I’m a manager at a small chain fast-casual sushi joint. We accept online orders for pick-up or delivery through third-party platforms. We have standard online options for modifications with a space after each item for comments. Also important to note, we don’t (currently) charge for additional sauces.

I have an online ticket come in for delivery an hour before close, with four sushi rolls and a rice bowl. All five items have notes in the comments that they want extra sauce. The bowl, which is a special promotional lobster item and thus gets a bag of chips free, also has notes that they want an extra bag of chips. This happens thirty minutes before close, as I’m supposed to be having two employees leave, but we’re getting hit with a rush.

A guy walks in holding a bag with four rolls and a bowl. Please note, he really does talk this way.

Customer: “Hey, I gots a issue.”

Me: “Yes, sir, what can I help you with?”

Customer: “My girl ain’t gots her sauces.”

Me: “Oh! I remember that order. Was it supposed to be [lists off the extra sauces they had typed in]?”

Customer: “Nah, nah. That ain’t right. But I ain’t know this stuff. Hold up. I gots it wrote down in the car.”

He leaves and comes back in with the ticket we stapled to his bag.

Customer: “See? She done tole me what she be needin’. This ain’t be for me. It be my girl. She’s be eatin’s it. And she done paid for them sauces and ain’t seeing’ ‘em.”

Me: “Sir, I know what happened. I personally made and sauced all of your food. I saw the comment about extra sauces, and since it didn’t specify that you wanted them on the side, I put the extra on the meal items already.”

Customer: “But my girl done paid for them sauces and ain’t gots them, and I drove back here for thems list there. How’s I gonna pay and ain’ts gots ’em?”

Me: “Sir, typing a comment does not mean that you’ve paid extra. In fact, I can’t charge you extra for sauce. There’s no button in my register for it. I know I already put extra on all of them, but if you give me sixty seconds, I can grab an additional side of each of those for you.”

Cue him arguing with me for the next ten minutes, not letting me step the three feet to the sauce station, about how they’ve paid for extra already and now had to drive all the way back here just to get their money’s worth. After he finally lets me grab the sauces:

Customer: “And she gots to has her chips she done paid extra for, too.”

He points again to the typed-in comment asking for extra chips.

Me: “Sir, the chips are only available when you purchase a lobster meal. There is absolutely no way to get extra, by asking or paying. It can’t be done.”

Customer: “But she done paid, so how’s you gonna be says that?”

Me: “Sir, typing a request does not charge your card extra money. I have been a manager here since before we started the lobster promotion, and there has never been a way to buy just the chips. I absolutely cannot give them to you. There are those sauces for you, though, and I hope you have a great night.”

He finally left after more than twenty minutes. I’ve never had a problem giving people extra sauces, within reason. Our boss does cap it at two extra sauces per entrée, and this guy only wanted one each. We’re just supposed to tell people that there isn’t a charge for sauces.

Related:
The Sauce Of Confusion

My last job was as a cook at a local [Chicken Fast Food Place], which was one of the faster ones in the area. I had been there for three and a half years and didn’t really have too many problems with management, and I was actually friends with some of them. But then, one of the senior staff members got promoted to a shift-runner, and that’s when this already average job got worse.

Because I had been at the job for a couple of years doing the same thing daily, I knew my s***. I knew how much chicken we would need on a given night, and I could pretty much do my chicken runs by myself. All the other managers let me do it because they were often too busy to watch and manage chicken.

This newly-promoted manager didn’t like that I was bypassing her in the so-called chain of command and not listening to projections that were inaccurate the majority of the time, and she started getting annoyed. Sure, sometimes we had a bit of wastage, but everyone else agreed it was better to have a couple of pieces left over than to make a customer wait thirty minutes continuously. This manager had a go at me.

Manager: “[My Name], you’re not allowed to cook what you want. You have to wait until I tell you what to cook and then cook exactly the amount I tell you to.”

Me: “Even when it is super busy, you want me to interrupt you packing orders and making burgers to get you to tell me what I already know needs cooking?”

Manager: “Yes. I don’t care how busy I am. I will tell you what to cook. You have to wait for me to tell you!”

This happened on a Tuesday night — the busiest night at [Fast Food Place] where I live due to a promotion on chicken, nine pieces for $10.95. I didn’t cook unless [Manager] told me to, and in a matter of thirty to forty-five minutes, we were out of the original and spicy chicken with the drive-thru full and many customers waiting on chicken.

The manager walked out back, and the other cook and I were laughing, cleaning things, and sweeping the floor. No chicken was down, the fryers were on cool so it would take a bit to heat up, and nothing was set up. The manager proceeded to yell at us.

Manager: “Why is there no chicken cooking?! Customers are waiting and we’re completely out!”

Me: “Well, you told me today that I couldn’t cook without permission, and you haven’t told us to cook for the past hour.”

The number of complaints and pissed-off customers having a go at staff members was insane.

Sure, I was behind for the remainder of my shift, and we got a lot of flak from customers that night, but [Manager] started letting us cook to our judgment from then on.

I work in a fast food place, and I was closing up. The lights were off. I flipped the sign to closed and was getting ready to lock the door when it flew open, nearly hitting me. A lady went to the counter and began demanding ice cream.

Manager: “I’m sorry, but the restaurant is closed.”

Lady: “Since the doors weren’t locked, you have to serve me! Now give me my ice cream!”

Manager: “Ma’am, we are closed. The ice cream machine has already been taken apart for cleaning.”

Lady: *Yelling* “I’m having a pregnancy craving for your ice cream! I need it! Since I came in before the doors were locked, you have to serve me!”

Manager: “The lights are off and the closed sign has been flipped. We are closed. The ice cream machine is being cleaned.”

The lady began begging and trying to bargain for ice cream.

Lady: “It won’t take long! Pleeeeease? I’m having a bad pregnancy craving! Please, just pour the melted mix into a cup! Please! I’ll pay anything! Please!”

The manager kept asking her to leave, and she eventually did.

Related:
You Scream, I Scream, We All Scream For Stupid Customers
You Scream, I Scream For Service!
I Scream For More Ice Cream
I Scream Like A Man For Ice Cream
I Scream, You Scream, We All Scream…

I work in fast food. A lady comes in, and I meet her at the front register.

Me: “Just to let you know—”

Lady: “Um, I’m still deciding.”

Me: “Okay, take your time, but—”

Lady: “Just give me a second!”

I drop the customer service voice and get a little aggressive.

Me: “Okay, but I need to let you know that we’re out of eggs.”

Lady: “Oh, you’re out of eggs?”

My customer service voice returns.

Me: “Yes, I’m sorry. You can still order whatever you’d like, but it won’t have eggs.”

Lady: “Okay, so no eggs.”

Me: “Yup. Again, I’m sorry about that, but we’ve got several items without eggs, or I can ask them to add extra meat.”

Lady: “Oh, okay… Can I get a bacon, egg, and cheese biscuit?”

Me: “Okay, but like I said, we’re out of eggs, so it’ll just have to be bacon and cheese. Is that okay?”

Lady: “Oh… Are you guys going out of business?”

Me: “Um, no?”

Lady: “You should be!”

Then, she turned around and walked out.

For anyone curious, the reason we were out of eggs was that the egg cooker had broken. We got it fixed the next morning!

Every day — I kid you not, every f****** day — this dirty-looking guy comes in.

Customer: “Gimme two [ninety-nine-cent hamburgers] with extra pickles on the side. Those burgers are not to be microwaved!”

We microwave all burgers to ensure the buns are warm. When we give him his burgers, he always unwraps one at the counter and takes a bite to make sure it’s acceptable, and he almost always flips out, screaming at the employees, who are mostly teenagers.

Customer: “My burger is cold!”

We apologetically take the g**d*** burgers back and microwave them and hand them back out to him, and of COURSE, he says:

Customer: “Now that’s how you make a burger!”

I’d love to just microwave them the first time to avoid this, but management says we have to comply with the order as given. Looking forward to repeating this tomorrow!