Literally Scream For Ice Cream

| CA, USA | Related | September 23, 2016

(I am working in an ice cream shop. A woman and her young son, about seven or so, walk in. The kid is immediately drawn to the ‘kid’s zone,’ a section with the brightest possible flavors. The kid orders the bright purple and green flavor, with a red raspberry swirl. Mom gets a vanilla scoop, and I ring up their order. The kid notices something wrong with his ice cream.)

Son: “I want sprinkles!”

Mother: “No, sweetie, we’re not getting sprinkles today.”

Son: “I want sprinkles!”

Mother: “No, no sprinkles today.”

Son: “I WANT SPRINKLES!”

(There follows an epic, screaming meltdown of the highest quality. The kid throws an absolute tantrum, kicking and pounding the table, howling at the unfairness of a universe that has failed to provide him with the sprinkles he clearly needs to continue existing.)

Mother: “Now, honey… if you don’t stop that soon, when we get home you’re getting a time-out.”

(I rolled my eyes, knowing full well that this would not have any effect. There was no way the kid will associate future punishment with current misdeeds, not at his age. Sure enough the screaming continued for another five minutes. Howling, hooting, jumping up and down. Mom caved. She bought ANOTHER scoop of ice cream, WITH sprinkles, which the child devoured without any sign of remorse or gratitude. I know that sometimes it can be hard dealing with a tantrum, and that some days are just exhausting, but I greatly fear that this lack of effective parenting will lead to that child becoming a monster.)

When Sugary Doesn’t Mean Sweet, Part 2

| Philadelphia, PA, USA | Right | September 5, 2016

Customer: “I’ll take a vanilla ice cream on a waffle cone, please.”

Me: *walks over and grabs a waffle cone*

Customer: “No, not that cone. A WAFFLE Cone.”

Me: *goes and grabs a wafer cone*

Customer: “No, a WAFFLE CONE.”

Me: *grabs a sugar cone*

Customer: “Yes, that one.”

Me: “A sugar cone.”

(A few minutes later, the same customer comes up…)

Customer: “Watermelon on a waffle cone.”

Me: *goes straight for the sugar cone*

Customer: “Yes, finally you got it right.”

Related:
When Sugary Doesn’t Mean Sweet

Brain Freeze

, | Brooklyn, NY, USA | Right | August 9, 2016

(I am about to order ice cream for my two young children. An older lady holding a cone rushes in front of us and pushes my three-year-old out of her way.)

Customer: “Hey, watch your kid!”

(She turns to the cashier.)

Customer: “Excuse me, but this ice cream is just so frozen it’s not even funny.”

Cashier: “I’m sorry about that, ma’am. Would you like me to get a new one?”

Customer: “Yes. And make it less frozen!”

(The cashier gets her another ice cream. She takes a lick and drops it in the nearby trashcan.)

Customer: “This is also too frozen! You have terrible service!”

Cashier: “Well, ma’am, the thing about ice cream is that it tends to freeze. The best advice I have for you is to wait until it melts.”

(The customer stomps off.)

Cashier: *to me* “You know what ice cream is, right?”

Ice Screaming For Some Proper Parenting

| USA | Right | June 20, 2016

(I work in an ice cream shop. All the employees here generally work shifts alone during the winter, since it’s not busy.)

Customer: *after buying ice cream for her two young kids* “Excuse me, I have to run over to [Grocery Store down the block]. Can you keep an eye on these two?”

Me: “No, ma’am, I have other work to do.”

Customer: “Just make sure they don’t get into trouble! I’ll be back in, like, 20 minutes.”

Me: “I can’t do that, ma’am, I have work to do in the back.”

Customer: “What are you doing in the back?”

Me: “Dishes.”

Customer: “That’s fine; just pop out to the front every few to make sure they’re not wandering off! Please?”

Me: *trying to stay polite* “I’m at work; I can’t be responsible for a customer’s children. I have to do my job.”

(I went to the back before she could bargain further. When I came back out later to help another customer, she’d left her kids anyway.)

Murdering Your Opinion

, | VA, USA | Right | June 9, 2016

(I work six hour day shifts on summer weekdays. As long as everything is clean and full, we’re allowed to read a book. I’m reading quietly, but set my book aside as the lone male customer approaches. I take his order, and we’re waiting for his card to go through when this happens.)

Customer: *gestures to book, the cover of which is hidden* “So, what trashy romance novel are we reading today? Twilight? Fifty Shades of Grey?”

Me: *silently holds up the book so he can see the title, which is “Murder on the Orient Express” by Agatha Christie*

Customer: “Oh… That’s a classic.”

Me: “Yes, sir. Now let me get you your ice cream.”

(Being pretentious about books is obnoxious. If he hadn’t been a customer I would have said something, but I could tell he was embarrassed when he left.)

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