Of All The Lies To Tell

, , , , | Right | August 6, 2008

Snooty Customer: “I want a milkshake, but I want it made THICK. Last time I had a shake here, it was like drinking ice cream flavored water!”

Me: “I can assure you that I can make you a very thick milkshake, ma’am. What flavor would you like?”

Snooty Customer: “A milkshake! I want a milkshake!”

Me: “Yes, ma’am. What FLAVOR of milkshake would you like?”

Snooty Customer: “I told you I wanted an extra chocolaty chocolate one!”

Me: “Yes, ma’am. One extra chocolaty chocolate milkshake, thick.”

(I fill the milkshake cup with chocolate ice cream and use hot fudge sauce instead of chocolate syrup. I add maybe a tablespoon of milk. I get it mixed up and ring her up, and she leaves. A few minutes later she returns, cuts in front of about 10 people waiting in line and slams her milkshake on the counter.)

Snooty Customer: “I want to talk to a manager! I want to know why no one here can do their d*** job!”

Manager: “How can I help you, ma’am?”

Snooty Customer: “I told that girl there I wanted a normal chocolate milkshake, and this is so thick I can’t get it through the straw! I just gave myself a headache trying to drink this thing! I demand double my money back, a free milkshake, and some ibuprofen!”

Manager: “Ma’am, I was standing right behind her when you placed your order. She made you what you asked for. An extra chocolaty shake that was thick. I am not returning your money or giving you a new milkshake.”

Snooty Customer: “But, my husband is Dr. [Name] and I always get what I want!”

(Suddenly, another customer who has been standing in line and watching the whole thing speaks up.)

Another Customer: “Excuse me, b****, but Dr. [Name] is my BROTHER and you sure as h*** aren’t his wife, you d*** liar!”

Snooty Customer: *leaves in a huff*

(My manager gave the other customer her entire order on the house. She deserved it, whether it was true or not.)

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A Fine Line Between Smarta** and Dumba**

, , , , , , | Right | July 7, 2008

(I work at a popular fast food restaurant. Drive-through customers should be aware that we can hear every word they say.)

Coworker: “Hi, welcome to [fast food place]. How can I help you?”

Customer: “I just need a minute to decide.”

Coworker: “No problem, just let me know when you are ready.”

(The customer talks to his passengers, while we listen…)

Customer: *to his passengers* “I should ask for something dumb on my ice cream, just to see what they say. How about pickles? They would probably just ignore me. Oh, I know… tomatoes!”

Customer: *to my coworker* “Okay, I’m ready.”

Coworker: “Alright, go ahead…”

Customer: “I’d like an ice cream sundae with tomatoes on it, please.”

Coworker: “I’m sorry, due to the recent recall in the States, we aren’t serving tomatoes right now. Can I offer you a sundae with pickles instead?”

Customer: *drives off without ordering anything*

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Postman 1, Preemptive Strike 0

, , , , | Right | July 4, 2008

(I’m waiting in line and overhear a conversation between the customer in front of me and the postman at the front counter.)

Customer: “I need to ship this package out.”

Postman: “Okay. Would you like to upgrade this to priority shipping?”

Customer: “No, I just want to send this by regular mail. I don’t need anything else or any other services.”

Postman: “Okay, that’ll be $10.00 for the shipping. Do you need any stamps today?”

Customer: “No! No stamps, no certified mail, no post office box, no passport. I just need to ship this package out–that’s it. Did I miss anything?!”

Postman: *without skipping a beat* “Do you need any money orders today, ma’am?”

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Full Of Sound And Fury, Signifying Nothing

, , , , , | Right | July 2, 2008

(It is in between Halloween and Christmas and we are changing the promotional aisle and switching stuff out. There is literally nothing in the aisle but folded down cardboard boxes, and signs are up saying “temporary out of order.”)

Customer: “I want to speak to your manager!”

Me: “Okay, is everything all right?”

Customer: “No! I was walking down the aisle with cardboard and I fell. I am blaming you!”

Me: “I didn’t make you walk down the aisle… Didn’t you see the sign?”

Customer: “I needed something down that aisle! I am going to have you fired for your rude attitude!”

(I call the manager on the PA system.)

Customer: “You’re going to be in trouble!”

Manager: “What seems to be the problem?”

Customer: “I fell down in the aisle with cardboard boxes. It’s all this kid’s fault.”

Manager: “You shouldn’t have walked down the aisle, then. I suggest you leave before I call the police for harassing one of my employees.”

Customer: *faking she’s in pain* “I don’t believe this! I am going to call the corporate office!”

Manager: “Right after I call the police.” *walks away to “call the police”*

Me: “You got him mad. He is a mean one when he is mad.”

Customer: “Really?”

Me: “Oh, yeah!”

Customer: ‘Um… I have to get my cell phone out of the car.” *leaves quickly*

(She never returned.)

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Caught Brown Handed

, , , , , , | Right | June 30, 2008

(In the Chinese restaurant where I work, we have little bottles of soy sauce on every table. They look like they’re tightly closed, but the top actually doesn’t close at all. A lady and her daughter finish dinner and are leaving.)

Me: “Excuse me, madam, but I’m afraid the soy sauce is restaurant property. You can’t take it.”

Mother: “You calling me a thief? I want to speak to the manager! This will cost you your job, you little b****!”

Daughter: “Um, mum…”

Me: “The manager is not in right now, but if you want the sauce, it’s on sale at the front of the restaurant.”

Mother: “You’ve got some nerve! I never even touched your stinking sauce, you c***! Call the manager now!”

(Several customers are starting to giggle and the daughter looks like she’s about to die.)

Me: “Maybe you have taken the sauce without noticing? Because I’m sure you touched it at some point.”

Mother: “You’re sure? I tell you I didn’t touch it! You can’t treat your customers that way! You telling me you’ve been spying on me or something?”

Me: “Certainly not. But the huge brown stain on your purse is hard to ignore.”

(Her daughter dragged her by the arm and they stormed out the front door, leaving a sticky trail of soy sauce from the mother’s cloth purse. I laughed so hard I didn’t even mind them stealing the sauce.)


This story was included in our Chinese Restaurant Roundup.

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