A First Time Scoop

| Columbia, TN, USA | Right | May 12, 2015

(I manage a very well-known ice cream establishment, and have for many years. We have regular customers who get the same thing every day, but the customer in question here always changes her mind about what she wants. She still expects us to have it ready when she walks in the door, though.)

Me: “Hi, [Customer], what can we get for you today?”

Customer: “Oh, you know what I want!”

Me: “Let’s have you tell us, anyway, just so we know we got it right.”

Customer: *angrily* “The triple layer sundae, Snickers.”

Me: “All right, then.”

(I begin assembling her sundae. What she does, though, is change her order in the middle of its creation, so I do it slowly.)

Customer: “I want butter pecan ice cream, not Snickers.”

Me: “Okay, sure.” *scoop ice cream, begin putting on fudge and caramel*

Customer: “More fudge and caramel.”

Me: “Yes, ma’am.”

(At this point, the cup we use for this particular sundae is exploding, because it is only designed to fit exactly what is supposed to go in it. I put on the final scoop, and balance it like a pro, then proceed to grab the lid for it. But, before I even get the lid on it, she starts again.)

Customer: “Um, NO! I want an extra scoop. I ALWAYS GET AN EXTRA SCOOP!”

Me: “Okay, well, I’ll have to put it in a bigger cup.”

Customer: “FINE!”

(I dump the sundae into a bigger cup. There is still a very professional customer service smile planted on my face, even though I’m burning up on the inside.)

Customer: “WHAT is your problem?”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Customer: “You have such an attitude. Why couldn’t you just make it like I always get it in the first place?”

Me: “All right, ma’am. I am sorry if it came across as my having an attitude. That was not my intention. HOWEVER, you always have a new request when you come in, such as this new scoop, which you have never asked me, personally, for. I am simply trying to make you exactly what you want; that is all.”

(I’m still working on her sundae. Can’t stop, that stuff melts! Caramel, ice cream, Snickers, ice cream, hot fudge, ice cream, and then of course, her extra scoop. I begin, then, to put on her last spoonful of Snickers, and the lid.)

Customer: “CARAMEL! THEY ALWAYS PUT MORE CARAMEL!”

(Without speaking, I add the caramel, then the lid, bag it up, and ring up her order. I ring it up as a triple scoop sundae with three extra toppings, because that’s what she got.)

Customer: “That is WAY too much money. It never costs that much!”

Me: *prints out receipt* “This is what you got, and this is what it costs.”

Customer: “I’m not paying that for some lousy ice cream, especially after you had such an attitude! Who is your manager?”

Me: *smiles* “Actually, I’m the manager.”

Customer: “No, who is YOUR manager?”

Me: “I don’t have one. The only person above me is the owner of the store, and quite frankly, he would’ve asked you to leave already.”

Customer: “…”

Me: “Do you still want the ice cream?”

Customer: *throws money at me, takes change, grabs bag, stomps out*

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Making I Scream

| Maui, HI, USA | Right | March 12, 2015

(I work at a large national ice cream chain. Because corporate tries to be ‘fun,’ our service door says ‘Ice Cream Makers Only’ instead of Employees or Staff Only. One day, I see a man in an apron opening the door.)

Me: “Oh, please don’t go in there. It’s only for—”

Man: “Yup, I know, and I work at [Local Ice Cream Shop across the street].”

Me: “Fine, sir. You still can’t go in there.”

Man: “Chill, dude, we make our own ice cream. It’s not imported. I make the ice cream.”

Me: “Stop, please!”

(By now he has figured it out and is turning the handle.)

Me: *quickly locks the door*

Man: “LET ME IN! I deserve to be here!”

Me: “Please leave right now!”

Man: *banging on door* “NO! I AM ONE OF YOU!”

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Sharing Is Uncaring

| Chicago, IL, USA | Right | February 12, 2015

(It’s worth noting that I work in a very small store, with an ice cream counter that spans one end. It’s slow at the moment, so I’m wiping down the counter while my coworker is in back getting a head start on the dishes when a middle-aged woman comes in and gets an ice cream cone.)

Me: “All right, here you go. That’s $3.91”

Customer: “Thanks.” *hands me a five-dollar bill*

Me: “Okay, your change is $1.09, there you are!”

Customer: “Thanks.” *takes change*

(I think that’s the end of it, unless she drops some change into the communal tip jar. However, after pocketing the coins she leans over the counter and gives me a handshake, slipping the bill into my hand. I look at her, confused, as we have a very clearly marked tip jar a foot away.)

Customer: “I don’t believe in sharing.”

Me: “Um, thanks.”

(She walked out before I could say anything else. As I’m wondering what to do my coworker comes out of the doorway to the back, where he obviously saw everything.)

Coworker: “You handled that really well.”

Me: “Thanks. So should I just put this in the jar?”

Coworker: “No, that would be shared, and we can’t have that, now can we?”

The Sweetest Thing Wasn’t The Candy

| USA | Right | December 31, 2014

(The ice cream shop I work at also sells candy in a separate section. Since I’m working alone, I’ve closed the candy section. A girl who looks about nine comes in.)

Girl: “Excuse me, could I go in the candy spot?”

Me: “Sure.”

(I open the section and let her wander around. I notice she keeps approaching the candy bars, then backing away looking disappointed.)

Me: “Are you looking for something special?”

Girl: *shyly* “I only have this much…”

(She holds out her hand, revealing about twenty cents in nickels and pennies.)

Me: “Why don’t you look at the bulk bins? We sell that candy by the weight, so you can probably get something from there.”

(She heads to the bins I’m pointing at and carefully counts out a few candies to weigh.)

Me: “Okay, that’s going to be fourteen cents. Do you want to get a few more?”

Girl: “Nope, that’s just enough!”

(She handed me the money, but still had a few cents in her hand. As she took the bag from me, she dropped the remaining change in the tip jar and scurried out. She gave up a little extra candy to give me a tip. It was far from my largest tip, but it was my favorite.)

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Driving Up Prices And Driving Down Business

, | London, England, UK | Working | October 12, 2014

(I’m a native Londoner. Several years ago I had friends visiting from overseas, and took them sightseeing at the Tower of London. I went up to one of the many kiosks to get a drink. At this time, a can of soda was typically around 50p, but I was prepared to pay a bit more due to the location at a major tourist attraction.)

Vendor: “Yes?”

Me: “Coke, please.”

Vendor: “One pound fifty.”

Me: “What?!”

Vendor: *speaking loudly and slowly* “One. Pound. And. Fifty. Pence.”

Me: *with a very obvious London accent* “One fifty for a coke? You gotta be bloody joking.”

Vendor: “Oh, sorry love. Sixty pence, please. Thought you were a tourist.”

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