My café is on the waterfront, and we get tourists from every country. An English woman comes up to me.
Tourist: “Can I have a cup of tea?”
I show her our selection, but she cuts me off.
Tourist: “No, do you have ‘proper’ tea?”
Me: “Well, for black tea, there’s this Darjeeling—”
She slams her fist on the counter and yells.
Tourist: “NO! A PROPER cuppa tea!”
I work in a high-end department store. As such, customers can be a little… particular. This is fine, though, as we are used to it and can handle it well. One woman comes in and chooses some very expensive sunglasses. This happens as I’m checking her out.
Customer: “And I would like a fresh pair from the back.”
Me: “Of course, ma’am. Let me go check that we have them.”
I go through our stock, but the only extra pair is also out on the shelf. I bring the extra pair to the register in case she likes the condition of these more. But before I can get a word in, she barks at me:
Customer: “I just saw what you did! You just took those off the shelf!”
Me: “I did, ma’am. These are the only two pairs I have left, but we can easily order you a brand new one if you like.”
Customer: *Grumbles* “Fine, order it.”
I cancel the transaction and start an order when she suddenly speaks up again.
Customer: “No. You know what? Cancel everything. I don’t want them. I saw what you did. I won’t take a used pair!”
She stormed off. I assume she thought I was trying to pass the other pair off as the new pair, but she jumped down my throat before I could explain and then didn’t seem to believe me anyway when I did. Some people can never be pleased.
Our pool has a small concession stand that serves very basic foods: nachos, hot dogs, hamburgers, soda, chips, and candy. Customers are allowed to bring their own food into the park for a $5 “cooler fee,” which many are understanding about. One day, a staff member comes to fetch me, as a customer has asked to speak to a supervisor.
Customer: “Your concession stand doesn’t have any food!”
Me: “I’m sorry if they’re not stocked on something you wanted. Were you after something specific?”
Customer: “All they have is hot dogs! I’m [Religion] and can not have pork!”
Me: “They also serve hamburgers, nachos, and a variety of chips and candy. We’re not a restaurant, so most people know that we don’t sell a large variety of hot foods.”
Customer: “Well, since you don’t have anything my kids and I can eat, I want to have a pizza delivered.”
Me: “That’s fine! It will be a $5 fee for outside food, though.”
The customer argues that because “we don’t have any food,” he shouldn’t have to pay a fee. He repeatedly mentions his religion and that we are “not respecting his religious right to not eat pork,” even though we have other food he could eat. Finally, because we are busy and I have a long list of tasks to get back to, I relent.
Me: “All right, sir. Since our concession stock has been a bit low the past couple of days, I can waive the fee this time. But in the future, please remember that we are not a restaurant and we do not guarantee the availability of any particular kinds of food, so you should plan ahead.”
Customer: “Hmph. You should learn to respect other people’s religions. Not everyone can eat pork!”
His pizza arrived about thirty minutes later. It was covered in pepperoni.
Related:
Someone Is Telling Porkies
It’s a wet, windy Saturday night in December and we decide to order two pizzas from our regular place half a mile away. We are told it will be with us within forty-five minutes. An hour and a quarter later, I call to inquire where the pizzas are.
Employee: “It’ll be at least another forty-five minutes. We’re really busy and we only have one driver on a moped. We’re getting concerned about going out anymore because it is getting windier and windier.”
I wonder why they didn’t plan for this and employ more than one person — maybe someone with a car — on one of the busiest nights of the week. Oh, well. We’ll sit and wait.
One hour later, the pizzas still haven’t arrived, so I call the store again. This time, the manager answers. I can hear phones ringing constantly in the background; obviously, everyone else is calling to see where their pizzas are!
Manager: *Frazzled* “If you want your pizzas now, you can come and collect them. They’re already out of the oven and just waiting on the side.”
I reluctantly agree and walk the half-mile in the wind and rain storm to collect my partially cold pizzas. The manager tells me that he will put a note on my account so I will get a free pizza next time. I reheat the cold pizzas in my oven at home, and finally, about three hours after ordering, we get to eat the pizzas!
On the receipt is a “How did we do?” survey offering loyalty points and a competition entry. I fill it in, saying how service was disappointing this time, which is a shame as it is usually great, and send it off. Nothing horrible, just honest.
Two weeks later, we decide to redeem the offer of free pizza and order from the store again. The employee I speak to sounds confused at a note he is reading on the system and puts me onto the manager.
Manager: “How could you have the nerve to call up again and demand free pizza?!”
Me: “You offered us the free pizza after our long wait last time.”
Manager: “Well, since you gave us a bad review, I’ve changed my mind!” *Laughs* “You don’t get anything. Those surveys aren’t anonymous. They get sent to the area manager, and the area manager berated me about that night’s bad results!”
Me: “So, because I filled in the survey and you didn’t like it, you feel that you need to punish me? Even though I’ve been a regular customer and spent over £400 in your store in the last four years I’ve lived here? You’re willing to lose a customer over this?”
Manager: “Yes, and I don’t care. You’re not going to get free pizza from me.”
Me: “Okay, I’ll just go to [Competitor Pizza] from now on. Goodbye.”
Upon putting the phone down, I went online and gave them a scathingly bad — but honest! — public review. And, true to my word, I have never ordered pizza from them again.
I’m a teenager walking my dog, and I pass [Man #1], who is black, washing a Mercedes and an Audi, and [Man #2], who is white, smoking. I turn then and see what appears to be moving trucks, and I choose to go see if the new neighbors are there to introduce myself. As I do so, a car pulls up near the house and a woman gets out.
Me: “Hi! Are you moving in?”
Woman: “Hi! Yes, I just came to check on the person moving out and check on the house.”
Me: “Oh, that’s cool. Well, I’ll see you around, then!”
My dog and I do our rounds through the neighborhood and come back. I see the two men again, and the new woman. The woman spots [Man #2].
Woman: “Is smoking allowed in this neighborhood?”
Man #2: “Yes, safely on your own property.”
The woman scoffs and then turns and sees [Man #1] washing his cars. I have begun walking away at this point when I hear a screech. I turn around in terror to see the woman screaming at [Man #1].
Woman: “WHO DID YOU STEAL THOSE FROM?”
Man #1: “Nobody. I bought these with my own money.”
Woman: “NO, YOU DIDN’T! PEOPLE LIKE YOU CAN’T AFFORD THOSE CARS!”
Me: “Yes, he did. I see him washing them every day!”
Woman: “SHUT UP! YOU’RE TOO YOUNG AND NAIVE TO UNDERSTAND”
Me: “Ma’am—”
Man #2: *Cutting me off* “Would you like to call the police?”
Woman: “YES!”
I was confused, but the two men exchanged a look with each other, and I realized something was up, so I kept quiet. The cops showed up and they asked for documents and security footage, which [Man #1] happily handed over. [Man #2] even had his own security footage.
The shock on the woman’s face when she was proven wrong was priceless.
