The Estrogen Empire Strikes Back

, , | | Right | March 20, 2008

(A customer had a complaint about his food. He refused to let the woman working the register help him.)

Man: “I want to talk to a manager.”

Female employee: “Yes, sir.”

(The employee gets a shift manager to help her.)

Shift Manager: “Can I help you, sir?”

Man: “No, I want a manager!”

Shift Manager: “I am a shift manager, sir.”

Man: “I want to see the store manager!”

Shift Manager: “Uhm, okay, sir, I’ll be right back.”

(I was in the office working on the crew schedules for the next week. Shift Manager comes in and asks me to deal with the customer. She didn’t need to explain. I’d heard it all… He was very loud. I went to help deal with the situation.)

Me: “Can I help you, sir?”

Man: “I want to see a f**king God-da** manager! Where’s the @#$%ing store manager?”

Me: “I am the store manager, Sir.”

Man: “I want to speak to a male manager!”

Me: “Sir, all of my shift managers are female. As, clearly, am I.”

(Actually, every person working that day was female.)

Man: “I demand to speak to your d*** f***ing boss!”

Me: “I can get you a number so you can call my district manager, sir. Will that be okay?”

Man: “Finally! DO IT NOW!”

Me: “Yes, sir. Just a second.”

(I go into my office and grab one of the district manager’s cards.)

Me: “Here you are, sir. If you give HER a call, I’m sure SHE will be happy to help you.”

(I thought he was going to have a heart attack after that. Purple was definitely not his color.)

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Meatheaded

, | | Right | March 19, 2008

Me: “Hi, welcome to [local and independent burger joint]. What can I get for you today?”

Customer: “Hi…what’s on your combination burger?”

Me: “A beef patty, sauce, onions, pickles, cheese and a chopped bacon patty.”

Customer: “… And what’s on your mushroom burger?”

Me: “A beef patty, mushrooms and mushroom sauce.”

Customer: “…so what’s the difference?”

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Fun With Language Barriers

, | | Right | March 18, 2008

(I worked at this little burger joint in Seattle. I’m white, but I’m bilingual. Our grill workers all spoke primarily Spanish, so I would talk to customers in English and call back orders in Spanish.)

Old Man Customer: “Now, what is a pretty young thing like you doing speaking the Dirty Man’s Language?”

Me: “Excuse me, sir?”

Old Man Customer: “You should be speaking English! Its only natural, here in America!”

Me: “It’s just fastest, sir. The language communicates more efficiently in an environment like this.”

(I was not about to tell him that the grill workers were mostly South American immigrants, after hearing his first reaction.)

Old Man Customer: “Have some pride in your country! SPEAK ENGLISH when you call back my order, do you understand?”

Me, knowing full well that his order wouldn’t actually come through if I did that: “I’m sorry, sir. I’m afraid it’s procedure.”

Old Man Customer: “I want to speak with your manager! This restaurant is just UNAMERICAN!”

Manager, who had been working the register next to me: “Si, señor?”

Old Man Customer: *storms out*

 

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Behind Every Man Is An Embarassed Wife

, | | Right | March 9, 2008

(The place I work at, our dining room closes at 10pm but the drive-through stays open all night. I had just locked both the dining room doors when a man comes up and starts banging on the 1st door. We start talking through the door.)

Me: “Sorry, we’re closed.”

Customer: “You screwed up my order!”

Me: “I’m sorry. You could go through our drive-through and they’d be happy to help you.”

Customer: “I just came through! They’re the ones that messed it up.”

Me: “I’m really sorry about that, if you go through again they’ll fix it for you.”

Customer: “I don’t have my car!”

Me: “But you said you just went through?”

Customer: “Yeah, but I don’t have my car anymore.”

Me: “I can give you our store number. If you call, we’ll replace your order tomorrow.”

Customer: “Just open the door!”

Me: “I can’t sir, we’re closed.”

(The man then walks around the store to the 2nd door and starts banging there.)

Me: “Sir, the only way we can fix this is if you go through the drive-through or give us a call.”

Customer: “I don’t have a phone!”

Me: “You can save your receipt and show it to us tomorrow. We’ll replace the whole order.”

Customer: “This is bullshit!”

(He then enters the drive-through on foot, weaving through cars in line, gets between the drive-through window and a car waiting to order and starts banging on the glass.)

Manager: “I’m sorry sir, I can’t open the window unless you’re in a car.”

Customer: “I don’t have my car anymore and you messed up my order. Tell your employees to open the door.”

Manager: “I’m sorry, we can’t unlock the doors once we’re closed. That’s our policy. If you return in the morning, we’ll be glad to help.”

Customer: “Don’t f*ck with me. I’ll call the cops on you! You can’t refuse service to me!”

(Just then, a car pulls up behind him. The woman driving rolls down her window.)

Woman: “Get in the f*cking car! Its not that big a deal.”

Customer: “They won’t fix our order!”

Woman: “Get in the f*cking car! This is f*cking embarrassing!”

(The man gets in and the car pulls up to the window.)

Woman: “I’m sorry. All that happened was you forgot to give us a burrito.”

Manager: “We’ll get that for you right away.”

(As soon as window is closed, the woman starts yelling at the man again.)

 

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The Straw Man

, , | | Right | February 26, 2008

(Holding a large box of straws, I walk out towards the customers side of the registers during lunch time at a busy shopping center fast food restaurant, to refill all the straw holders.)

Me: “Excuse me, sir…”

(I walk up beside the customer, but still giving him some space despite the fact it was busy and crowded.)

Angry Customer: “To hell with that c**p. Why do you get to go first? I’ve been waiting here for TEN MINUTES!”

Me: “I’m just…”

Angry Customer: “You’re just impatient; that’s your problem. Wait in line like the rest of us.”

(A lot of other customers are staring at him. He has clearly not even realized I am in uniform.)

Me: “Sorry, sir. I work here and I need to refill these straws. A lady complained before because all the straw holders had run out.”

Angry Customer: “Well why are you doing that NOW? Couldn’t you have picked a better time to do it?! I lined up here and all I want is a lousy meal and you’re in my way…” *continues on and on*

Me: “Look, it’s our policy to not hand out straws because of hygiene reasons, so I must refill the straws so the customers can take them themselves so they can, you know, drink?”

Angry Customer: *loudly* “You’re very rude. I want to talk to your manager immediately!”

Me: *sarcastically, as he has not noticed “MANAGER” on my name badge* “Hi, I am the manager on duty. My name is [My Name]. What seems to be the problem?”

(Other customers nearby giggle/laugh.)

Angry Customer: “Well, that’s just f***ing great. What a piece of s*** place anyway. F***!”

(He stormed off after wasting about 15 minutes of his life over some straws.)

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