I play an expansive web-based game that has its own items, pets, and site-based currency, among many other things. There are multiple versions of the same item accessible across the website. Some are just rarer than others, i.e., you can find a “red ball” for cheap in nearly any other store, but a “magical red ball” item is rarer and thus more expensive.

I obtain some rare items and put them in my site shop, pricing them at the lowest they happen to be selling for. I then have this exchange over the messenger.

User: “Hey, I’d like your [item #1]. Can I offer other items for it?”

Me: “Well, I prefer pure [Site Currency], but if the items are on my public wish list, then sure.”

User: “Great! I have [items #2 to #8].”

[Items #2 to #5] are low-value items and not worth the [Site Currency] value of my item. [Items #6 and #7] are of equal value but not on my wish list; I don’t want them. [Item #8], however, is on my wish list and of equal value.

Me: “Well, [item #8] is the only thing that I really want, so I’ll put up a trade in the Trading Post for it.”

User: “But I really don’t want to give up [item #8]. Don’t you want anything else?”

Me: “Nope. [Item #8] is the only item I want.”

User: “But I don’t want to give up [item #8].”

Me: “Then you have to offer me [Site Currency].”

User: “But I don’t have the [Site Currency] to afford it.”

Me: “I guess we can’t do the trade, then.”

User: “Why can’t you just accept something else?”

Me: “Because I don’t want anything else. If you didn’t want to give up [item #8], then why did you suggest it as a possible trade?”

User: *After a long silence* “I was hoping you wouldn’t want it.”

Me: “I’m putting my item back in my shop for [Site Currency]. Good luck getting the item from someone else, then.”

They whined at me some more, but eventually, they gave up when their spiel continued to fail.

Related:
Can They Haggle? No Or No?, Part 3
Can They Haggle? No Or No?, Part 2
Can They Haggle? No Or No?

This was relayed to me by a friend of mine working as a waiter. He works at a restaurant in Rome, Italy, where they cook only Roman cuisine, including the most obscure dishes, like skate (a fish) and broccoli soup or pajata pasta. “Only” is the operative word here: the restaurant doesn’t have a pizza oven and doesn’t serve quite a few other “General Italian Cuisine” staples.

One day, way before the Global Nastiness, a party of four tourists arrives and asks to be seated in accented Italian. After a bit, my friend comes back to them to give the menus, but after a quick scan, one of them closes the menu.

Tourist #1: *In Italian* “Do you have another menu?”

Friend: “Pardon me? What other menu?”

Tourist #1: “A menu with other options, like pizza.”

Friend: “We don’t make pizza here.”

Tourist #1: “What?”

Friend: “We’re a Roman cuisine-only restaurant; we don’t make pizza, which is Neapolitan.”

Tourist #2: *In English* “What kind of f***ed-up restaurant in Italy doesn’t have pizza?! It’s, like, the only thing you eat. That can’t be real. You gotta be saving it up for the locals.”

Tourist #1: “You sure?” *Switching to English* “Do you speak English?”

Friend: “Yes, I do.”

Tourist #1: “Good. So, you’re telling me that you don’t serve pizza in here, only pasta?”

Friend: “Not quite. We do serve something we call ‘pizza’, but it’s more like flatbread. I don’t think—”

Tourist #2: “See? You have that! Gimme some of that pizza! I want it with pepperoni!”

Tourist #1: “Well, if it’s called ‘pizza’, it can’t be all that different from whatever you think it is. Bring us some.”

Tourist #3: “Yeah, why are you being so difficult?”

Friend: “Our pizza has no toppings whatsoever; that is clearly not what you want.”

Tourist #1: “Well, I still want to try, even if it has no toppings.”

Tourist #2: “I’m not eating any of this stuff you have here, that’s for sure! Accommodate me, or I’m not eating!”

My friend, sighing, takes all their orders. Figuring that not putting anything down for [Tourist #2] would end badly, he puts down an order of focaccia and spicy salami to get around his requests.

The order is taken by the kitchen, cooked, and then finally brought to the table. The moment my friend is done placing down the dishes, [Tourist #2] gets red in the face.

Tourist #2: “What is this s***? I didn’t order flatbread and salami. I wanted my pizza, d*** it! I want your manager, now.”

The manager is begrudgingly summoned.

Manager: “Is there a problem?”

Tourist #2: “Yeah, your server refuses to serve us pizza. How can you let somebody who doesn’t bother to know the menu work for you?”

Manager: “Because we don’t have pizza. We are a Roman cooking restaurant; yes carbonara, no pizza or ravioli.”

Tourist #2: “Impossible! If you really don’t want to serve pizza to tourists, then f****** advertise it, d***ebag!” *Gets up* “I’m leaving, mates. I’m going someplace that doesn’t scam tourists like this!”

[Tourist #1] facepalmed as [Tourist #2] picked up his coat and slammed the door shut, causing two nearby wine bottles to fall and shatter. The other three refused to pay for the broken bottles or [Tourist #2]’s tab; they argued about it for half an hour. The whole thing exhausted my friend and the manager so much that they decided to close somewhat early that day, on top of instituting a policy of always telling tourists up front that they didn’t serve any other pizza than Roman “pizza”/focaccia.

I deliver pizzas for a restaurant. Sometimes, I have to set the bag down on the ground. I wish I had three or four arms, but unfortunately, I don’t. For large or heavy orders, it’s pretty much physically impossible for me to not put the bag down.

Today, I deliver to a physical rehabilitation place, and I call the customer to let her know I’m at the front desk. As I’m waiting, I set the bag down on the floor because I have a couple of sodas and I need to get the credit card receipt out and pull out my pen, etc.

As the customer walks up, she says:

Customer: “Do you think setting that on the floor is sanitary?”

Me: “It’s an insulated bag, and the pizza is in a box. I don’t want to drop anything while pulling it out.”

Of course, she stiffed me on the credit card slip, but she probably would’ve stiffed me, anyway; rehab places and nursing homes are notorious for not tipping or tipping poorly.

I’ve heard this now two or three times over the past couple of years, and it’s always inside a nursing home or physical rehab place. Over the thousands of deliveries that I’ve done, we’ve never had a single issue with food poisoning.

Two customers get into a fight and draw their guns on each other when it gets a bit heated. One of them goes off, luckily into the ceiling, and they both run away. This means our fast food place is now a crime scene, so the cops are called and we’ve blocked off the entrance.

A customer approaches.

Me: “Sorry, sir, we’re currently closed.”

Customer: “What happened?”

Me: “There was a gun incident. Luckily, no one was harmed, but we can’t reopen until the police say so.”

Customer: “Did they shoot the food?”

Me: “Uh… no?”

Customer: “Then you have no excuse not to serve me! I want a [combo meal] with Coke, and I want a large for the price of a medium for making me wait.”

My wife and I stop at a local coffee shop and order two coffees and two sandwiches. The barista brings us our coffees, and a moment later, the cook comes from the back and brings my wife her sandwich.

Cook: *To me* “Do you want a fresh pastry or anything?”

Me: “I’m all set, thanks.”

Ten minutes go by, and I realize she asked me about pastries because she probably didn’t realize I had a sandwich coming, too.

Me: *Politely, to the barista* “Is it possible that my sandwich has been forgotten?”

She goes into the back and I hear the cook yelling something like:

Cook: “I asked him if he wanted a sandwich, and he said he didn’t want anything!”

Then, she comes out and approaches us.

Cook: “What sandwich do you want?”

Me: “[Sandwich], please.”

Cook: “You should have told me earlier that you wanted one, too!”

Me: “You asked about pastries, and I thought you were trying to sell me one of those along with the sandwich I had coming.”

Cook: “You still should’ve mentioned it! The system is glitchy sometimes.”

She leaves, and a couple of minutes later, she comes out again.

Cook: *To my wife, rudely* “You need to give your sandwich back as it’s no longer fresh.”

I hear her in the back loudly telling a coworker how she’s so sick of difficult customers. It is so awkward to stand in the front and wait while listening to it.

Then, I hear her say to the barista:

Cook: “The sandwiches are done. Make sure to ask if they need anything else!”

She said those last two words in a loud, snarky tone. I could tell the barista was really uncomfortable as she came out and handed us our food.

I really wish I had said something, but we just left without saying anything. I’m not sure why it was such a big deal. I believe that we were nothing but pleasant. I might’ve seemed annoyed when she came back out to ask about my sandwich, but I wasn’t difficult or anything.

My wife tried to excuse the cook for maybe just having a bad day, but they had just opened like a half-hour prior. We try to support local places, and this was the only local coffee shop in the area at the time, but we won’t ever go back.