If Only There Was A Site Where You Could Review Bad Customers, Too…

, , , | Right | October 2, 2018

(I work at a hostel reception. We have two main sites for bookings: a main site, where bookings go through automatically, which we use for check-ins, and a secondary site, from which we have to manually enter the bookings to the main site. A lady checks into a mixed dormitory, then returns and starts yelling.)

Lady: “I have booked a bed in a female dorm, and you have put me in a mixed dorm.”

Me: “One moment, please; let me check.”

(I check and see that she has used our main site for bookings, and therefore booked the mixed dorm and not the female one. As I try to explain that to her, she cuts me off.)

Lady: “As an American, I am a customer, and I don’t care what you have to say. I will leave the worst review ever.”

Me: *trying not to laugh* “As you wish! But as I tried to explain before, we have not modified your booking, and you got the confirmation by email stating that it is, indeed, mixed dorm.”

Lady: *yelling* “I don’t care what you say! Do you understand that I will leave the worst review?”

Me: *calm* “Yes. If you want, I can give you a refund, and you can look for something else; however, it is Friday night, and pretty much everything nearby is fully booked. So, do you want the refund?”

Lady: “Well, I have to sleep somewhere!”

(Later, when I told my manager that story, he said I could have just kicked her out without a refund. My manager is awesome!)

Transition Require Before You Can Tinkle

, , | Friendly | December 20, 2017

(A woman comes running out of the female shower room, in a towel, shrieking.)

Woman: “There’s a man inside there!”

Me: “What?! Anyone else? What’s he doing?” *to friend* “Go get staff.”

Woman: “I didn’t see anyone else. He’s just standing there half naked at the sinks.”

(A male and female staff comes over.)

Male Staff: “Is there anyone inside there?”

Female Voice: “I’m here! Alone.”

Female Staff: “Someone said there was a man in there.”

Woman: “There is! He’s shirtless.

Female Voice: “Sorry! That would be me. Just come in.”

(The female staff walks in and comes out a minute later.)

Female Staff: “It’s a boy kind of girl, wearing some skin colored binding.”

Woman: *relieved sigh* “Oh…”

(Some time later, I see a man walking around the hallways in the women’s quarters.)

Me: “Hey, miss? Or is it sir?”

Transman: *smiles* “Sir would be great. I’m a guy.”

Me: “Was that you in the showers earlier? I was outside when—”

Transman: “—a girl came out freaking about me?”

Me: “Yeah. Sorry that happened.”

Transman: “I don’t seem to fit anywhere. I can’t be with the men because there’s an F on my ID. And I freak out women.”

Me: “No, you do fit. I hope someday you wouldn’t have to be here, you belong with other men because you are one.”

Transman: “Thanks.”

(I kept in touch with him for a few years. Last I heard, his university allowed him to use the men’s washrooms and that he wants surgery after he gets a good job. He told me I was the first stranger, who wasn’t LGBTQ, who thought he might want to be called “sir”.)

That Sort Of Behavior Is Just Not Cricket

| Vancouver, BC, USA | Friendly | May 3, 2017

(I’m an English guy travelling around Canada. At one point I reach Vancouver and decide to stay there for a couple of weeks. During my stay, I come across some Aussie travellers who I run into regularly and have a drink with. One night I run into them at the hostel bar and they invite me to join them. With them is another friend I haven’t met before. From the moment I meet him it appears he has an issue with me being there. During the night, he keeps shooting rude and obnoxious comments at me and seems intent on picking a fight. I’ve spent time in Australia previously so I’m used to their sense of humour and having a bit of banter, but this guy seems to hate me being here. At one point, I’m talking to one of the guys and he interrupts me in the middle of talking.)

Rude Guy: “You Poms f****** suck at cricket.”

(He has a really nasty and arrogant smirk on his face as if he expects me to get upset about it.)

Me: “I don’t follow cricket; sorry, mate!”

Rude Guy: “You’re also s*** at rugby; f****** smashed ya last time we played ya!”

Me: “Sorry, dude, don’t follow rugby either.”

Rude Guy: “Why? Ya f****** gay? Bloody poof!”

Friend #1: “Mate, shut it!”

Rude Guy: “Got a mate who’s Scottish. He f****** hates you c***s!”

(His words are delivered with a lot of venom; I’m really confused how I upset him.)

Me: “Err… I’m sorry about that?”

(The guy is clearly sizing up for another insult, but one of his friends grabs his shoulder — he looks really annoyed about his behaviour.)

Friend #2: “He said SHUT UP! Now have a beer and relax!”

(For the rest of the the night, the rude guy proceeds to get louder and drunker, even getting into arguments with several people over the continued offensive comments he keeps making. He is at the point of getting thrown out and he is acting really threateningly towards others.)

Rude Guy: “OI! POOF!”

(He then proceeds to throw the lime from his glass at me really hard. It hits me between the eyes! While it doesn’t hurt me, it just seems childish and immature.)

Rude Guy: “NOW F******* EAT IT!”

Me: “Seriously?”

Rude Guy: “WANNA TAKE THIS OUTSIDE? I’LL F****** SMASH YA, POOFTER!”

(With that, his friends stand up and grab him.)

Friend #1: “Right! You f*** off! Get out!”

Rude Guy: “You what?”

Friend #2: “Look bro, we just wanted to have a nice few beers with our new friend here and what do you do? Once again you act like a c***! Seriously, get lost; I’m fed up of this!”

Rude Guy: “But he was the one who started it!”

Friend #3: “Like f*** he did! Once again you decide to start a fight with someone for no bloody reason; now get outta here before WE take you outside!”

(The guy just stands there; he looks like he is tempted to take him up on the offer!)

Friend #1: “Go on, GET OUT!”

(Rude guy stormed out the bar; thankfully the rest of the night was uneventful and the guys and I had a good time. When I ran into them a couple days later, they told me their friend had packed up and left to go travelling elsewhere. Apparently, they were glad to be rid of him, because his behaviour had caused them trouble throughout their travels.)

Will Be In Your Head For A Long(stocking) Time

| Sweden | Working | May 25, 2016

(As part of my evening shift, I clean the dining area, the student kitchen, the hallway, the stairs, the lobby, and the toilets. Due to our guests currently being middle school classes and making a huge mess, and me not being able to find a way to do the cleaning efficiently, I’ve often had to work overtime. My coworker and I are discussing this during dinner service. I have a tendency to get nostalgic things from my childhood on my brain, and I also have a tendency to get songs stuck in other people’s brains.)

Me: “I used the method you used when cleaning the guest rooms, the one where you just pour soapy water on the floor and sweep, and I actually managed to get cleaning done on time! Thanks for recommending it!”

Coworker: “Yeah, I saw [Other Coworker] do it when she was cleaning the dining area two weeks ago. You don’t have to dip the mop in the bucket, so you save a bunch of time. It’s like Pippi Longstocking, only you don’t have scrubbers on your feet.”

Me: “Yeah, that would get cleaning done even faster… Hey, so it’s your fault that I’ve had Pippi stuck in my head for the past four days!”

Coworker: “Heh, maybe.”

Me: “The intro song to the cartoon, specifically! Did you watch that as a kid?”

Coworker: “Of course I did! It was the s***.”

Me: *singing* “What shall I do today? What shall we do today? What shall I do today? What shall I do?”

Coworker: *laughs and goes into the kitchen*

(I continue to watch over the dining area for a while, handing out portions and keeping an eye on the drinks table, when my coworker comes back.)

Coworker: “D*** it! Now I have the song stuck in my head too!”

Me: *evil laugh*

Try Number Two-na

| Norfolk, England, UK | Right | May 24, 2016

(We can make sandwiches which must be ordered the day before.)

Customer: “Hi, I ordered a tuna sandwich yesterday, but it isn’t here?”

Me: *looks over to where a sandwich is left* “There’s a tuna sandwich here—”

Customer: “That’s not mine, though.”

Me: “Do you know whose it is?”

Customer: “No. But it’s not mine.”

Me: “Are you sure?”

Customer: “Yes. I want another tuna sandwich.”

Me: “Right. Okay.”

(I take the sandwich into the kitchen and came back out with the same sandwich five minutes later.)

Customer: “Ah! Lovely. Thanks very much.”

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