Give Her Demands Plenty Of Leg-Room

, , , , | Right | September 28, 2018

(I work for a local farm that raises pastured meat to sell frozen at farmer’s markets. We also offer a CSA membership program. Members get a custom basket each month. Because they’re paying for a premium product, we try to be flexible with requests and changes. One customer consistently takes this a little too far, popping in at markets to pass along her latest specifications. My boss, the farm’s co-owner, recounts the latest episode to me…)

Customer: “I need to talk about my CSA.”

Owner: “What seems to be the problem?”

Customer: “I don’t want chickens where the legs are put straight like this–” *motions for two parallel lines sticking up, how the legs roughly sit on a standard packaged small whole chicken*

Owner: “May I ask why you weren’t happy with the other birds?”

Customer: “Chickens like that take too long to cook. I always cook a chicken for thirty-five minutes, but I cooked those chickens for two hours and they still were not done! I don’t want any more with the legs like that.”

(We have already had chickens specially processed at a smaller weight for her, a long compromise after she was displeased with several other products.)

Owner: “Are you sure the legs are what’s causing the problem? We could look but—”

Customer: “No, no, no more chickens with the legs like that. Thank you!”

(She quickly walked away from our stand. That is how we later found ourselves staring at frozen poultry, trying to determine how else one can direct a butcher to package an exceptionally scrawny chicken, and in what world leg positioning affects cooking time. Her CSA basket is too large to risk losing.)

Might Not Just Be The Drinks They’re Sharing

, , , , , | Right | September 21, 2018

(I am a cashier at a small, gourmet grocery store. Two men approach my register, each with a drink they wish to purchase. They place both drinks on the register counter and move towards the card reader.)

Me: “Are you two together?”

Man #1: “Oh, no, no, no, no. Nothing like that.”

Man #2: “No, we’re just friends! Just friends!

Me: “Sorry, I meant, ‘Will the drinks be paid for in one transaction?'”

Man #1: “Oh, yes.”

Front End Manager: *muttering two registers behind me* “Thou protesteth too much.”

They Don’t Have Seniority Over Discounts

, , , , | Right | September 19, 2018

(I work in a charity store, where Wednesdays are a nightmare because of senior day — older people get 30% off. Unfortunately, most of them are really entitled, so everyone kind of dreads this day. It’s 9:04; our store is closed, and I’m ringing out our last customers. A lady keeps dragging furniture up to the register where I’m ringing out her family.)

Customer: “How much for the little tykes car? The tag was missing.”

Me: “Oh, sorry, that means it’s probably been sold, and if not we’ll have to retag it in the morning.”

Customer: “But I want it.”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am. It’ll be repriced in the morning.”

Customer: *drags the car up to the front* “This car?”

Me: “Sorry, it looks like the bottom part of the tag is gone, so you’ll have to wait till morning.”

Customer: “Will I get my 30% off if I buy it tomorrow?”

(I’m getting a little fed up with this lady, and I can see her family is getting annoyed by her, too, so I look to my manager, hoping the lady will listen to her as she has more power.)

Manager: “Sorry, no. The discounts are automated on our computers.”

Customer: “But I want to buy it today!”

(She finally gave up and just set the car down. Her granddaughter had to tell her to put the dang thing away. But I bet you anything she’s going to come in the next morning saying we said she could get the discount.)

Unfair For The Fairer Sex

, , , , , , | Working | September 13, 2018

(My husband and I are both ex-Navy. We met while we were both serving aboard the same ship. Both of us still have and wear our official ship ball caps and cruise jackets. This incident takes place on Veteran’s Day. We are at a restaurant with our son, who is 15. We have just finished eating, and the waitress has brought us the bill. It must be noted that while we have our “gear” showing we’re veterans, we did not ask for the free dish offered to veterans.)

Waitress: *to my husband* “Since I see you’re a veteran, I went ahead and gave you your meal for free.”

Son: “My mom was in the Navy, too. “

Waitress: “Oh.” *to me* “Do you have your military ID?”

Me: “You know, I’ll just pay for mine.”

Waitress: “Well, I can’t give you the free meal without military ID. It’s policy.”

Me: “You didn’t ask for my husband’s military ID.”

Waitress: “Well, he has legitimate military gear. I’ve seen those jackets before and know they’re real.”

Me: “Like this jacket?” *pointing to mine, which looks exactly like my husbands*

Waitress: “Oh… Well… I’ll do it just this once, but next time you need your ID.”

Me: “You know what? Never mind. I didn’t ask for it in the first place. You go ahead and leave it on there. But just so you’re aware, this is the 21st century, and women do serve in the military right along with men.”

(No, I did not get the free Veteran’s Day meal, and no, she did not get a tip, either.)

This Crime Has Gone Down The Toilet

, , , , , , , | Legal | September 9, 2018

(I am a shift manager for a fast food chain. We are one block off the square in a major college town with about a dozen bars, pubs, and clubs within walking distance, so on the weekends, our lobby is open until midnight. I’m in the back, when one of the girls running the lobby register runs back and says she needs me NOW. I hurry up to the counter in time to see a middle-aged guy with some sort of panel trying to get out of the lobby through the front door. As I approach the guy I realize he has somehow taken the urinal divider wall from the mens’ restroom.)

Me: “Sir, what are you doing?”

Man: *very drunk, yet extremely polite* “I’m having a hard time getting this to fit out the door; can you help me, please?”

(I’m dumbfounded.)

Me: “Why don’t you sit down for a minute and I’ll get someone to help you.”

(I sit him down and gave him a free cup of water, and just call the police.)

Police Dispatcher: “[Town] sheriff’s office…”

Me: *introduces self and provides location* “Yeah, I need some police officers here to help with a drunk customer.”

Police Dispatcher: “Is he being irate or violent?”

Me: “No, but he’s trying to steal the urinal wall from the restroom; he already has it in the lobby but can’t manage the front door”

Police Dispatcher: *long pause* “Could you repeat that?” *trying very hard not to laugh*

Me: *chuckling* “Yeah. He’s trying to take off with it. He’s being very polite and, other than the obvious, he is not being disruptive”

Police Dispatcher: *losing it by now* “Okay, hun, we will send someone out. Did he say why he wanted it?”

Me: “No, and I didn’t want to ask, but you’re right. Why would anyone want it?”

Dispatcher: “I don’t know, but a patrol will be there in a few minutes.”

(The police showed up and, after a few minutes of talking to him, took him out to the car without causing a scene, and I’m assuming they took him to the drunk tank. I wound up having to call our maintenance guy the next day to rehang the wall. We’re still not sure how he got it off the wall, or what he wanted it for.)

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