Guest: “Do you have a macrowave?”

Me: “You mean a microwave? It’s at the–”

Guest: “I don’t like your microwave. I need a macrowave.”

Me: “There’s no such thing as a macrowave.”

Guest: “Well, your microwave isn’t heating my food fast enough. I want a macrowave instead!”

Me: “Sorry, but it’s a standard microwave. Perhaps you can check if you have it on a low setting?”

Guest: “What?”

Me: “There’s should a dial going from low to high under the timer dial.”

Guest: “It’s on low.”

Me: “Change it to high.”

Guest: “So, it’s macrowaves now?”

Me: “No, but your food will now heat faster.”

Guest: “Are you sure?”

Me: “Yes. Ring us again if there’s a problem.”

This story is part of the Microwave Oven roundup!

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(I work at the main train station information desk. An angry customer storms up to me after trying to get a ticket out of the automatic machines.)

Customer: “Your God-d*** machines are broken, as usual!

Me: “What seems to be the problem, sir?”

Customer: “I wanted a ticket for the 9:15 train to [city] and your stupid machine won’t sell it to me! It’s broken, as usual!”

Me: “Uh, sir–”

Customer: “You guys are so useless! This is hopeless! Every time I come here, there’s a problem! You’re all a bunch of stupid f***s!”

Me: “Well, sir–”

Customer: “All I want is a ticket for the 9:15 train! I get it every f****** day, and there is always a problem!”

Me: “What I’m trying to say it that–”

Customer: “Oh, don’t you even try! Don’t you even try giving me that s***! Now, you’re going to tell me you don’t sell tickets. You don’t have control over the machines and everything, huh? You’re just a stupid information desk! Well, you know what? I’m not queuing up to the f***ing ticket office because you’re a g**d*** idiot!”

Me: “If you just–”

Customer: “You’re going to say you’re right, aren’t you?”

(This goes ahead for a good five minutes. In the end, I just stare at him while he rants about how terribly stupid I am and how horrible the service is. I just keep silent and stare at him until he’s finished.)

Customer: “So, are you going to give me that ticket or not?”

Me: “Sir, it’s five past ten.”

Customer: “What?”

Me: “It’s five past ten. That’s why the machine won’t sell you a ticket for the 9:15 train–that train is gone almost an hour ago.”

Customer: “What the h*** are you talking about?”

Me: “Sir, last night we switched back from daylight savings time. It means the clock went one hour ahead. It is not five past nine right now, but five past ten. That’s why you can’t buy a ticket for the 9:15 train to [city]. However, if you hurry up, you’ll manage the 10:15 one.”

(The customer looks at me in disbelief, then looks at the time on the main train timetable, then at his own watch, and eventually back at me.)

Customer: “Yeah…uh…I think I’ll try and catch that 10:15 one, then. Thanks…uh…and sorry.”

(I am a seventeen-year-old girl working at a pizzeria. A tourist who looks about forty approaches me, looking angry.)

Tourist: “How dare you sell this food in an Italian restaurant!”

Me: “Sir, I’m not entirely sure what you mean.”

Tourist: “This food! Don’t you know that pizza and ice cream are American? How dare you take credit for what we have done! This is ridiculous! I am going to sue you!”

Me: “Sir, that really isn’t necessary. I–”

Tourist: “Don’t you take that tone with me! Stop sounding all professional! It’s annoying!”

Me: “Sorry, sir, you-”

Tourist: “Shut up! This food is American! How dare you be so racist against Americans!

Me: “Sir, I am originally American, so why would I–”

Tourist: “This food is American!”

Me: “Sir, I–”

Tourist: “American!”

Me: “Ask anyone anywhere. Look it up on the Internet, even. I assure you that all this food is Italian.”

Tourist: “The customer is always right!” *storms off*

(I continue to serve customers. 25 minutes later he comes in again.)

Tourist: “Yeah, so I looked it up. Turns out it was Italian. Uh, so, can I have your number?”

This story is part of our Clueless Tourists roundup!

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(While working at a gelato shop in Rome, a tourist approaches me.)

Customer: “Excuse me, miss! I’d like a pizza!”

Me: “We don’t sell pizza here. This is a gelato shop.”

Customer: “What are you talking about? This is Italy! Don’t you have pizza in Italy?”

Me: “Yes, we have pizza in Italy, but this is not a pizzeria, so we don’t sell pizza. There are pizzerias, though, if you look.”

Customer: “So this is Italy?”

Me: “Correct.”

Customer: “And this is a restaurant.”

Me: “Sort of, though we only sell the ice cream.”

Customer: “But this is ITALY.”

(After a few minutes of getting nowhere, my coworker attempts to help.)

Coworker: *jokingly* “Ma’am, if you want pizza, I can get you some for 100 euros.”

(100 euros is about $150 USD. Without hesitation, the customer pulls out two 50s and hands them to my coworker.)

Coworker: *hands the tourist the money back* “It’s okay, ma’am. Let me direct you to a nearby pizzeria…”

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