A Lot Of Nuggets Of Stupidity

, , | WI, USA | Right | July 8, 2017

I’m working in the grill area of a well-known fast food restaurant. It’s during the dinner rush and we get hit with two HUGE orders, one after the other. They both will take roughly five minutes to make. One of the orders also includes several pies that will take ten minutes to bake, though the staff up front offer to give him the rest of his food when it’s ready and to bring the pies to him when they come up. The other order calls for sixty nuggets.

I’m new to grill so I’m already annoyed by having to suddenly make so much food since I have only the vaguest idea of what I’m doing. Still, the food is made and sent up within a reasonable amount of time and everything’s fine.

Then one of the managers comes back in disbelief and tells me I need to put down the sixty nuggets AGAIN. I find out later that they prepared the order with the nuggets and called out the number. Somebody responds, takes the tray, and sits down. Five minutes later, he comes up and says he’s missing sandwiches and that the sixty nuggets aren’t his. A manager looks at his receipt and, surprise, he took the wrong huge order, even though the orders were nothing alike. The man then tries to keep the wrong sandwiches he didn’t pay for and only wants to return the nuggets, to the point a manager has to warn him that they won’t give him his food until he returns the ENTIRE ORDER he has taken.

Thankfully, the woman who HAD ordered the sixty nuggets is understanding that it isn’t the staff’s fault and waits patiently for her entire order to be remade. (She ends up waiting a half hour for her food, though she is refunded for the trouble.)

The kicker was that while the grill team was busy remaking the order, the man who started the mess in the first place had the nerve to ask when his pies were coming up.

When It Came To Crunch Time, They Lost

, , , , , | Friendly | July 7, 2017

I work on a market stall on a Saturday. My boss is great, a really nice bloke who I have known for years, but he won’t bend over backwards to help just anyone.

The stall is at the top of the street, and it means that cars cannot park there on a Saturday til six pm.

This man drives up in his car — quite a nice car (this is relevant). It is packing up time, but everyone still has a lot to do and there are vans and trucks all over the place. But this man WANTS to come down the street and park!

He doesn’t start well. He is very rude to a teenage boy on the opposite stall. The boy’s dad is a tough Irish man and he goes over to the man and has a quiet word. The man backs off without a murmur!

Then he starts on my boss. He wants my boss to move his van. my boss tells him that he will have to wait as he is in the middle of packing up. He has the flap down at the back of the van; it is quite obvious that it would be highly inconvenient for him to move it on demand.

This takes about five minutes. We are all watching this bloke because he is being such an idiot.

What he does next is extraordinary.

He drives his car through a small gap right next to my boss’s van. It isn’t big enough, and as I said the flap is down. The flap catches on the door of the car. It is made of tougher stuff than the car door, and there is an amazing crunching and tearing of metal as this man’s car door is totalled, but he just keeps going.

There is much clapping and laughing and some jeering, and my boss says “if you could have just waited!’. The man does not respond. He doesn’t look at anyone or say a single word.

Hands down the funniest 10 minutes I have ever had at work.

About To Be Charged With Battery

, , , , | Right | July 1, 2017

(During a friendly chat with my boss I let it slip that I like to wrench on vehicles in my spare time. Seizing at the opportunity to transform my favorite hobby into something I’ll soon hate, he appoints me the new go-to guy for anything even remotely related to mechanical subject matter. Even though we have reference books tied to the rack, I’m often paged to the automotive battery rack so I can look up the correct battery for them. Upon doing this, one of two reactions is guaranteed to unfold:

  1. The customer, who three seconds ago didn’t know the make or model of vehicle they were working on, suddenly becomes an expert on all things battery, and proceeds to tell me that the book is wrong and there’s ‘no way’ the recommended battery will be powerful enough to start their vehicle. They then scour the rack for a farm tractor or forklift battery with enough cranking amps to successfully fry the ignition on their ’00 Volkswagen Beetle.
  2. The customer gasps, loudly enough to pull merchandise off a nearby endcap, at the price of the correct battery, and then goes in search of the cheapest $26 lawn tractor battery that would make the power door locks on their Dodge crewcab diesel laugh a hearty guffaw.)


Customer: “Hi. I’m looking for a battery for my car.”

Me: “Sure! I’d be happy to get you all set. What kind of car is it?”

Customer: “It’s a little two-door.”

Me: “Okay, do you know what brand it is?”

Customer: “Taurus makes it, I think?”

Me: “All right… Taurus is a Ford; does that sound right?”

Customer: “Yeah, whatever.”

Me: *looking in book* “Do you know which engine it has?” *I list available engines*

Customer: “Jeez… I didn’t know there were so many!” *there were two, a four cylinder and a V-6* “What did most of them come with?”

Me: “I’m not sure; it could be either one. Do you have the vehicle with you so we could check?”

Customer: “Oh, no.” *waves in the air and gives me a look as if to say “How silly of a question!”* “It’s at home. It won’t start. Let me put it this way: if it was your car, which one do you think it would be?”

Me: “Um… I would still need to know which engine I had. If we get the wrong one the battery might not fit or won’t be adequate for the application.”

(At this point the customer switches tactics, from clueless to pissy.)

Customer: “Well, fine! It’s a four cylinder!”

Me: “Okay… here we are, it’s [part number]; I’ve got one right here.”

Customer: “Is that tag for $79 for THIS BATTERY?”

Me: “Yes, it’s actually one of our less expensive batteries.”

Customer: “YOU think that’s less expensive? In that case I’d like to have your income!”

Me: “…”

Customer: “Well, what about this one?” *motions to a six-volt golf cart battery that costs $59* “Why won’t this one work?”

(I end up going through the full explanation of why their car needs a twelve-volt automotive battery. Their facial expression indicates NONE of what I am saying is getting through and that I’m just a slimy salesman trying to talk him into a top of the line option.)

Customer: “Fine! What about this one here?” *motions to a motorcycle battery*

(Again I went through the process of explaining why that won’t work. Eventually I thought I gained ground getting them to believe that I was just trying to recommend what would work for his car and what won’t. They begrudgingly thanked me and I went on to help other customers. Fast forward two hours. I was working elsewhere in the store and heard a commotion up at the registers. I poked my head out of my aisle and recognized the battery customer from earlier. As I was walking up I began catching parts of the conversation, things like “Didn’t have any idea what he was doing” and “Got me the wrong battery” and “Expect to be compensated for driving all the way over from (neighboring town that is a half mile down the road).” When I reached the registers, I saw he ended up going with a boat battery, probably because it was $49.99. He was in the process of going off on our cashier about how I had intentionally screwed him over until he saw me approaching. The look on his face of being caught in a lie was priceless. He quickly dropped the attitude and asked sheepishly if we would take the battery he had bought in exchange for the correct one.)

Not Too Chicken To Confront Mom

, , , , , , | Right | June 30, 2017

(I work at a fast food chicken restaurant and it’s a very slow day. A lady with two little kids comes in.)

Lady: “Can I have a hamburger and kids meals for these two–”

Me: “Ma’am, we are a chicken—”

Lady: “—and I want two root-beers and a water.”

Me: “Ma’am, we are a chicken—”

Lady: *yelling over me* “AND I WANT SOME FRENCH FRIES!”

Me: “Ma’am, we are [Fast Food Chicken Restaurant].”

Lady: *visually angry* “NO, YOU AREN’T! YOU ARE WHAT I TELL YOU WHAT YOU ARE, AND YOU’RE [Burger Chain]!”

Little Boy #1: “Mom, this is [Fast Food Chicken Restaurant].”

Lady: “NO, IT’S NOT, [Little Boy #1]!”

Little Boy #2: “Mom, what does it the sign above the menu say?”

Lady: “[Fast Food Chicken Restaurant].”

Little Boy #1 & #2: “So we’re in the wrong place, so let’s leave.”

(Lady left with her kids. Never in my career have I seen two little kids correct their parent like that. I was speechless the rest of the day.)

The Nametag Hag

, , , | Right | June 29, 2017

(I stop at a grocery store after work and am still wearing my company name tag, from another company. I use the family restroom, not thinking anything of it. When I get out there is a woman waiting with a stroller and two small kids.)

Customer: “That is really rude to use that restroom; it’s meant for families.”

Me: “Sorry, no one was waiting at the time.”

Customer: “What’s your name?” *squints at my nametag*

Me: “Again, sorry.”

(I move to go around her.)

Customer: “I’m reporting you, right now.”

Me: “Well, I don’t work here.”

Customer: “But you’re wearing a name tag.”

Me: “Right, to a different company.”

Customer: “Please don’t insult my intelligence.”

(I go around the store and when I’m checking out that customer is at customer service arguing with them to go and find me and fire me for taking up customer’s rightful restroom. I then decide to save the customer service employee and walk to the desk.)

Me: “She is talking about me; I committed the mortal sin of using the family restroom, and as you can see I don’t work here.”

Customer: “But she’s wearing a nametag!”

Page 4/13First...23456...Last
« Previous
Next »