Customer: “You got any flavors that are ‘high octane’?”

Me: “You’re gonna have to tell me what you mean by that”

Customer: “You know… ‘high octane’!”

Me: “No, I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking you.”

Customer: “Are you dumb? “High octane”!”

Me: “Well, as far as I’m aware, high octane means a high-quality gasoline designed to resist abnormal combustion. If eating our ice creams is causing you internal combustion issues and off-gassing, then I would say that’s a result of you not being able to properly digest it.”

Customer: “I mean like, crazy flavors!”

Me: “For those, we have black sesame, ube and langka, durian, and peanut butter chili.”

 The customer wrinkled their nose at those and ordered the ‘high octane’ flavor of cookie dough.

I’m a manager at a Dairy Queen. Twice a month, for the past half a year, I’ve had the same guy come in and buy an ice cream cake; my workers or I always ask the same question we’re required to, and we always get the same answer.

Worker: “Do you want anything written on it?”

Guy: “No, just the cake is fine. Lost a bet with my girlfriend.”

For whatever reason, my workers have come to the conclusion that this guy is single and just wants an excuse to have an ice cream cake, and often crack jokes about it while he’s on his way out.

Today, a girl comes in that none of us have seen before. Without even stopping to glance at the menu, she picks out an ice cream cake.

Me: “Do you want anything written on it?”

Girl: “The cake’s good as it is, thanks. I lost a bet with my boyfriend.”

I ring her up, she leaves with the cake, and I turn around to find my workers with their jaws on the floor, apparently stupefied at the fact that the cake-glutton they’ve been mocking does, in fact, have a girlfriend and regular wagers.

They spent the rest of the day pitying the poor guy who has been shelling out for ice cream cake twice a month just because his luck is that bad, rather than because of his own wants.

I work at an ice cream and froyo place that’s known for its natural ingredients, hence costing a little extra than other places.

A mother and her son have ordered and sat down, when the mother comes storming back up.

Customer: “This is my son’s vanilla bean yogurt!”

Me: “Okay, ma’am. Is there an issue with it?”

Customer: “You tell me?!”

She all but shoves it in my face.

Me: “I don’t see any immediate issues, ma’am.”

Customer: “It’s got black specks all over it! With the amount you guys charge and the amount you go on and on about using clean and natural ingredients, I would expect a better level of quality! Look at these black specks in the vanilla! What do you have to say for yourself?!”

Me: “You’re… welcome?”

Maybe I shouldn’t have said that, but she was being so aggressive and in my face, I felt an explanation of what natural and real vanilla bean looks like might not have gotten me very far…

A customer has ordered a blizzard, sat at the front of the store, eaten it, and then comes back over.

Customer: “Can I get a refund for this blizzard? It’s not what I ordered.”

The cup of ice cream is empty.

Me: “Not to sound too philosophical, but to return a blizzard, one must have a blizzard.”

Customer: “I ate it.”

Me: “That is apparent.”

Customer: “But it’s not what I ordered.”

Me: “Then why did you eat it?”

Customer: “Let me put it this way, I’m not leaving until I get my refund.”

Me: “Let me put it this way, if you want a refund, you need to put the blizzard that you ate back into that cup.”

Customer: “But I ate it!”

Me: “You’re the current container, dude. Transfer containers and then we’ll talk.”

The customer’s eyes go wide as he finally realizes that he’s been told he’s not getting that refund.

I got my first job nearly ten years ago at age sixteen, working at a local fast-food joint famous for its flippable blended ice cream desserts. I earned a fair share of stories from my time as a crewmember, and a couple more as a team lead, but my first day as a working citizen will ALWAYS hold a special place in my heart.

It’s Mother’s Day at 11:15; we’ve just opened for the day. I’ve already served my first two customers, an elderly couple who come in every day for the $5 lunch special. The manager training me continues to go over details about morning prep when we see another customer arriving.

Manager: “How do you feel about taking the next order on your own?”

Me: *Shrugs.* “Should be fine, I suppose.”

Manager: “I won’t be far, holler if you need me.”

[Manager] disappears around the corner behind me. In comes a lone woman holding a bouquet of fake roses.

Me: “Welcome to [fast food joint], how are we doing today?”

Customer: “Doing just fantastic today, and yourself?”

Me: “Starting my first day of work and I’m pretty pumped!” *Smiles.* “Will you be eating in or taking things to go today?”

I asked so I may begin the order process and tap one of my POS buttons.

Customer: *Smiles brightly at me.* “No, dear, I’m actually here simply to drop off a rose for every woman on staff today for Mother’s Day.”

Me: *Immediately attempting not to shed a tear at her offer.* “Whoa, that’s awesome! Let me check with my manager how many women we’ll have on shift today.”

Manager: *Already coming around the corner, grinning.* “Ma’am, that is so generous of you!”

My manager gives the count of women expected for the day, including herself.

Customer: *Handing over roses.* “Here you go, dearies. I think it’s important that every woman gets recognition on Mother’s Day. Not everyone has a good mother growing up, but that doesn’t mean it needs to be a s***ty day.”

Manager: *Wiping a tear away with her free hand.* “Well, thank you for that. I’ll make sure these get around at shift change.”

Customer: *Already headed for the door.* “Alright, hun, thank you. You all take care now.” *Looks back at me before stepping out of the building.* “Good luck, young man.” *Smiles and takes her leave.*

Me: “So who was that?”

I figured that, like with the two older customers, she maybe knew this woman’s name.

Manager: *Sets the roses on our cake prep counter and turns to me.* “I have literally never seen that woman before in my life, and this isn’t my first Mother’s Day working.”

We both look out the windows to watch her car depart.

Manager: “Don’t get used to that. Most of them are fine, occasionally you’ll get an interaction like that, and sometimes you’ll get your job threatened for forgetting to add a condiment to a burger.”

Me: *Raises an eyebrow.*

Manager: “Welcome to fast food.”