Customer: “I’d like [meal] with two portions of fries, please.”

Me: “And portion size?”

Customer: “Yes.”

Me: “Small, medium, or large?”

Customer: “Yes.”

Me: “Well, which is it?”

Customer: “Yes.”

(I decide she isn’t actually a customer and just someone playing a joke, so I call for the next customer.)

Customer: “EXCUSE ME! I’m ordering.”

Me: “Madam, I asked you three times and you didn’t answer me. What else am I supposed to do?”

Woman: “What did you even ask me?”

Me: “Portion size. Small, medium or large?”

Woman: “Large.”

Me: “For both?”

Woman: “Yes.”

Me: “And which drink would you like?”

Woman: “Yes.”

(I’ve now decided that she really is playing a joke, and is just trying to drag it out for as long as possible. I call on the next customer again.)

Woman: “AGAIN! WHY ARE YOU SO F****** RUDE?!”

Me: “Madam, again, I asked you a question and you didn’t answer it. I have now decided you are just doing this for entertainment and I am refusing you service.”

Woman: “HOW ELSE AM I SUPPOSED TO ANSWER IF I WANT A DRINK?! IT’S PART OF THE D*** MEAL DEAL!”

Me: “I asked you what drink would you like. Not whether you want one. Asking that would be redundant.”

Woman: *seeing a manager just off the side* “Are you hearing this? This b**** is being disrespectful and raising her voice at me. I demand a free meal immediately, or I’ll phone everyone I know and tell them you employ w****s to work for you.”

Manager: “I might have been sympathetic, but the second you start swearing and calling my staff b****es and w****s is the second you get thrown out.”

(She screamed just about every swear word you could think of before running out. The victory was bittersweet, though, as I was also written up for bad-mouthing a customer, and that manager had zero tolerance with me after. I was stuck in traffic a month later, and he told me not to bother turning up again. Then, when I got my dismissal letter through, it said the reason was failing to turn for multiple shifts. Suffice it to say, I don’t list them as a reference.)

(Around Saint Patrick’s Day, we dye our lemonade green. We have several signs posted inside and outside the building stating so. A lady comes through drive-thru and orders a lemonade with her meal.)

Customer: “Um, what is this?”

Me: “It’s your lemonade, ma’am. We have green lemonade for Saint Patrick’s day!”

Customer: “I don’t want this! Why didn’t you tell me it was dyed!”

(I think of all the signs posted outside and around the drive-thru speaker, as well as a sticker that is on the drive-thru window.)

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am. I can get some without any of the dye in it, but I’ll have to ask you to pull forward and we’ll bring it out to you.”

(We have un-dyed lemonade in the back but it will take us a minute to bring some up and pour it, and our orders and time is already stacking up.)

Customer: “No, I just make me a [Soda]. I don’t have time to wait! I’m sorry if I’m angry; I’m just really particular about what goes into my body!”

(I then gave her a [Soda] and fried food and tried to think how that could be any different from the three drops of food dye we put in a five-gallon batch of lemonade.)

This story is part of the Saint Patrick’s Day 2022 roundup!

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Read the Saint Patrick’s Day roundup!

(The fast food place where I work has a policy that unopened toys from kids’ meals can be exchanged for a kid-sized ice cream cone. I am working one morning during breakfast when two kids come up to me.)

Kid: “Can we get ice cream?”

Me: “Sure, it will be [price].”

Kid: “Um, can I just have one?”

Me: “I’m sorry, I can’t just give you ice cream.”

(The kids walk away and say something to their mother, and then she storms up.)

Mother: “I want a manager.”

Manager: “How may I help you?”

Mother: “I bought meals for my kids and they aren’t getting their free ice cream.”

Manager: “Well, if you give me the toys from the meals, we can exchange them for ice cream.”

Mother: “They didn’t get toys. I got them breakfast meals.”

Manager: “Okay, well, toys don’t come with breakfast meals. So, if you would like a kid-sized ice cream cone, it will be [price].”

Mother: “Well, can’t you just give them ice cream? I mean, they’re kids! I paid more for their breakfast meal than I would have for kids’ meals!”

Manager: “I apologize, but if you want the ice cream, you will have to pay for it.”

Mother: “I’ll be calling corporate about this! This would never happen at the place I go to at home!”

(I’ve recently started working at a fast food chain located mainly in Texas. I’ve been working for about a month and a half and I have managed to learn most of what my job entails and how to run the register. But, like everyone, I mess up orders on occasion. This story occurs after I mess up an order for a drunk girl.)

Drunk Girl: “You messed up my order.”

Me: “I’m so sorry about that.” *she gestures for me to take it* “Again, sorry, but we aren’t allowed to take them back. You can either keep it or throw it away.”

(The girl is about a foot away from a trash can. She would have to turn 90 degrees and she’d be able to throw it away.)

Drunk Girl’s Friend: *reaches for the messed up order*

Drunk Girl: “No! Can you throw this away?”

Me: *thinking the friend might want it* “You can keep it if you want.”

Drunk Girl: *angrily throws the burger on her wrapper and storms up to my manager* “Hi. He messed up my order, and I asked if he could throw it away, and he said no. If you knew anything about customer service, you’d know that was rude!”

(I have major social anxiety and this is my first rude customer; I freeze up.)

Manager: “So sorry about that.”

(She walked ten feet to go talk to my manager when she could have turned 90 degrees to throw her burger away.)

(I’m the customer that is in the wrong here. I’m heading home from work and am heading towards a burger place to get something to eat. However, without realizing it, I turn into the wrong spot and pull into the drive-thru of a well-known chicken-only place, instead, and, despite them giving me their usual greeting, it doesn’t click.)

Me: “Yes, I’d like a [Hamburger] with extra che—“

Order Taker: “I’m sorry, we don’t have hamburgers here.”

Me: “Huh? Isn’t this [Burger Place]?”

Order Taker: “No, I’m sorry this is [Chicken Place].”

(I glance at the menu and the clearly-indicated speaker box that has the name of the chicken place on it.)

Me: “Oh, s***. I’m so sorry. I guess I turned the wrong way without realizing it.”

Order Taker: “It’s okay. Would you still like to place something to order?”

Me: “Yeah, but give me a few moments, I don’t eat here that often…”

(I place my order and pull up to the window.)

Cashier: *repeating my order* “That’ll be [price].”

(I pay up and wait for the order to be made.)

Me: “Yeah, I’m so sorry about that; I didn’t even realize that I had made the wrong turn and…”

Cashier: “Don’t worry; you were actually one of the nicest wrong turn people we’ve had in a while.”

Me: “I am?”

Cashier: “Yeah, you didn’t try to curse our ears out, for starters. Instead, it sounded like you were cursing at yourself there.”

Me: *chuckling* “Yeah, and sorry, again.”

Cashier: “Don’t worry. Your food should be out in a moment or two.”

(She closes the window and I see her grabbing something from just out of my view before taking another order. Once it’s ready, I notice there’s a pair of cookies in the bag.)

Me: “Oh, I didn’t order—“

Cashier: “It’s okay; have a blessed day.”

(She closed the window and I drove off. Every so often, I still go there, and for the first two or three visits after that, that cashier gave me a cookie or a drink. Makes me wonder how many times they’ve been cursed at by wrong turn people.)