I work in fast food. I go on my break and start playing “Pokémon Shield” on my Switch. I see a young boy, about seven years old, watching me. I look up and see his mother watching us. She nods, so I assume she’s giving me permission to talk to him.

Me: “Have you played before?”

Boy: “No.”

I let him play on it. I tell him I started playing when I was his age and give him pointers when he asks.

The alarm on my phone goes off indicating the end of my break, and I ask for my Switch back. The boy gives it back and thanks me for letting him play. I’m walking toward the staff room when I hear someone clear their throat behind me. I look back and see the boy’s mother behind me

Me: “Yes, can I help you?”

Mother: “Yes, you can let my son keep playing your game. You’re going to be working now, so he can play it until we leave. We’re paying customers, after all.”

Me: “Sorry, miss, but this is my property, so I’m putting it in my bag now.”

Mother: “No! Give my son your game!”

Boy: “Mum, stop. I don’t want her game. It’s hers.”

My manager comes over to see what the raised voices are about and why I am late from coming off my break.

Manager: “Is there a problem here?”

Mother: “Yes! She won’t give my son her game to play with. She’s going to be working now, so she should let him keep playing until we’re done.”

She has this smug look on her face like she thinks her logic is sound and my manager is just going to agree with her.

Manager: “Ma’am, it’s her property, and if she says no, then that’s her right.”

Mother: “But I’m a paying customer! My son should be able to play!”

Manager: “Ma’am, if she said no, then that’s the end of it. Now, you can either sit down and finish your food or you can leave.”

The woman stomped off to her table and grabbed her things before storming out with her son following behind her. I feel really bad for him because he was really sweet. My manager asked if I needed five minutes, but I told him I was fine, put my Switch in my bag, and went back to work.

It’s late and I have worked a long double shift. An ex-coworker comes in to get a meal.

Me: “Hi! What would you like?”

Customer: “Combo four, please.”

Me: “Combo meal four with fries and Dr. Pepper?”

Customer: “Would you like to go large with that?”

Me: “No, thank you.”

Customer: “That’ll be $4.95.”

Me: “Thanks… Wait…”

Customer: “Oh… what happened?”

Next Customer In Line: “Did you two just swap bodies?!”

This is what happens when two tired fast-food workers are on autopilot!

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I was taking a customer’s order over the headset when I ran into an unfortunately common issue: was he asking for iced tea or Hi-C? I tried various ways of clarification, including slowing down, enunciating, and using Hi-C’s full name, “Hi-C Fruit Punch” but I still couldn’t get a clear answer, so finally I punched in Hi-C.

Me: “Does everything on your screen look correct?”

Customer: “Yes.”

So, I told him his total and moved on.

I wound up being the lucky bugger who took his order out to the stall. He wanted iced tea. I got things sorted, but really, WHY SAY YES IF THE ANSWER IS NO?!

I work at a chain fast food restaurant that sells Greek food in the food court of a large shopping centre. The menu is very simple if you actually bother to read it; you can get a meal that includes salad, rice, potatoes, and your choice of meat, or you can get a pita, or variations on those. Importantly, unlike some other Greek fast food restaurants, we do not serve fries. Almost all of the food you can order on the menu is visible on food trays at the counter that we use to serve the food.

I’m standing at the counter and two women are standing ten feet away looking at the menu. I wave at them so they know they can come order whenever they’re ready. They completely ignore me and continue staring at the menu for a solid five minutes. Finally, one of the women comes up to the counter.

Customer: “Hi. I would like an order of poutine.”

For those of you who don’t know, poutine consists of fries, gravy, and cheese curds and is a very popular Canadian food. My coworker and I look at each other for a few seconds, confused, before I answer.

Me: “I’m sorry, but we don’t serve poutine.”

Customer: “Yes, you do.”

Me: “No, I’m sorry, but we really don’t.”

Customer: “Yes, you do, I swear to God I just saw it on your menu.”

Our menu is displayed on three televisions where a couple of the pictures switch between two options in order to show every type of meal, pita, and salad available.

Customer: “I saw it! A small for $5.99 and a large for $8.99. I was standing there waiting for it to come back on but it never did.”

Me: “I’m really sorry, I’m not sure what you saw, but I assure you that we do not serve poutine. We don’t have fries or gravy, and the only cheese we have is feta. There is no way I can make you poutine.”

Customer: “I saw it on your menu. You have to make it for me.”

At this point, I have no idea what to do. My best guess is that she saw poutine on the menu of the fried chicken restaurant right next to us but is stubbornly insisting that it was ours. There is no way we can make her this dish.

My coworker then jumps in to back me up.

Coworker: “We really don’t have poutine.”

The woman then stares at us angrily for about thirty seconds. A line is forming behind her.

Customer: “Fine, then! I know I saw it, but you won’t give it to me. I’ll go get it somewhere else!”

She finally left. Thank God. I will never understand the customers that think they know the menu better than the people that work there for eight hours a day!

A customer comes up to the counter, angry.

Customer: “My milkshake was bad, and you need to refund me and give me a free one!”

Me: “When did you buy the milkshake?”

Customer: “This morning! Give me my refund!”

Me: “Do you have a receipt?”

Customer: “Of course not! Who keeps their d*** receipt?!”

Me: “It’s just… our milkshake machine is broken. We’re not serving milkshakes today.”

Customer: “I meant yesterday morning!”

Me: “It was broken yesterday, too.”

Customer: “Ugh! Well, how long has it been broken?”

Me: “If I tell you how long it’s been broken, will your milkshake purchase conveniently be on the day before?”

Customer: “…”

Me: “…”

Customer: “F*** you!”

The customer storms out of the door while my coworker approaches me.

Coworker: “If you’re going to scam a fast food place, don’t use the one product that’s always, always broken!”