Pizza Parlor Tricks

, , , , , | Right | November 22, 2017

(It’s fairly late in the evening, just a couple hours before close, when a guy walks in and I go up to the counter to help him. He kind of mumbles and talks really fast at some points, but otherwise nothing really seems off.)

Me: “Welcome to [Pizza Shop]. What can I do for you?”

Customer: “Hey, I need to pick up some pizzas.”

Me: “Okay.” *starts looking for his order in the computer, but none pop up as awaiting payment* “Have they already been paid for?”

Customer: “Yeah, we paid for ’em yesterday, but we never came and picked ’em up.”

(It’s already weird that someone would order pizza and then come in to try and pick it up the next day, but I figure it’s not a big deal to simply retake his order. Carryout orders get canceled or simply never get picked up for various reasons all the time; if something has been sitting on our heating racks for more than two or three hours, we always cancel the order and just eat it ourselves, since we would have to remake it if they eventually showed up, anyway. Usually this just happens when someone calls ahead or orders online, so if they have already paid for it, it was on a card, and the transaction is canceled, and if they chose cash, we haven’t received it yet, so everything works out.)

Me: “You ordered them yesterday? So, you want to replace the order right now, then?”

Customer: “Yeah, unless you’ve still got them around, but I kind of doubt that.”

Me: “No, I’m sure that we don’t. What did you have?”

(He orders two pizzas using a special that makes them almost half price, and for the second one he has to call someone to get the toppings. While he is on the phone, I call over the manager in charge, an assistant manager, to ask if we can access yesterday’s orders in case I need to prove to him that his previous transaction was voided. He says only the general manager can access that information, but he stays near the counter anyway. The guy comes back and orders his second pizza.)

Me: “All right, your total is $19.02, and I know you said it was paid for yesterday, but don’t worry; we would have canceled the order and the payment, so we’ll just take a new one right now.”

Customer: “But we paid cash.”

Me: “Oh. You paid cash? In the store? And then left, even though we would most likely have quoted you like ten minutes?”

Customer: “Yeah! I had a receipt. I would have brought it, but I don’t have it, unfortunately.”

Me: “Uhh…” *to manager* “Do you know if we were over, like, 19 bucks last night?”

Manager: *to me* “We definitely weren’t. I closed last night.” *to the guy* “Do you remember what time you came in?”

Customer: “Sometime between two and six.”

([Manager] and I look at each other, as that’s not much more helpful than saying he was here yesterday at some point while we were open.)

Customer: “I can call the manager guy! The one who was here yesterday! I can talk to him!”

Manager: “I was here last night. I don’t remember an order like this sitting around. I’m sorry, but if you don’t have a receipt, there’s not really anything we can do.”

Me: “You could pay for it with a card today, and when the GM comes in tomorrow, if we can find your previous order paid in our system, we can cancel the card transaction.”

Customer: “I only have cash, and only… $11! Can you at least make on of the pizzas?”

(Individually, without the special, his pizzas are about $14 or $15 each.)

Manager: “Sorry, but I can’t.”

Customer: “Darn. Okay, I need to go get some more cash; I’ll be right back.” *walks out*

Manager: “That was sketchy. Who pays cash for something and then leaves without it and forgets about it until the next day? Something tells me he’s not coming back.”

(He didn’t.)

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The Crab-Cake Is A Lie

, , , | Right | November 21, 2017

(I work as a seafood clerk at a grocery store. One day we are having a special on crab cakes so we are particularly busy. After helping more than ten people in a row, there are two customers left: an elderly woman, and a man in his mid-30s with his daughter who is no older than six. Due to the rush, I am not sure who is next.)

Me: “I can help whoever was next.”

(The woman glances over at the man, who is texting and paying no attention to me. She shrugs and approaches the counter.)

Customer #1: “Yes, I’ll have two crab cakes and one pound of popcorn shrimp, please.”

Me: “Coming right up.”

(As soon as I begin wrapping up her order, the man looks up from his cell phone.)

Customer #2: “Hey! Woah! Excuse me! I was next!”

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry, sir. I’ll be with you as soon as I finish this order.”

Customer #2: “No, no, no! I was here first! Stop what you’re doing and take my order!”

Me: “Sir, I asked who was next and you didn’t respond. This will only take…”

Customer #2: *picks up his cart and slams it on the ground* “THIS IS BULLS***! I’ve been waiting here for twenty f****** minutes! I’m going to the front and speaking to management!”

(He grabs his daughter by the wrist and walks toward the front of the store.)

Customer #1: “Oh, my goodness.. He really shouldn’t be talking like that in front of his daughter.”

Me: “No, he shouldn’t be.”

(After about ten minutes, he returns.)

Customer #2: “I just spoke to your boss. He said you have to give me four free crab cakes due to your poor customer service.”

Me: *skeptical* “Okay… let me call the front and confirm.”

Customer #2: “What? Why? I just talked to him!”

Me: “Sir, I have to get permission from my supervisor before I can give out free items.”

Customer #2: “YOU’RE UN-F****ING-BELIEVABLE! You have to be the worst—”

(I tune out his screaming and call the front desk phone.)

Boss: “[Boss] speaking.”

Me: “Hello, sir, there’s a gentleman here that says you told him he could have free crab cakes; is that correct?”

Boss: “What? H*** no! I just got back from my lunch break.”

(I turned around and the man was nowhere to be seen.)

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Your Attempt At Free Food In Freefall

, , , , , | Right | November 18, 2017

(I’m working as a pizza delivery driver on a particularly busy night. I’m driving my mom’s minivan for work. On this run, I have to take three deliveries due to the volume of orders. I arrive at my third destination beyond the estimated time.)

Disgruntled Customer: “Well, this pizza’s pretty late. Don’t you think I should get it for free now?”

Me: “I’m not su—”

Disgruntled Customer: *in a voice a five-year-old would use to mock someone* “Ehehehe, I’m not sure.”

Me: “Well, sir, I’m not authorized to give out the food for free, so if you’d like to discuss it, I will need you to sign the receipt, and then you can talk with the general manager on the matter.”

Disgruntled Customer: “Yeah, I’ll do that. What took you so long, anyway?”

Me: “We are busy right now, so I had to take three deliveries at once, and yours just happened to be the last in the lineup.”

Disgruntled Customer: “I would think a delivery boy could come up with a better excuse than that. I’m giving you a tip, but I don’t know why, anyway.” *shoves the receipt in my face*

Me: “Thank you, sir. I do appreciate it.”

Disgruntled Customer: *slams door*

(I return to the restaurant and inform my GM that the man was upset and will be calling in to discuss getting a free meal, when my shift leader chimes in.)

Shift Leader: “Was it the guy from [address]?”

Me: “Yeah, that’s him.”

Shift Leader: “That guy’s always trying to get free food from us. He wanted his wings for free because we didn’t give him exactly even wings and drumsticks with his chicken.”

(Apparently, the guy would come up with excuses anytime he ordered to try and get his food for free. Since that instance though, I haven’t heard from him.)

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Bigotry Doesn’t Have A Nice Ring To It

, , , , , , , | Working | November 16, 2017

(We are a gay couple. My husband gave me a ring for my birthday. It apparently cost a lot, but after only a day of wearing it I notice my skin going green, a classic sign that the metal is cheap. My husband can’t explain it, but gives me the receipt to exchange it. I am seen by the store owner.)

Me: “Yes, I’d like to return this ring. My husband was told it was pure metal, but my finger tells me otherwise.”

(The owner takes the receipt and inspects the ring. I can tell there’s something wrong by his expression.)

Owner: “This ring doesn’t match the description. Are you sure he got it from here?”

Me: “I’m 100% certain. Your store name is embossed on the rim.”

Owner: “Yes, I can see. Give me a moment, please.”

(He disappears for about quarter of an hour and returns with a ledger.)

Owner: “Yes, your husband’s name is here with the same description on the receipt. I’ve checked the footage for the time and he was indeed sold this ring. However, this ring is worth a significant fraction of the price.”

Me: “What can you do, then?”

Owner: “Give me another moment, please. I want to be certain this is straightened out. [Worker] is in today; she served your husband.”

(The owner calls her over.)

Owner: “[Worker], did you sell this ring in exchange of [expensive ring] to a gentleman two weeks ago?”

Worker: “I don’t know. I’ve never see him before though.” *nods to me*

Me: “He has shoulder length black hair and a nose ring.”

Worker: “Oh, the [homophobic slur]. Yes, I did.”

(Both the owner and I wince at the word.)

Owner: “[Worker]! Why would you do such a thing?”

Worker: “Because marriage is between a man and a woman. Their [slur] marriage is fake and cheap, so that’s all they deserve!”

(I’m actually stunned at how blunt the woman is. The owner addresses me.)

Owner: “I am so sorry for this. My store does not discriminate under any circumstances, and I assure you this matter will be dealt with, with extreme severity.” *to the worker* “Go to my office. We’ll talk later.” *back to me* “The original cost your husband paid was [amount], but given the circumstances, I would like to offer you a choice of anything in store, as compensation.”

Me: “Well… No, thank you. I’ll be more than happy with a ring at equivalent price.”

Owner: “Then, perhaps a paired ring to go with whatever you choose?”

(I picked out two rings and headed home with them. My husband was more than a little shocked with what happened, but we were both happy with the compromise. The woman was fired from the jewellery store, but she now works in a café across town. We don’t go in.)

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Wines And Dines On Your Dimes

, , , , , , | Working | November 16, 2017

(My wife and I are having dinner at a restaurant. While we both order at the same time, my wife receives her food while I receive nothing. We continually call our waitress down to find out what is happening, and she insists it is being taken care of. Because I don’t want my wife to wait, I let her finish. After an hour and a half, our waitress comes with our bill.)

Waitress: “I hope you have enjoyed your meal.” *walking away*

Me: “Hold on.” *looking at the bill and seeing my order and a substantial tip* “Where is my order?”

Waitress: “Your order? Well, surely you’ve eaten it.”

Wife: “No, he hasn’t.”

Waitress: “I distinctly remember bringing it out to you. If you could just please pay the bill at the front, thank you.”

Me: “I’m sorry, no. Could I please see the manager?”

(The waitress brings the manager and I explain the situation.)

Manager: “Well, this is the most ridiculous scam I’ve ever heard. Do you seriously expect me to believe it?”

Me: “Does it look like I’ve eaten?” *gesturing to my side of the table, which has been left virtually untouched since it was laid out* “I haven’t even been given my wine!”

Manager: “Well, it certainly does. Please excuse me for a moment.”

(The manager goes into the kitchen and I hear a loud clattering of pans and someone screaming, “WHAT, AGAIN?” The door bursts open, and a large man storms up to me. I’m secretly praying for my life, as I’m expecting to him to send me to Hell, but as he approaches the table he turns and faces our waitress.)

Chef: “All right, what did you do with it?”

Waitress: *blushing* “I don’t know what you mean!”

Chef: “Really?” *sniffs at her mouth* “You stink of merlot.”

(That’s the wine I ordered. Our waitress covers her mouth while the chef walks to the waiting station and starts tearing it apart. He comes back with a plate of a partially-consumed meal.)

Chef: “Sir, could I please ask what you ordered?”

(I show him the receipt.)

Chef: *to the waitress* “I don’t know who you think you are, but this is unacceptable. You’re fired.”

Waitress: “YOU CAN’T FIRE ME! MY DADDY’S THE MANAGER!”

Chef: “Really? Well, let me introduce you to the owner: me. You–” *to another waiter* “–take this gentleman’s order again, and everything is free of charge. I’ll get ‘daddy’ to take her home.”

(Our entire meal was free, and although I didn’t eat in the restaurant, we were given it to go. The restaurant lost two staff that night: the manager and his daughter. We were offered free meals there in the future, but sadly, we moved out of the city a couple of months later and never ate there again. This was the first and last time something like this had ever happened to us.)

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