I work at a museum that also has a single-screen movie theater. As there is only one screen, there is only one entrance. However, there is both a ramp and a staircase leading down to the door, which has a giant sign with an arrow that says, “Theater,” on it.

An older couple approaches me shortly after I’ve scanned their tickets.

Man: “Hey! How do you get into the theater?”

Me: “Just go down the stairs or the ramp there; it’s on your right.”

I then watch them go down the stairs, bypass the theater door, do a 180 to the right, and go straight back up to where they just were. They then look around, confused as to why they aren’t in the theater yet.

Man: “I just don’t get it! Where is the theater?”

Me: “Let me show you.”

I’m out to lunch with family at a popular pizza place. I order a small veggie pizza. A couple of bites in, I realize that it’s really spicy. A relative tries a slice and confirms that it’s not just me. My stomach is very sensitive to spicy food, so this isn’t good for me. I flag down the waiter.

Me: “Hi. Does this veggie pizza have jalapeños on it?”

Waiter: “No. Why do you ask?”

Me: “It’s spicy. Really spicy.”

Waiter: “That’s odd. One second, I’ll get my manager.”

He comes back with a manager.

Manager: “I understand there’s an issue with the pizza?”

Me: “It’s very spicy. I’m pretty sensitive to spicy food, so I just wanted to make sure there aren’t jalapeños on it.”

Manager: “There’s not supposed to be. The veggies are sautéed in salt, black pepper, and olive oil. Let me check with the kitchen to see exactly what went on your pizza.”

The manager disappears for several minutes. He returns, shaking his head.

Manager: “Ma’am, I have found the problem, and I’m very sorry. It seems that our chef accidentally sautéed all the vegetables for the veggie pizza in an excessive amount of crushed red pepper flakes this morning. Your pizza is free, obviously…”

This story is part of the Spicy roundup!

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I work at a call center for an insurance company, though we are brokers, so we work with multiple companies. When customers visit one of our offices, a broker will sit them down, take their info and, if interested, a policy document is provided, with the customer’s name and address on each and every one of the pages, so if you sign, you basically agree that the information on the contract you read is correct and true, etc.

Me: “Thank you for calling [Insurance Company]. My name is [My Name]. May I have your policy number?

Customer: “Yes, it’s [number]. I haven’t received my bills from you guys and want to make sure everything’s all right.”

After verification, I check her account. It was just opened up less than a month ago and it’s already cancelled for non-payment. I look at the address on file and on her physical policy which we keep scanned copies of, and realize her street address was misspelled. The current address was not found by a search engine.

Me: “I’ve noticed that your street name is Wheelchair. Is that correct?”

Customer: *Laughs* “No, everyone here pronounces it ‘Wheelchair,’ but it’s Wilshire.”

She also spells it out.

Me: “It seems that’s the reason you haven’t gotten your bills, ma’am.”

Customer: “Oh, it happens.” *Still cheery*

Me: “Understandable. So, because a payment was not provided, most likely because of this, your policy has been cancelled. So, to reinstate it, it would only be [amount], including reinstatement fees.”

This is where all Hell breaks loose, where the customer’s tone of voice changes from merry to “everyone run for your lives.”

Customer: “What? What do you mean, reinstate fee? Why cancelled?”

Me: “Since your payment was not received and your grace period expired, your policy was cancelled—”

Customer: “Well, how is it my fault that your illiterate broker was too stupid to spell my address correctly?”

Me: “I do see that you signed your policy, in which—”

Customer: “I know I signed the policy, but your stupid coworker didn’t f****** spell my address correctly. How the f*** is it my fault?!”

Me: “As I’m trying to tell you, since you signed your policy, which includes your name and address on every single page, you are agreeing that said information is correct.”

Customer: “You’d better not be blaming this on me, you piece of s***. Fix it and reinstate my policy!”

Me: “I can definitely fix the spelling on that. Of course, I’d need a copy of your driver’s license to—”

Customer: “No! Fix it now and get me covered, or I’m taking this to corporate, you little s***head!”

Me: “I can provide you with corporate’s number so you can—”

Customer: “I’m done talking to you! Next time I call, this better be solved or you can kiss your f****** job goodbye!” *Hangs up*

I made sure to notate everything in case she calls back. Months after that happened, I quit that job… so I kissed it goodbye on my own accord!

Related:
Not Much Assurance About The Insurance, Part 14
Not Much Assurance About The Insurance, Part 13
Not Much Assurance About The Insurance, Part 12
Not Much Assurance About The Insurance, Part 11
Not Much Assurance About The Insurance, Part 10

I work at a donut shop that is more well known for its drinks. I am at the register taking orders while my coworker is in the back washing the dishes to prepare for closing. A customer walks up to me.

Me: “Hello! What can I get for you tonight?”

Customer: “I’ll get an original hot chocolate with no whipped cream.”

Me: “Perfect! What size would you like?”

Customer: “Original.”

We have our sizes listed above the register, for both our cold and hot drinks. They are both clearly labeled.

Me: “I apologize, sir, what size would you like?”

Customer: “Original.”

I’m getting frustrated as I can’t read minds.

Me: “What size, sir?”

The customer glares at me.

Customer’s Wife: “What size, honey?” 

Customer: “Regular.”

I finally got it out of him that he wanted a medium.

I am taking orders in the drive-thru. The next car pulls up.

Me: “How can I help you?”

Customer: “I want a coffee with a little bit of milk.”

Me: “Yes, is that hot or iced?”

Customer: “Hot, with a little bit of milk.”

Me: “Okay, a medium normally gets three milk; would you like one or two?”

Customer: “I don’t want cream!”

Me: “Yes, ma’am. You would like a little bit of milk. A medium normally gets three milk. So, would you like one or two, instead?”

Customer: “I don’t want cream!”

Me: “Yes, ma’am. I am sorry. You would like a little bit of milk. A medium normally gets three milk. So, would you like one or two, instead?”

Customer: “I DON’T WANT CREAM! I SAID MILK!”

Me: “Yes, ma’am, you would like a little bit of milk in your medium hot coffee. I am sorry, but I do not believe I am saying cream. A medium hot coffee normally gets three portions of milk. Since you want a little bit of milk, would you like one portion of milk or two portions of milk instead?”

Customer: “Oh, three.”

Me: “Thanks. So that is a medium hot coffee with the normal amount of milk! Anything else?” 

She ended up getting donuts, too. Luckily, she didn’t pick them out. I’ve done this job for a LONG time. That was the hardest medium hot coffee I’ve ever sold.

Related:
Not The Cream Of The Crop, Part 4
Not The Cream Of The Crop, Part 3
Not The Cream Of The Crop, Part 2
Not The Cream Of The Crop