I am sweeping outside our fast food place where cars pull up to a speaker station and food is brought out to them. A lady parks in the only unlit spot and goes crazy just smashing the unlit buttons on her ordering board. She then sees me and starts screaming at me.

Customer: “Hey! Is anyone even working there?!”

It’s been a long day (I worked a double) and I am a little tired. I mean to suggest parking at a working terminal, but I don’t word it well.

Me: “Why don’t you try going somewhere else?”

Before I could explain, she left skid marks in the parking lot.

I worked at a fast food chain with “Chick” in the name that sells almost exclusively chicken-based items. I was outside taking orders, standing directly next to the menu.

A woman in her forties and her mom in her sixties or seventies pulled up.

Woman: “Can we just take a minute to look at the menu?”

Me: “Okay, just let me know when you’re ready to order or if you have any questions.”

After about two minutes, she looked at me.

Woman: “Do you guys have chicken sandwiches here?”

I chuckled, but when the woman and her mother didn’t laugh at all, I realized they were genuinely asking.

Customer: “This burger is huge! I just wanted the small burger!”

Me: “Sir, you ordered the half-pounder. That’s our biggest burger.”

He points at the menu showing a ½ pounder and a ¼ pounder.

Customer: “No, it’s your smallest! Two is smaller than four!”

Me: “Sir, in fractions, a half is more than a quarter.”

Customer: “Don’t talk down to me! I did mathology in college!”

Related:
Fractionally More Stupid, Part 3
Fractionally More Stupid, Part 2
Fractionally More Stupid

CONTENT WARNING: Harassment, Domestic Abuse

I have just quit my job at a fast-food place because they wouldn’t accommodate my one simple request to leave through an alternate exit due to my abusive ex waiting for me in their lobby every day.

Every day I came to work in an Uber to avoid walking into him, and every day he’d come in, order something, and sit for HOURS staring and glaring at me until my shift would end. He would then follow me outside the door and try to harass me while I’d get into an Uber only to then show up at my apartment to keep threatening me or to break windows.

I begged them for a solid month to just let me leave through another door to get a head start to my ride and every single time I’d get some BS answer and they’d tell me I was overreacting. I basically got sick of constantly wondering which day would be the day he’d come in there with a gun, and I told my supervisor if she wouldn’t let me leave through an alternate exit then I’d quit.

She laughed in my face.

About a week later after I called, left a nice resignation letter to the big boss who totally understood, and after dealing with unemployment… I get this phone call.

Ex-Supervisor: “Sooooo when are you coming in [My Name]? Because you’ve been gone about a week and we’re short-staffed. I know the other bosses let you do whatever you like but I’m putting my foot down, girl! You better be here in forty-five or you’re fired!”

Me: “Uh, remember the last time I worked with you?”

Ex-Supervisor: “Yeah! Over a week ago, boo! You can’t keep playing these games girl, this s*** isn’t cute! Your little boyfriend hasn’t been here either so you can calm down now.”

Me: “Yeah, no. I told you that since you couldn’t accommodate my one request I would quit. I’m even collecting unemployment already…”

Ex-Supervisor: “So… are you coming in or not? Because if you’re not I’m writing you up and I’ll make sure you never work anywhere again!”

Me: “I. Don’t. Work. For. You. I quit. I quit and I’m literally collecting unemployment as we speak. What don’t you understand?”

Ex-Supervisor: “You have thirty minutes—”

Me: “—Fine I’ll be there.”

Obviously, I didn’t go in, but I did block my ex-supervisor’s number and had the time of my life greeting random coworkers she would send to my house to try and get them to bring me in to work.

 She was nuts.

My coworkers just got a kick out of getting paid to walk forty-five minutes to my house and chill. The ex was taken care of legally eventually and I’ve since moved.

This story is part of the Readers’-Favorite-Stories Of-2023 roundup! This is the last story of this roundup, but there are plenty more for you to enjoy in our other roundups!

Read the first story!

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15 Classic Stories From The Year It All Began At Not Always Right!

At the age of fourteen, I worked weekends at a fast food restaurant. We were given one thick polo shirt with the company logo on it as part of our uniform. However, for $10 a shirt, we could purchase a lightweight T-shirt version to wear instead.

Shortly after I bought mine, of course, enough people were complaining about wearing a thick shirt in the kitchen that the shirts started to be handed out as part of the initial uniform. I tried to get my money back, but [Manager] told me I had chosen to buy it so that was that.

At nineteen, I went off to college, so I handed in my two-week notice.

Manager: *Upset* “Okay, you’re quitting?”

Me: “Yes, I am going to college out of state. I could work holidays if you need, but—”

Manager: “No, no! I wouldn’t want to get in the way of whatever you think you need to do out there. Just hand in your shirts and name tag at the end.”

I didn’t realize he said “SHIRTS”.

Me: “Okay.”

On my last day, I wore my T-shirt and brought the polo along. I folded the shirt and put it on [Manager]’s desk with the name tag on top.

Manager: “When are you bringing the other one?”

Me: “Other one?”

Manager: *Pointing* “The shirt you’re wearing. That’s [Company] property.”

Me: “No, I bought this.”

Manager: “No, those are part of the handout uniform.”

Me: “Yes, they became part of the handout, but only after I bought it. Do you remember me asking for my money back and you saying no?”

Manager: “I will not release your final paycheck until we have the entire uniform back.”

Me: “You do have it. I bought this with my own money.”

Manager: “It is part of the uniform. You return it, you get your paycheck.”

I left, not willing to argue with him. Instead, I went to our corporate contact and told them that I had paid for the shirt and [Manager] was withholding my check. I attached the receipt showing that I had ordered and paid for the shirt myself and asked for someone to speak to [Manager] on my behalf.

A week later, my check was in my mailbox with a sticky note saying, “Enjoy the free shirt.” I went by the restaurant over my first holiday break and [Manager] was no longer there.