone rings.)

Delivery Guy: “Hi. I can’t find your flat.”

Me: “It’s the red metal door. It’s the only one on the street. I’ll come down and meet you halfway.”

Delivery Guy: “But how do I get in?”

Me: “There’s a code in my delivery notes — [code] — along with a description of the door.”


Me: “Hello?”

Delivery Guy: “Hi. When are you coming down? I don’t think I can get in. The door is locked.”

Me: “Okay. I guess since I was meeting you halfway, anyway…”

(When I got down, I opened my red door and saw the delivery guy stood on the other side of the street trying to get through a wooden fence that wasn’t red, nor had any indication that it could be opened. The gate wasn’t even on my street. I had to take him by the hand to my door. He was still confused and wouldn’t give me my parcel, even after he rung my phone again and had a conversation with me ON THE PHONE while I stood right in front of him. He left and my parcel was delivered the next day by a guy who was much more together.)

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The Ninja Turtles Need Their Pizza

, , , , | Working | September 30, 2019

(I’m at home, waiting for pizza delivery. I live on the second floor. The apartments in my building are all above ground level with dark wooden doors with knockers. Downstairs is a basement for each apartment, with white doors with large numbers down a dark and dingy hallway. Right around the time the pizza should arrive, I hear someone enter the building and go downstairs, and then a loud pounding. There’s a pause and then more pounding. I look outside and see a car with the pizza place’s logo. Figuring this delivery person must be new and got confused, I go downstairs and find her in the basement.)

Me: “Hi! I think that’s my pizza. Are you looking for apartment three?”

Delivery: “Yes. This is number three.” *points at basement door*

Me: “Yeah, that’s the basement for number three. The apartment is actually upstairs.”

Delivery: “But this is number three.” *knocks again*

Me: “It’s the basement for number three. My apartment is upstairs. The receipt says it’s for [My Name], right? Pepperoni and green pepper?”

Delivery: “Yes, but this is number three.” *finally starts to walk towards me*

Me: “Right, it is, but it’s the basement. The apartments are upstairs.” *quickly grabs and signs tip and receipt* “Thank you!”

Delivery: *as she is walking away* “But that was number three…”

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Two Egg Rolls, Some Chow Mein, And A Cheating Husband

, , , | Right Romantic | September 25, 2019

(I work at a food delivery company. I receive this call.)

Customer: “Hello, I would like to place an order. My number is [number].”

Me: “Right, that will be at [address]; is that correct?”

(There is a slight pause at this point.)

Customer: “Please repeat that.”

Me: “The address is [address].”

Customer: “Under which name?”

Me: “The name listed is [Other Customer] and the last order was on [date]. Is there a problem?”

Customer: “That’s the address of my friend.”

Me: “Oh, I understand. We can change that; where do you reside?”

Customer: “No, you don’t understand.”

Me: “Sorry?”

Customer: “I’m phoning from my husband’s phone. There’s not supposed to be a listed address other than ours.”

Me: “I… I don’t know what to say.”

(I’m feeling awkward and I can hear the customer reaching the point of tears.)

Customer: “He’s cheating on me. I knew it!”

Me: “…”

Customer: “It’s your fault! You took it to them; you should’ve let them starve!”

(She hung up and I was left confused and feeling responsible for some reason.)

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