Customer: “I’d like a large milkshake and I have this coupon.”
(She hands over a coupon for fifty cents off that expired three years ago.)
Me: “I’m sorry, but this coupon expired three years ago.”
Customer: “Can’t you take it anyway?”
Me: “No, it’s too old to take.”
Customer: “Fine, just get me my milkshake.”
(She reluctantly pays and I hand her the milkshake.)
Me: “Have a good day!”
Customer: “NO, I WILL NOT HAVE A GOOD DAY, THANKS TO YOU!”
(I work in a popular ice cream shop in Boston, and one of our rules is that if we accidentally break a waffle cone while scooping ice cream into it, we must offer the customer the cone for free, or remake it. If they decide to keep it, we tell them to let the person at the register know so they don’t charge them for the cone. On this day, a particularly irate customer is yelling at a coworker, when the coworker asks me to help.)
Customer: “My girlfriend’s cone broke! Get us another one! It’s leaking everywhere!”
Coworker: “Oh, I’m sorry about that sir. Did she break it, or did the person scooping it break it?”
Customer: “I don’t know! That dumb b**** probably broke it!” *points at another coworker who had nothing to do with them*
Coworker: “Well, I can get you another cone, but if I do, you’ll have to pay for it.”
Customer: “WHAT? WHY?”
Me: “Sir, if we broke your cone, we would have given it to you for free. If you broke your cone, we’re not responsible for that, but we’re happy to make you another ice cream. You got a waffle cone, and that costs extra money.”
Customer: “FINE. Whatever! Just make a new one!”
(My coworker takes the melting ice cream, tosses it into the trash can, and starts to make a new one. The customer, seeing this, goes berserk.)
Customer: “What the f*** are you doing?!”
Me: “Sir, he threw away your broken and melting ice cream to make you a new one, like you asked us to…”
Customer: “BUT I COULD’VE KEPT THAT!”
Me: “Yes, but you would have had to keep the broken cone then, too.”
Customer: “OH, MY GOD, YOU GUYS ARE ALL F****** IDIOTS! GET ME A SMOOTHIE, INSTEAD!”
Me: “Um, you want a smoothie, instead of the cone? We can’t do that, sir; they’re not the same price. I can make you a smoothie and a new cone, but not substitute one for the other.”
Customer: “WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!”
(At this point, my manager came over and gave him a smoothie and a new ice cream for free, just to get his crazy a** out the door!)
(I’m working alone, as my coworker has just gone on lunch break. Two young boys, about seven or eight, approach the counter. One boy orders two milkshakes, one chocolate and one vanilla. I make their milkshakes, take his $20, and give a $10 note back. The boys hug and then split up. The one with the money goes and stands beside a woman sitting on a bench, looking at her phone. The woman takes the $10 and then starts talking to the boy. He points at me, and then they both start walking over.)
Mother: “Why did my son only get $10 back? I gave him $20! A milkshake does not cost $10! You are ripping off my child because you think he can’t count! I should report you to your corporate office! Who is your manager? I want to be served by someone who isn’t a thief!”
(The whole time, I am trying to explain, but I end up just letting her vent.)
Me: “I have been trying to explain, ma’am, that your son purchased two milkshakes — one for himself, and one for the other little boy over there”
(I point at the other boy, who is sitting by himself on a bench.)
Mother: “Well… well, you should have told me before! My son isn’t stupid, you know!”
Me: “I tried, ma’am. Did you ask your son why he only got $10 back?”
(The mother looked at her son and then grabbed him and walked off.)
(I’m visiting my boyfriend from out of state. He takes me to a local ice cream store, and since it’s slow, we’re talking to the one employee there.)
Employee: “Oh, where are you from?”
Me: “I’m originally from Washington state, but I’m living in [State] now.”
Employee: “Oh, so, that’s… in Mexico, right?”
(My boyfriend buries his face in his hands and is trying not to laugh.)
Me: “No, it’s in the northwest United States. Up near Canada?”
Employee: “Oh, so you’re Canadian! Your English is really good! How long did it take you to fly over? Or did you take a boat?”
(I couldn’t even think of a witty response.)
(I work in an ice cream parlor. I am training a new employee, showing him how to measure scoops, proper sundae technique, and the like. I have just demonstrated how to ring up a sale for a family in the lobby when I hear a sound, a very particular sound that sends my blood cold. Everyone who has kids knows exactly what sound I am talking about. It’s that weird little cough-choke sound that means only one thing: vomit is nigh. I hurriedly grab one of the large empty ice cream containers, but I am too late. The adorable little moppet EXPLODES, producing an incredible –and actually rather impressive — amount of bright green vomit. Everything within five feet of the kid is doused. The parents are in shock. The new hire is slack-jawed and turns to look at me in horror.)
Me: *grinning and slapping him on the back* “So… guess who’s the new guy?”
New Hire: *slumps dejectedly* “Aww…”
Me: “Nah, just kidding. I’ll help. Let’s show you where the bucket and sanitizer are.”
