A Sting To The Flavor

| WI, USA | Working | October 18, 2016

(I’m in the drive-thru with my partner.)

Partner: “What’s on your bacon cheeseburger?”

Worker: “Bacon, mustard,” *then, a word I swear sounds like ‘beehives’* “ketchup, cheese, and pickles.”

Partner: *to me* “Beehives…? What is that supposed to mean?”

Me: “I have no idea.”

Partner: “O… kay. Can I have that without mustard, or… beehives?”

Worker: “Sure!” *he gets distracted for a moment* “Wait, what was that, no mustard?”

(Neither of us can bring ourselves to say “beehives” again.)

Me: “Yeah, no mustard.”

(We got the receipt, and it only said “no mustard” which meant there should have been “beehives” on the burger. When we got the burger, I opened it up to find bacon, cheese, pickles, and ketchup. I still don’t know what “beehives” meant.)

A Different Kind Of Bean-Counter

, | USA | Right | October 16, 2016

(I work at a fast food restaurant chain that was involved in a scandal involving their pinto beans back in 2011, when they revealed they weren’t vegan. Since 2013, though, they’ve been completely vegan. So, that’s three years that our beans have been vegan. The pinto beans are in front of the black beans (which have always been vegan), so while we try our best to avoid it, sometimes a few beans or the juice from the pinto beans will fall into the black beans. Nine times out of  ten, no one, even the vegans who ask us to change our gloves to serve them, care. But this one customer…)

Girl: “Do you have fresh black beans? I can’t have the ones behind the pinto beans.”

Me: “Uh, sure, I think they just put some in the back.” *I glance back, and there are beans, but they’re nowhere near needing to be changed* “Do you have an allergy?”

Girl: *pause* “Yeah.”

Me: *gets her fresh beans, passes her order down the line, goes about my day without thinking about it, though she does give me the stink eye*

(A few weeks pass without any incident, until she comes back and does the same thing, asking for fresh beans. This time, we don’t have any readily available, so we have to hold up the line waiting for the grill to make her fresh beans. She takes this opportunity to give me “suggestions” on something I have no control over.)

Girl: “You really should keep the black beans behind the pinto beans so people who can’t have pinto beans can still have the black beans.”

Me: “Um, well, we’ve never had anyone else say they were allergic to the pinto beans, so I suppose there’s an equal likelihood that this could happen the other way around for someone allergic to the black beans…”

(I serve her new beans as I try to piece together her logic for saying this. We get people with common allergies like gluten all the time, but never someone allergic to pinto beans.)

Girl: “Well, I’m not allergic, but I’m vegan, so I can’t have the pinto beans.”

Me: *pause* “Our pinto beans are completely vegan.”

Girl: “No, I know they aren’t. I know you guys use meat in your pinto beans.”

(By this point, I’m totally taken aback by this girl. Not only did she lie about having an allergy, which is something our restaurant takes extremely seriously, she’s now claiming we’re lying about what’s in our beans, or we just don’t know. She continues down the line, and gets to cash, asking for a manager. She gives him the same spiel she gave me about putting our pinto beans behind our black beans.)

Manager: “That’s set by corporate. There’s really nothing we can do about that, but our pinto beans are vegan.”

(The girl continues to insist that they aren’t, so I chime in again.)

Me: “We can show you the recipe cards if you want, so you can see exactly what’s in them.”

Girl: “Fine.”

(My manager goes off to get the recipe cards, which takes a while, and the girl goes to sit and eat her meal. He comes back, and I point out where she’s sitting. I watch the exchange, and she brushes him off in less than a minute.)

Me: “What happened?”

Manager: “She insisted she didn’t want to see them.”

Me: “What? So not only does she not believe us when we say they’re vegan, she’s going to go on insisting they have meat and keep demanding fresh beans?”

(My manager shrugged, I rolled my eyes, continuing to be baffled by the contradictory stupidity of humanity, and continued to serve customers. She stayed away for more time than I’d seen her away before, but when she came back, she ordered black beans with no noticeable commotion. Maybe she just didn’t want to be proved wrong.)

Fire Doesn’t Work

| Fort Worth, TX, USA | Right | October 13, 2016

(It is the 4th of July and we close at 10 pm. A regular couple has been sitting in the lobby eating for 30 minutes after close. All the employees have been listening to the fireworks explode right over our heads, as the show is just down the block.)

Customers: *gets up to leave, sees a firework* “Oh, is that what those sounds are?”

Me: “…”

The Sounds Of A Hire Power

, | Albuquerque, NM, USA | Working | October 12, 2016

(I am sitting at a table, eating a burger, when…)

Kitchen: *CRASH*

Kitchen: *BANG*

Kitchen: *Wilhelm Scream*

Kitchen: *tinkle tinkle*

Manager: *over the intercom* “Attention diners: if you know anyone in need of a job, we are now hiring.”

Entree-Level Knowledge

| USA | Right | October 11, 2016

(I am working the drive-thru speaker. After the customer gives her order, consisting of several sandwiches without combos, I repeat it to her.)

Me: “So that was one [Item #1], entree only, one [Item #2], entree only, and—”

Customer: “No, no, no! I ordered the sandwiches! I don’t know what an entree is, but I’m not paying for that! Ring me up right!”

Me: “Yes, ma’am, I—”

Customer: “Why are you people always getting my order wrong? I just want the sandwiches!”

(She continues to rant, but when she finally takes a breath, I cut in.)

Me: “Okay, ma’am, please pull forward to the window.”

(When she pulls up, she starts yelling at my coworker as soon as she gets to the window.)

Customer: “I don’t know what those entree things you rang me up for are! You’d better make sure my order is right and not charge me for any entrees! I just want [Items], with no combo meals!”

Coworker: “Okay, ma’am, we’ve got that right here. Your total is [amount].”

(None of us felt like dealing with the screaming and line delay that would have come if we’d tried to educate her.)

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