Not Keeping It Five Alive

, , , | | Right | July 26, 2019

(It’s the middle of lunch hour and I’m working the food court where there are only two cashiers. The lines are long and it’s incredibly busy. [Customer #1] is next in line and [Customer #2] is behind her.)

Me: “Hi. How can I help you today?”

Customer #1: “I want a stunner with coffee for the drink.”

Me: “Which stunner would you like? We have quite a few.”

Customer #1: “I just want a $4.95 stunner with coffee.”

Me: “We have three $4.95 stunners: a cheeseburger, chicken wrap, and five nuggets.”

Customer #1: “I’ll have an—“ *looks at the menu board and starts humming and thinking*

(She keeps doing this for another five minutes. As I’m waiting, I look around, and [Customer #2] tries to order but he can’t until I’ve put this lady’s order through.)

Customer #1: “I’ll have a chicken wrap stunner with coffee for the drink.”

Me: “Okay, that’s $5.45.”

Customer #1: “Why?”

Me: “Coffee adds 50c to the price.”

Customer #1: “I only have $5!”

Me: “I’m sorry. Do you still want to order?”

Customer #1: “I’ll just have a chicken wrap and small coffee.”

Me: “That’s $5.65.”

Customer #1: “I only have $5!”

Me: “I am sorry. Would you still like to order?”

([Customer #1] is silent for about another minute.)

Customer #1: “I’ll just have a small coffee, then.”

Me: “That’s $3.35.”

(I put the order through and give her the change. As I give her the coffee, the next customer steps up. In total, this transaction has taken about seven to ten minutes.)

Customer #2: “Hi. I’m going to stand here for ten minutes and waste everyone’s time because I can’t be bothered deciding what I want before I order and can’t be bothered bringing the right money, either.”

([Customer #1] snatched her coffee and stormed off furiously.)

Coupon Sense

, , , , , | | Right | July 26, 2019

(I am a customer in a drive-thru. I got a coupon in the mail. I place my order, stating at the beginning that I have a coupon, just as a courtesy. I pull forward to the window and hear this exchange.)

Cashier: “Welcome to [Fast Food Place]. Would you like to try our new combo today?”

(The cashier greets me, takes my card and coupon, and rings me out, still with the window open.)

Cashier: “Okay, so that’s [item]. Do you want that medium or large? And would you like any dessert items with that today? Your total is [total].”

(At this point, I can hear screaming over the cashier’s headset AND from the car behind me in line over ten feet away.)

Cashier: “Ma’am, you didn’t tell me that you had a coupon. Ma’am, the price on the coupon is only for a regular-sized meal, not the large. Ma’am…”

(I can still hear the woman screaming at the poor cashier. She looks extremely exasperated.)

Cashier: “Ma’am, I’m going to have to void out your whole order and start over. We have an older system and can’t just credit the coupon. Additionally, you’re still going to have to pay for the up-sizing. Please pull forward to the window.”

Me: “And this is why I always tell y’all I have a coupon before I order.” 

Cashier: “We appreciate that. You’d think it would be common sense, right?”

Me: “You’d think so, but no. I’ve worked retail for two-and-a-half years; there is no such thing as common sense with customers. I hope your day gets better!”

Teach A Man To Fish (For Soda)

, , , , | | Friendly | July 25, 2019

(I am waiting to use the self-serve pop machine at a fast food burger place. The man just ahead of me is trying, unsuccessfully, to fill up his cup. Each beverage dispenser has, like most drink machines, a big logo of each drink type — pop, root beer, lemonade — with a “PUSH” button underneath each to run the dispenser. Note: the man is an adult, clearly local, and has a seven-ish-year-old child with him.)

Man: “Stupid thing.” *pushes on the logo, not the button* “Come on…” *tries to push the logo of a different dispenser*

Man: “How do you…”

(He rams the cup under the dispenser, attempting to use a cup-push-bar thingy that this machine clearly doesn’t have.)

Man: “This stupid thing…”

(He confusedly begins pushing every part of the machine except the clearly-labelled, LED back-lit, and bright white “PUSH” buttons.)

Man: “Does it even…” 

(He sits his cup under his desired beverage and takes a step back, looking at it. He then notices me standing there.)

Man: “Oh, you go ahead first. I’m still not sure what I want.”

(I step up, making sure not to block his view as I use the machine.)

Man: *clearly watching me as he speaks to his kid* “You wanted [Pop Brand], right? Okay, I was just double-checking first.”

(After I finished filling my cup and began to walk away, I heard the machine pouring away.)

When Turning Entitlement Up To Eleven Isn’t Enough

, , , , | | Right | July 25, 2019

(Today is my first shift at a fast food restaurant. I have processed a woman’s order and she has sat down to eat her meal. She takes one bit out of her fries and comes to the counter.)

Customer: “These fries are terrible. I need fresh and crisp.”

Me: “These are literally the first batch of fries we have cooked today. I can assure you that they are fresh and crisp.”

(She’s silent for a few seconds, like she thinks I’m talking in a different language.)

Customer: “FRESH and CRISP! Can you handle that?”

(Before I can speak, the manager comes over and tells me to take her fries to the deputy manager, and quietly tells me to ask for a “twelve.” I go to the back of the kitchen and speak to the deputy. He takes the fries, puts them on the counter, and has a quick conversation with me about my previous job. He shakes the fries and hands them back to me. Confused, I ask what he’s doing and he assures me that I can take them back to the front. I hand the fries back to the woman. She takes one and chews it, looking very satisfied.)

Customer: “See. That wasn’t hard, was it?”

(She returned to her seat, ate the rest of her meal, and left. I was left dumbfounded until the manager filled me in on what had happened. Apparently, we are close to an affluent area, and a lot of the customers are extremely entitled. Basically, they want you to worship the ground they walk on. I didn’t give her the respect she expected, so she decided to complain. The restaurant calls those customers “twelve.” They’re so far up their own a**es that they don’t realise they’re getting back exactly what they’ve complained about. I have only been working for a week, and the amount of twelves I’ve seen is astounding, and I have yet to encounter one that realises what is happening.)

Working At Your Panic Station

, , , , , , | | Working | July 24, 2019

(I have PTSD and, while I’ve learned to cope with it fairly well, I can still have an episode now and then. Thankfully, I’m pretty good at telling when it’s coming. My managers know about this and are more than happy to let me take a quick break when I feel a panic attack coming on — all but one. We’ll call her “Bratty,” thanks to her attitude when she thinks people are faking it, which is often.)

Me: *talking to a customer when I feel an attack coming on* “Hey, [Coworker], can you cover me while I take a few to gather myself? I’m feeling panicky and I want to stop it before I’m in a full-blown panic attack.”

Bratty: “She’s busy. You can wait.”

(I’m in the back window so I can’t see up front. I have to take her word for it.)

Me: “Just sometime soon. I don’t want to go home because I couldn’t calm down in time.”

(Time slowly ticks by as I feel myself falling into a panic attack more and more. I try breathing, but it isn’t helping. I continue to ask for help, but Bratty denies me. Finally, I burst into panicked sobs and shut down.)

Me: *barely through stutters and sobs* “I can’t… Someone…”

(I rush to the back and immediately collapse to my knees. After that, it gets kind of hazy but my coworker tells me what happened.)

Bratty: “What is [My Name] doing?! She needs to get her lazy a** back to work!”

Customer: *pulls up and sees Bratty yelling* “Excuse me! That poor girl back there is having a f****** panic attack and you say she’s lazy?! Mental health is important! Go back there and help her!”

(My coworker covered my spot while my manager came back to get me. During this time, the general manager walked in. Suddenly, I screeched. Everyone rushed to the back to see Bratty trying to jerk me back up as I kicked and screamed. The general manager jerked her away from me and dragged her into the office before coming to help. After I’d calmed down and come to, they asked if I want to pursue a case against Bratty. Still in a daze, I said no and went home. When I came back, Bratty was on suspension. The general manager was scared that I would want to press charges because I had a known disability and Bratty refused a reasonable accommodation and then assaulted me. I told him I wouldn’t press charges but I would not work with her again until she was trained on disabilities. He agreed and she was put on night shift for a few months while she was retrained on everything.)