In a financial aid office at a private university in Florida, I ask a student for his mother’s federal tax form, as required by the federal government to receive financial aid. He says she is dead. We tell him we are very sorry for his loss and request a death certificate, again, as required by the federal government. The student goes away and returns three days later.

Student: “Here is my mother’s federal income tax form.”

Me: *Stunned* “Is this your stepmother?”

Student: “No, my mom.”

Me: “I’m sorry, I thought she was deceased?”

Student: “She got better.”

I’ve seen everything that happens in colleges.

Me: “Okay.”

The store I’m working at is well-known for its lenient return policy. It’s my last day working there. A woman comes to my register with what was a four-pack of turnovers. Three are gone, and the remaining one has a bite taken out of it.

Customer: “I’d like to return these.”

Me: “I’m sorry, I can’t process returns here. The customer service desk can help you with that.”

Customer: “But I want to return these.”

Me: “And I can’t process returns at this register. See that nice man with the dark hair and glasses at customer service? He can help you with that.”

I point out the coworker in question, who has heard me. He waves.

Coworker: “Yes, ma’am! I can help you right over here!”

The customer looks at him and back at me. She tries to shove the container at me.

Customer: “I didn’t like them. Return them.”

I’ve got about two hours left on my shift, and I’m fed up.

Me: “So, it took you eating three turnovers and taking a bite out of the fourth to determine you didn’t like them?”

The customer stares at me.

Customer: “If I’m not satisfied, I get my money back. I want my money back!”

Me: “And as I’ve told you twice, I cannot process returns at this register. Please take your half-eaten dessert to the customer service desk and they will process your refund.”

She stares at me for a good ninety seconds and then storms off to customer service. My coworker processes the return and comes over to my register, laughing.

Coworker: “You’re lucky it’s your last day. That was great!“

I sell tickets at the resort with two theme parks and the boy wizard. A couple comes to my window to pick up a pre-purchased order. We are VERY strict about needing to see ID to pick up these orders, especially for Florida resident tickets, which require proof of residency for everyone over eighteen.

Guest: “But I don’t have my ID; I left it in the car.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but without ID, I cannot issue these tickets.”

Guest: “But I’ve already paid for them!”

Me: “I understand that, but I still need to see your ID. Do you happen to have a picture of it on your phone? That would be sufficient.”

Guest: “Of course not. Who does that?”

Lots of people, actually, but she obviously doesn’t want to hear that.

Guest: “So, are you telling me I have to go all the way back out to my car and back just to get my ID, just to get my tickets that I’ve already paid for?”

Me: “I’m afraid so.”

I’m genuinely sympathetic at this point, as it is a bit of a hike back to the parking garages.

Me: “But when you get back, you won’t have to wait in line again. Just let the person at the start of the line know what’s going on and they can bring you straight back to me. We can at least save you that little bit of time.”

Guest: “I’m not doing that. I want someone to carry me. Can you get someone to do that?”

I’m certain I must have heard her wrong.

Me: “I… I beg… I, uh… Come again?”

Guest: “I’m not walking all the way back there just for my ID. I want someone to pick me up and carry me to my car and back again. Is there someone who will do that?”

We have an awkward staring contest for several seconds until I regain my power of speech. My “customer service conciliatory” voice does not come back for the rest of the conversation.

Me: “No.”

Guest: “Then I want a refund on my tickets. Give me that, instead.”

Me: “Guest Services are the only ones who can refund pre-orders.”

Guest: “I’m not walking all the way over there, either. You’ll do it.”

Guest Services can’t be more than 100 yards away, and she points toward it as she says that, so she clearly knows where it is.

Me: “I cannot. Guest Services can.”

Guest: “I. Want. A. Refund!”

Me: “Go. To. Guest. Services.”

Guest: “I AM NEVER COMING BACK HERE AGAIN, DO YOU PEOPLE HEAR ME?! [HUSBAND], WE’RE GOING HOME!”

She stormed away, not toward Guest Services, but back toward the parking garages. So, judging by the address on the order, she’d presumably gotten up early enough to get to Orlando from close to three hours away by about 9:30 in the morning, only to turn right around and go back home because she wouldn’t walk back to the car for her ID — even though she was going to walk around the park all day. And she was leaving without her money because she wouldn’t walk the tiny distance necessary to get it — even though she was willing to walk back to the car to leave. Whatever makes you feel like you won, lady.

My husband has a love for a certain fast food restaurant’s honey chicken breakfast biscuit. Unfortunately, they stop serving them at 10:30 am. He gets off work early one morning and decides he is going to swing by to take advantage of a sale and get a bunch of them for the family. He hits the drive-thru at exactly 10:24. In front of him is some guy having a conversation with the poor girl taking the order.

Customer: “Yeah, ummmmm, so I am looking at the menu. Is that chicken real or processed?”

Employee: “I’m sorry, sir? I… I… really have no idea.”

Customer: “Well, can you find out? I don’t want processed food.”

Employee: “Um, okay, I need to go ask the manager.”

My husband is fuming at this point and thinking, “If this guy doesn’t hurry up, it will be past 10:30 and I won’t get my chicken biscuits, and frankly, if this guy is so concerned about processed food, he should go to one of those whole food grocery stores or head to a farm.”

Employee: “Okay, we really have no idea, sir.”

Customer: “I don’t want to take the chance on getting something processed, so I will take the sausage biscuits.”

My husband says he could almost hear the girl face-palming. You can’t get more processed than sausage. 

My husband pulls up and the girl asks what he would like to order.

Husband: “Yeah, I want eight processed chicken biscuits.” 

She burst out laughing and asked him to pull around to the window. She told my husband that everyone in the drive-thru heard him and the whole crew was dying laughing. They threw in a free biscuit for my husband.

Related:
Never Sausage A Thing Before, Part 2
Never Sausage A Thing Before

I go grab a sandwich at a well-known sub shop with a friend. I arrive before she does and I decide to go ahead and order. It isn’t during the lunch hour, so I am the only one in the store except for the employee behind the counter and the employee on break in the dining area. The employee behind the counter, an older lady, is very polite but it seems like she’s had a long day.

Employee: “What can I get you?”

Me: “I’d like a six-inch turkey and provolone on herb and cheese bread, please, with lettuce, tomatoes, and cucumber.”

Employee: “You said six-inch.”

Me: “Yes.”

Employee: “Okay, sorry.”

She grabs the bread and slices it open.

Employee: “Turkey, right?”

Me: “Yes, ma’am.”

Employee: “Right, sorry.”

She puts the turkey on.

Employee: “And provolone? I’m sorry I’m asking so many questions, I just want to make sure I’ve got it right.”

Me: “Yeah, no worries! You’ve got everything perfect.”

She visibly relaxes and continues making the sandwich.

Employee: “Lettuce, tomatoes, cucumber, right?”

Me: “Yeah, see? You got this!”

Employee: “You know, I gotta say thank you. You’re probably the nicest person I’ve had in here today.”

Me: “Wow, really? Well, you’re doing a great job! I used to work fast food, so I understand.”

She smiled and finished up my order, and by that time, my friend had arrived, so we left the counter to find a table. I didn’t get to talk to the lady again before I left, but I’m glad I could help make her day a little easier. Be patient with people who are serving you! Your kindness might be the only kindness they see all day!