These Guys Are The Wurst Virgins

, , , , , | Right | June 18, 2020

I work at a German-style beer hall with a pretty authentic Biergarten. Very early one evening, a group of guys in their twenties come into our Biergarten and sit down. They are lively and already a bit drunk. It soon becomes clear that they are a stag night group.

Male Coworker: *Sighing* “Well, any of you ladies want to switch sections with me? I doubt the bachelors will be thrilled to have a male server, and I am sure it will guarantee you all a good tip.”

Even though I am not a fan of bachelor groups, I volunteer since my section is still empty. I get them their beer orders and hand them some menus. A lot of the names of the dishes are authentic or near-authentic German dish names, which make them difficult for some to pronounce. I am a proficient German speaker, so I pronounce the dish names correctly.

Me: “So, gents, can I get you anything to eat?”

Drunk Patron #1: “I’ll have the Wiener Schnitzel.”

Drunk Patron #2: “Um, uh, what’s the Wasyoumacallit?”

I lean over to see where he is pointing.

Me: “Oh, the Würstlteller? It’s a platter with three different kinds of wurst—”

Drunk Patron #2: “Virgin Teller? Oh, my God, I will definitely have the Virgin Teller!”

Me: “Are you sure? Not everyone likes wurst—”

Drunk Patron #2: “Yes, yes, I want the Virgin Teller!”

He shouts to his friend across the table.

Drunk Patron #2: “Hey, buddy! Get the Virgin Teller!”

Drunk Patron #3: “I want the Virgin Teller, too!”

Drunk Patron #4: “I’ll have the Virgin Teller!”

Eight out of the ten guys at the table all order the same dish, barely reading the description and just going off on the mispronounced name of the dish. Part of me wants to speak more reason to them since most of our patrons typically end up not liking the wurst, but it is our second-most-expensive dish, so I figure that I can earn a better tip off of their drunken misunderstanding. 

When their meal comes out, another coworker and I put the dishes in front of the patrons. Most of them look confused about their meals.

Drunk Patron #3: *Looking disappointed* “I didn’t order this, did I?”

Me: “Yes, it’s the Virgin Teller. Enjoy!”

And yes, I did get an amazing tip from the whole fiasco.

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They Need A Word Filter

, , , , | Right | June 15, 2020

I live in a state that has a rather unique dialect which can lead to confusion.

Customer: “Excuse me, miss, do you carry Briters?”

Me: “I’m sorry, what was that again?”

Customer: “Briters.”

Me: “I’ve never heard of that before. Could you describe what a briter is so I can point you in the right direction?”

Customer: “You know, Briter water filters, for purifying tap water.” 

Me:Oh! You want Brita water filters.”

Customer: “Yes, that’s what I said.”

Me: “Right this way.”

Customer: “You’re not from around here, are you?”

Me: “Actually, ma’am, I was born and raised in this state.”

Customer: “That’s impossible! You don’t talk like you’re from around here at all! You have to be from outta state!”

Me: “I can assure you, ma’am, I’ve lived in this state my entire life.”

Customer: “That’s not possible!”

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Customer Service Can Provide Some Near-Death Experiences

, , , , , , | Right | June 15, 2020

A customer places a houseplant on the checkout counter. It is a lovely dwarf jade with purple stems and light green foliage with yellow edges. I smile and start ringing his order when the customer says:

Customer: “I don’t suppose you offer any ‘Approaching Death’ discounts?”

No one has ever asked me that before and I am not really sure what he means. At first, I’m thinking that this poor man is inflicted with some kind of fatal illness. Realizing that this is a weird discount to ask for, my next conclusion is that he is using a funny way of asking for a SENIOR discount. The man only appears to be in his late thirties so that doesn’t really seem right either.

After an awkward amount of silence and solid eye contact, I finally say:

Me: “Um… well… we do have a senior discount… if that is what you are asking.”

Now the customer looks confused, and we share another few awkward moments of silence before he bursts out laughing and points at the jade and says:

Customer: “The plant! The plant is approaching death! Not me!”

I, too, burst out laughing and explain that the purple stems and yellow edges on the plant are, in fact, natural, and that the plant is healthy.

Me: “So, unfortunately, no, we cannot offer any ‘Approaching Death’ discounts at this time.”

This story has been included in our June 2020 roundup as one of that month’s most memorable stories!

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Romancing The Remembrance

, , , | Right | June 12, 2020

A customer approaches the perfume counter while looking at her phone.

Me: “Excuse me, ma’am, do you need help with the fragrances?”

Customer: “Yeah, I need to smell ‘Remembrance.'”

I am fairly familiar with our perfumes and I don’t recognize the name.

Me: “Sorry, ma’am, did you know whose perfume it is?”

Customer: “’Remembrance’!”

The customer suddenly answers her phone. I search everywhere for it, trying not to interrupt her phone call.

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am. Once more, could you tell me who the perfume is by?”

Customer: “Ugh, I told you! It’s ‘Remembrance!'”

Me: “Yes, ma’am, but whose perfume is it?”

Customer: “Oh, Ralph Lauren.”

I look through our Ralph Lauren perfumes.

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but it looks like we only have the Polo collection and ‘Romance.'”

Customer: “Yeah, it’s that one!”

Me: “Oh, sorry about that. I thought you said, ‘Remembrance.'”

Customer: “No, I said, ‘Romance.'”

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Við Tölum Ensku!

, , , | Right | June 9, 2020

I work in a cafeteria at a busy tourist place. All kinds of nationalities visit, and even if most of them speak good, okay, or bad English, we almost always manage to get them what they want.

There are two men in their mid-twenties standing a bit from us, talking in low voices together for a while, before one of them comes towards the counter, seemingly to order something. Before I manage to say anything, he starts speaking in a British accent, with a very sorry face.

Tourist: “I’m sorry, but I don’t speak Icelandic.”

I am totally dumbfounded for a second.

Me: “T— That’s okay. I speak English. In fact, almost everyone in this country speaks and understands English very well.”

He still looked sorry, as if it was his fault that he didn’t speak Icelandic, but he and his friend got their questions answered and orders made without any problems.

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