Unfiltered Story #91937

, , | Unfiltered | August 24, 2017

I used to work at a fast food restaurant while studying in university with the Position of customer service leader. This means I’m second in charge and am also in charge of all customer complaints.

One day after serving a man with a large family meal. Around 25 minutes after he started eating he came up to the counter.
Customer: You gave me wings, I didn’t ask for wings! My meal comes with a bucket of chicken not wings! (Proceeds to show me 2 original recipe wings and the bottom of the bucket with the rest of the bones from the other 10 pieces of eaten chicken)
Me: your meal does come with a bucket of chicken, our original recipe chicken has 5 types of pieces thigh, rib, breast, drumstick and wings.
Customer: but I didn’t ask for wings! (He is beicong really aggressive at this point)
Me: when you order original recipe chicken we have to give you a variety, that includes giving you wings.
Customer( screaming at this point) : do you like wings?
The eintire food court is staring at this point
Me: Yes I do, quite a lot.
Customer: well I don’t! Give me different pieces of chicken now!
Me: I’m sorry you’re upset but there is nothing I can do you got exactly what you asked for, and ate the entirety of the rest of the meal before complaining. We can’t accept the chicken back for health and safety reasons, and we can. It refund a $45 meal after you have eaten if for two wings.
At this point the customer starts to go nuts and starts screaming about service, chickens, swearing and yelling at other customers that are now laughing at him.
The customer then ( still screaming) asks: why do you even sell wings this company is a piece of shit!
At this point I an getting mad, he is screaming at me and customers over something completely ridiculous and his kids are crying at his table. so I decide to give medicine to go home with.
Me: Because chickens have wings and people enjoy eating those wings. That is your explaination. Can you please clam down.
( everyone in line waiting for food erupts in laughter)
The customer stares at me blankly for amount a minute and the asks to see my manger
I get my manger and explain the story about what is happening in front of the customer so that if I said something I rebutted to he could say something.
After telling the story the customer is eagerly waiting on my manger to respond in hopes to get me in trouble.
Manger to customer: so what is it exactly are you needing from me?
Customer: she was flat out rude telling me I couldn’t have a refund or different chicken then tells me that the reason you sell chicken wings is because chickens have wings.
Manger: sir you ordered a bucket of chicken, it comes with a mixed variety of chicken including wings. In relation to the anatomy of chickens, she is correct chickens have two wings. I can’t provide you with a refund or replace your chicken, especially when you have touched it multiple times. She has done nothing wrong. Please remove yourself from my counter and stop screaming (The manger give the customer a stern look and walks away)
Customer: No body likes f****** chicken wings.
Me: I’m sorry you feel that way about wings, most people enjoy them. In fact we have an seperate product called wicked wings that are our most popular item. ( Points to customers meal just placed on counter( 10 wicked wings)) I can’t do anything more for you.
( the customer theories bucket of chicken on floor)
Me: If you do not remove yourself away from my counter I will call security.

The customer lets out a large scream and walks away, everyone waiting in line starts to say things to me such as what an asshole he was and what an idot or his poor kids.

The next customer I served asked for his meal and then added: I can also confirm that chickens do Indeed have wings

That month I was awarded employee of the month and my certificate proceeded to stay int he employee of the month frame for 8 months running.
Every time a complaint would escalate my manger would ask ” another chickens hve wings incident?”

A Sign That They’re A Fool

, , , , | Right | August 22, 2017

(I get a lot of rude customers, and sometimes I just can’t help teaching them little lessons on manners and patience, mainly through over-the-top sarcastic politeness.)

Customer: *on phone* “I came to your shop a little while ago and you were closed. It says on the door you are open until five pm. Why are you closed? It’s very inconvenient and misleading.”

Me: *knowing that I had been at the bank about 15 minutes ago* “How long ago were you here?”

Customer: “About 15 to 20 minutes ago. I had to drive all the way from [Suburb about 20 minutes away] and you were closed. It’s very inconvenient.”

Me: *knowing that I had left a clear sign on the door saying “Gone to bank. back in 15 minutes”* “Was there a sign on the door or anything like that?”

Customer: “There was a sign saying you are open until five pm.”

Me: *knowing that if they saw that sign they HAD to have seen my bank sign* “Was there any other sign there, maybe where the open sign usually is?”

Customer: “Umm, well, there may have been one saying ‘Gone to bank’ or something…”

Me: *yes, you now realise you’re a fool and I’m going to make you admit it* “And did it say when the store would re-open?”

Customer: *amid sighs and grunts* “It said you would be back in 15 minutes.”

Me: *being super perky* “Okay, well that was 15 to 20 minutes ago and I’m back now, so the store has re-opened. We’re open until five pm so please come back any time before then. Have a good day. Good-bye.”

That Is ‘Pretty’ Awesome

, , , , , , | Hopeless | August 15, 2017

(I am a photographer running a studio in the inner city. We are well known for our children’s portraits, and we range from high-end portraits for modelling jobs to fun sibling photos and birth announcements. We do a bit of everything; as such, we are extremely busy, and it states on our website that we do not accept walk-ins. We are usually booked up six months in advance. One day, ten minutes before closing, a mum walks in with a young girl around six or seven behind her. I internally groan.)

Mother: “Hello. I know you’re closing soon, but I have a special favour to ask.”

(At this point the little girl peeks around her mother’s legs and I’m lost for words. Under her thick winter coat and hat, she is skeletally thin with huge dark circles under her eyes. From what I can tell, she has no hair, and a tube taped to her cheek that feeds into her nose. It is immediately clear this kid is very, very sick.)

Mother: *near tears* “My daughter saw one of your photos taped to the wall at the hospital. She REALLY loves unicorns and the photo had a girl photo-shopped onto a horse. I know you’re booked up, and it’s months before the next appointment, but…”

(At this point she actually starts crying. I realise that our next available appointment is probably way too far away for this particular kid. The little girl squeezes her mother’s hand. I am a very big dude, covered in tattoos and a beard, but I’m not ashamed to say I needed a minute before I spoke.)

Me: “Aww, that’s just for regular customers! I’ve been waiting all day to take a photo of someone as beautiful as you! What’s your name, sweetheart?”

(I lock the front door and spend the next three hours taking photos of this kid in every princess costume I have in my closet. She is the sweetest, most well-behaved kid I have ever worked with. Once we’re done she curls up on the couch in my office and falls asleep while I load up the photos for her mum to see and choose the ones she likes best, and ask her what kind of retouching she’d like done. She’s adamant that I leave her daughter as is — apparently the little girl has been worried for the past month that she is no longer “pretty.”)

Me: “All right, so we’ve settled on these. I can have them edited and all finished in two days. If you give me your email I can send you the link to the website and the password to download them when they’re ready.”

(The mother thanks me over and over and comes up front, carrying her sleeping daughter, and holds out her credit card.)

Me: “Nope. No way.”

Mother: “Please, I insist. You stayed open so late and your shoots are listed for [amount] online. Please at least charge me that.

Me: “Absolutely not. I am not taking money for this. No way in h***.”

(A few days later I send the link through and hear nothing. I see she’s downloaded the photos and I think nothing of it, hoping my sweet little friend loved her photos. Almost six months later I’m once again closing up when a very familiar face pops up at my window, grinning and waving frantically.)

Me: *throwing open the door* “Hey, you!”

Little Girl: “Hi! I’m better! Look, I’m better!”

(Sure enough, she’d put on some weight, was flushed and pink, and had a fine fuzz of hair over her head. Her mother was a few steps behind her, grinning. She once again tried to force an envelope full of money into my hand, and again I refused. She got frustrated and eventually in her exasperation said, “at least let us take you to dinner!” which I happily accepted. Seven years later that photo of a sick little girl astride a giant pink unicorn is in a frame in my lounge room. My now-step-daughter groans every time I point it out to the friends she brings home!)

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Imprisoned In The Parent Trap

, , , , | Related | June 18, 2017

(I’ve chosen to take Legal Studies as one of my Year 12 courses. As part of the course, we’re allowed to go to a local prison to meet some of the inmates and hear about their experiences with the criminal justice system. Since the bus to the prison leaves fairly early from school, my dad agrees to drive me to school.)

Dad: “Hey, [Radio Station] is having one of their contests on in five minutes!”

(He calls, and manages to get through to the station.)

Operator: “What are you doing up so early today?”

Dad: “I’m taking my daughter to prison!”

(Thanks, Dad. On the plus side, that particular statement DID get him on the radio.)

Too Late For Puppy Love

, , , , , | Romantic | June 15, 2017

(It’s after midnight and we’re in bed, but the dog is insistent on playing.)

Me: “No, puppy! Stop trying to force your balls under the blanket. They’re gross and it’s sleep time.”

Partner: “I’m so glad it’s you saying that to the dog and not me to you.”

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