(For a number of years, our menu was a little backwards; our bacon cheeseburger was the #1 combo and a plain burger was the #3 combo. Some variant of this conversation happened almost daily.)
Customer: “Can I get a #1, please?”
Me: “Okay, one bacon cheeseburger. Anything else today?”
Customer: “No, no, no, the number one.”
Me: “That is the number one.”
Customer: “Well, how was I supposed to know that?”
Customer #1: *places order* “But I don’t want anything with cream in it; I’m vegan!” *wanders off*
Me: *to her friend, [Customer #2]* “We use mock cream, which is basically just vegetable oil and sugar, but the doughnuts themselves have dairy and egg in them, so your friend shouldn’t have them at all if she’s vegan.”
Customer #2: *shrugs* “What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her! I’ll take a dozen, but better leave out the cream ones, just in case.”
(I work at a popular fast food chicken restaurant. It’s about noon, and a rather deranged-looking man comes up to the register.)
Me: “Hi there. Is this going to be for here or to go?”
(He stands there and stares at me for a good twenty seconds before snapping out of his trance.)
Customer: “Oh! Sorry. This is to go. You know, I have a granddaughter who looks just like you. I make a lot of money, too. You know that place off of route 51…” *more incoherent rambling*
(He finally tells me he’s looking for a family meal, and I try my best to find the one that will fit his needs.)
Me: “We have a sixteen-piece meal; it comes with four large sides and eight biscuits. How about that?”
Customer: “Okay, and I’ll have that with no wings, please… You know, I have tons of money, right?”
Me: “Sure, and what would you like for your four sides?”
Customer: “No, I have money!”
Me: “I know. I’m asking what four sides you wanted with your meal.”
Customer: “That sixteen-piece meal up there; that’s what I wanted.”
Me: “Sir, I’m aware of that. I’m just asking what sides you want with it. Mashed potatoes? Coleslaw?”
Customer: “Yeah, I’ll have two mashed potatoes and two coleslaw.”
Me: “All right, that’ll be [total].”
Customer: “Now I have the money, all right?”
Me: “Okay.”
(He pulls out a whole wad of cash, seemingly all $1 bills. He tries to count them all and gives up.)
Customer: “Ugh, I know I have it. Let me just pull it out of what I got from that…” *more rambling*
(He eventually pulls out a fifty and gives it to me.)
Customer: “Now, I want to give you guys change for helping me out. Take what’s left and split it with each other.”
Me: “That’s very nice of you, but it isn’t necessary.”
Customer: “Oh, oh, oh, but it’s my gift to you. You should take it.”
Me: “Well, thank you, sir.”
(There ended up being a slight wait on his meal, so my manager went up and offered him a free drink while I handed it out. He talked to us for about five minutes about random things including his daughters, roads, and politics. He actually ended up inviting us to a candlelight dinner at his house before leaving.)
(My fast food restaurant has a sale on chicken nuggets right now. Ten nuggets are $1.50, but twenty nuggets are their normal price of $5. In essence, it’s cheaper to buy two ten-pieces than one twenty-piece. Enter this lady on drive-thru.)
Customer: “I want twenty chicken nuggets.”
Coworker: “Okay, ma’am. Would you like anything else?” *enters two ten-piece nuggets*
Customer: “Excuse me! I asked for a twenty-piece, not two ten-piece!”
Coworker: “Ma’am, it’s cheaper to buy two ten-piece nuggets than one twenty-piece. You’re getting the same amount for less money.”
Customer: “I want a twenty-piece!”
Coworker: “Would you rather pay $3 or $5 for 20 chicken nuggets?”
Customer: “I said I want a twenty-piece!”
Coworker: “Ma’am, we don’t even have a large enough bag to fit twenty chicken nuggets. A twenty-piece order comes in two bags of ten nuggets.”
Customer: “Are you not listening? I want a 20-piece!”
Coworker: “Okay, ma’am. I’ll switch your two ten-pieces to one twenty-piece. Will that be it for you?”
Customer: “No! You didn’t ask me what kind of sauce I wanted.”
Coworker: “What kind of sauce would you like?”
Customer: “I don’t want any sauce.”
Coworker: “Will this complete your order?”
Customer: “Yes! It’s about time!”
(The customer drives to my window where I’m collecting ]\money.)
Customer: *in a very accusing tone* “Did I get a twenty-piece nugget?”
Me: *poker face* “Yes, ma’am.”
Customer: “With no sauce?”
Me: “That’s correct. Your total will be [total].”
Customer: “Finally, someone knows what they’re doing!”
(I work in a small-town location of a very large fast food chain that is known for its signature burgers. I am working an afternoon shift with several other employees and the general manager of the location. A little while after I have clocked in, the fryer station begins beeping very loudly and displays the word “HELP” on its LED screen. After about five minutes, it starts to get a little annoying.)
Me: “Why does the fryer station keep beeping like that?”
Coworker: “Nobody really knows. We think it’s probably faulty wiring, but we aren’t really sure.”
(Suddenly, the general manager storms out of her office and starts pressing buttons on the fryer station to get it to shut up.)
General Manager: *to the fryer station* “YOU DON’T NEED HELP! We’ve talked about this!”
Related:
Inhuman Resources
