Technology Makes Everything Easier!

, , , , , | Working | June 30, 2021

I go to a fast food chain location I’m not familiar with to wait to meet somebody. There’s a small queue but I see self-ordering machines. I’ve never seen one before, so I go to have a look. All I want is a coffee.

I go through the ordering process, and when it’s time for payment information, I have the choice of credit, debit, or cash. Again, it’s only for a coffee, and I have loose change in my pocket, so I select cash.

The receipt prints out, and as I turn around, I see my order number appearing on the screen.

Then I wait… and wait… and notice that other order numbers, higher than mine, are going over. Mine doesn’t move down. I get in line and wait, and when I finally reach the cashier, I hand her my receipt.

Me: “Silly, but my order isn’t coming down. Is there a problem with the self-ordering machines?”

Cashier: “No, sir. Since you select cash, you have to pay before we make it. All you have to do is take your place in the queue and we’ll make it after you pay.”

Me: “Oh… then what’s the use of the cash option on the self-ordering terminals if we have to make the queue and then wait for our order to be made anyway?”

Cashier: *Blinks a few times* “I… I don’t know, sir. They’ve just been installed. That’s what we were told to do.”

I don’t know if that was really the rule sent by corporate or something misunderstood by the employees and manager, but I’ve never used the self-ordering machines for a cash order since.

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A Titan-ic Jerk

, , , , | Right | June 29, 2021

I work concessions.

Customer: “Hi, can I get a Titan?”

Our Titan burger is $12. It’s three patties, nacho cheese, sliced cheese, chili, Fritos, lettuce, tomato, pickle, onion, jalapeños, and finally, hot fries, all on a burger. It’s massive.

Me: “Oh, yeah, for sure. Can I get a name for the order?”

Customer: “Um, no. Why do you want my name? There’s no reason to need it… creep.”

Me: “Oh, no, I’m in the middle of making burgers and it’ll be a fifteen-minute wait before they’re ready.”

Customer: “It doesn’t take that long for a f****** burger.”

Me: “There are five orders in front of you. So your name?”

Customer: “No. I’m not giving you my name.”

Me: “Um, okay. Well, how do I get your burger to you?”

Customer:Young lady! Do you know who my husband is?!”

Me: “No, I don’t. I’m sorry?”

Customer: “My husband is an umpire here. You will show me respect!”

Me: “That’s not how this works. You’re yelling at me for no reason. Yes, your husband may be an umpire, but that does not give you the right to yell at me.”

Customer: “For this disgusting behavior of yours, I want everything free now!”

Me: “The best I can do for you is a half-off discount, making your total $6 instead of $12, since umpires and their families get half price.”

Customer: “You know what, b****?!  F*** you. I’m taking my business elsewhere!”

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Closing Off Coworker Relations

, , , , , | Working | June 29, 2021

[Coworker] and I tolerate each other. Not much more, not much less. My schedule lists that I am supposed to work 4:00 pm to 8:00 pm, and [Coworker] is supposed to work 2:00 pm to 9:00 pm (when we close). This isn’t new; in fact, it’s fairly regular business for her and me.

At around 4:30, [Coworker] goes to the boss’s office with the schedule book. I think nothing of it; the schedule for the week is done, and I figure that maybe she needs to talk about her weekend hours. Nothing is said to me, so I continue on with my day. 

Around 7:30, as we’re working on various closing procedures, [Coworker] starts telling me where stuff is. 

Coworker: “There’s still some beef out, but most of it is in the cooler.” 

Me: “Why are you telling me this?”

Coworker: “So you know.”

Me: “Know what?”

Coworker: “To put it away after I leave. Oh, that reminds me. Do you want me to count out that register before I leave?”

Me: “Uh, excuse me? I am leaving at 8:00 pm. You, [Coworker], are leaving at 9:00 pm after closing.”

Coworker: *Smugly* “Better check the schedule again.”

I go look at the schedule.

My hours now read 4:00 pm to 9:00 pm, and hers now say 2:00 pm to 8:00 pm. It’s in the boss’s handwriting, so it’s not like she doctored the schedule herself. He gave approval for the change and did not inform me before leaving for the day.

Me: “When did the schedule change?”

No answer, of course, just a continued smug smile. Then, she clocked out and left the store.

I ended up kind of freaking out and running around like a madwoman trying to get everything settled. I had closed before, sure, but always with a coworker, NEVER alone. I managed to pull it off and thankfully was able to leave through a door that would lock itself behind me when I left through it, but I was fuming through two glasses of wine that night.

The next day, I walked into the boss’s office and had a very serious talk with my boss about the situation that I was thrust into.

He told me that he had changed the schedule himself and forgot to tell me — or, as I suspect, he “forgot” — because he was in a hurry to get home. He had nothing to say about me telling him that [Coworker] had also not said anything to me about the change until almost 8:00. He just gave me some weak compliment about how he was really impressed with how well I did despite the “short notice” on my closing the store.

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The Sauce Of All Your Problems, Part 7

, , , | Right | June 29, 2021

I’m waiting to pick up my online order at a popular burrito place. There is a sign stating they brought a steak sauce back as an option.

Customer: “I’ll have a [steak sauce].”

Cashier: “What would you like?”

Customer: “[Steak sauce].”

Cashier: “Ma’am, that’s a sauce. Would you like a burrito or something else?”

Customer: “THE [STEAK SAUCE]!”

She points and slams her finger into the display sign.

Cashier: “So, you want the steak burrito with [steak sauce]? Sure thing.”

Customer: “What? I want shrimp! It comes on it, right?! It can go on the shrimp in the burrito and not just the steak?”

Cashier: “Yes, it can go on both, but you’ll have to pay extra for the shrimp.”

Customer: “But it can go on both, right?!”

Cashier: “Yes.”

I left before she got her food, but I think the cashier may have gotten her to understand her order and that [steak sauce] was indeed just a sauce and could go on anything.

Related:
Getting To The Sauce Of The Problem, Part 6
Getting To The Sauce Of The Problem, Part 5
Getting To The Sauce Of The Problem, Part 4
Getting To The Sauce Of The Problem, Part 3
Getting To The Sauce Of The Problem, Part 2

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That Isn’t Gouda, Part 2

, , , | Right | June 28, 2021

I work at a fast food chain in a small town. We are running a promotion for the gouda burger, and because of a similar appearance to our mozza burger, we try to clarify when they want to order a mozza or the otherwise very clearly marked gouda burger.

An older gentleman walks in and my coworker goes through the introductions.

Coworker: “All right, what can I get for you?”

Customer: *Pointing to screen* “I want two of the mozza burger.”

Coworker: *Punches in the order* “Okay, two mozza burgers.”

He continues to order onion rings and blueberry turnovers, and my coworker reads back the order for accuracy.

Customer: *Smiling* “Yes, that’s correct.”

He pays and I proceed to bag up the items. I call out the order EXACTLY. He walks up, takes his food, and leaves.

Ten minutes later, the phone rings.

Me: “[Store] on [Street]. How can I help you?”

Customer: *Irate* “YOU GUYS F***** UP MY ORDER!”

I don’t know what order it could be.

Me: “I- I’m sorry? Something was wrong with the order?”

Customer: “YEAH! I ORDERED MOZZA BURGERS! THESE AIN’T NO F****** MOZZA BURGERS!”

Me: “Oh! Were you the two mozzas, an order of rings, and a blueberry turnover?”

Customer: “YES! AND I DUNNO WHAT YOU GAVE ME, BUT THESE AREN’T MOZZA BURGERS!”

Me: “Sir, I guarantee you that those two burgers are, in fact, mozza burgers.”

Customer: “WHAT?! NO, NOT F****** MOZZAS! I WANTED GOUDA BURGERS!”

I’m astonished. This man specifically told my colleague he wanted mozzas, agreed that mozzas were correct, responded to mozzas, said I didn’t give him mozzas, and CONFIRMED over the phone with me that he was, in fact, the one who ordered mozzas.

Me: “Sir, the gouda burger is different from the mozza burger, and you’ve even confirmed over the phone and to my colleague that you wanted mozza—”

Customer: “WELL, I WANTED F****** GOUDA BURGERS!”

Me: “But you confirmed they were mozzas. I can’t do anything for you.”

Customer: “NO! YOU’RE GOING TO F****** FIX THIS. I WILL BE OVER IN TEN MINUTES AND YOU’RE GOING TO GIVE ME MY F****** GOUDA BURGERS!”

I try to respond, but he hangs up. He shows up and plops down this bag on the counter.

Customer: “All right, I want my goudas!”

Me: “Sir, first of all, I already told you over the phone I can’t do that for you. Second, you were swearing and I will not tolerate that—”

Customer: “NO! I WANTED MY GOUDAS AND YOU GUYS GAVE ME THE WRONG BURGERS!”

Coworker: “No! I confirmed it twice with you and he confirmed it with you three times!”

Customer: “THIS IS HORSES***—”

Me: “Sir, if you continue using that language, I’m going to just have to ask you to leave.”

Customer: “BUT YOU GUYS ARE PISSING ME OFF!”

Me: “Sir, please leave; otherwise, I will call the authorities.”

He begins walking out.

Customer: “YOU CAN TAKE YOUR MOZZAS AND SHOVE THEM UP YOUR A**! I WILL ENSURE THAT NO ONE COMES TO THIS PLACE AGAIN.”

Me: “Okay, but you still won’t get your goudas.”

Customer: “F*** YOU!”

He never came back, and business has been on the upside otherwise.

Related:
That Isn’t Gouda

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