A customer walks up to my seafood counter.
Customer: “I’d like half a dozen of these shrimp.”
The customer points to the smallest cooked shrimp that we sell. I look at her briefly, to make sure she isn’t joking. I take six shrimp from the pile and weigh them on the scale.
Customer: “That’s half a dozen?!”
Me: “Yes, ma’am. Six is half of twelve.”
Customer: “I meant half a pound.”
I’m putting clothes away in the women’s department of our discount store when a friendly-looking customer comes up to me.
Customer: “Hello. Can you show me where your Ed Hardy shirts are?”
Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but Ed Hardy shirts are very popular lately. We receive shipments on Tuesday and I think we are already sold out. You can try looking in the clearance section, though. There might be a few left.”
The customer smiles genuinely.
Customer: “Okay, thank you.”
She walks away towards the clearance section. About three hours pass.
I’m now working behind the check-out counter, organizing clothes there. The Ed Hardy customer is having an unhappy discussion with my manager, who is also behind the counter.
Customer: “Your employee hid all the Ed Hardy shirts for her friend.”
The Ed Hardy customer spots me looking at her.
Customer: “Don’t look at me like you don’t know what I’m talking about! There are cameras everywhere! They’ll show you what I’m talking about.”
The customer stomped away. No one I knew had entered the store that day. I was thinking to myself, “Yes, let’s check the cameras to find out how much of a liar I am.”
Related:
Shirty With The Truth
I am working at an event that starts in thirty minutes. My husband has just let me know he can’t bring me lunch like he was planning — the baby’s nap ran long — so I run to the nearest fast food place and rush through the drive-thru.
Me: “Can I get a chicken sandwich combo with American cheese instead of Swiss? With a [drink]. And can I also get a large diet [drink]?”
Employee #1: “Sure. That will be [price]. Please pull forward.”
I do so.
Employee #2: “[Price], please. The food will be right out!”
[Employee #2] walks away. So, I wait. Five minutes in, [Employee #1] finally walks over to the window, pours my drinks, and walks back to the floor without giving them to me. She and [Employee #2] send out several in-store orders and stand around a while.
Meanwhile, I’m getting panicky about being back to my event. Finally, [Employee #1] walks to the window with a bag of food. It’s probably been over ten minutes.
Employee #1: “You had the double cheeseburger, right?”
Me: “No… I ordered the chicken sandwich.”
[Employee #1] wordlessly walks away, bag in hand. Meanwhile, I’m thinking I’ll have no choice but to drive away without the food I’ve already paid for when she comes back with a new bag.
Employee #1: “Here you go. Have a nice day.”
Me: “Um… can I have the drinks I ordered?”
Employee #1: *Snippy* “Well, I didn’t know they were yours! I just walked over here!”
Me: “So, you took my order and poured the drinks, but didn’t know they were mine?”
The employee had no response. The kicker: I finally got back to my event with about ten minutes to scarf down my food… and the order was still wrong.
I come from a large family, and we don’t get together very often. A table-full of us are gathered at a nephew’s wedding.
[Brother #4], who is not present, as it happens, is famous — notorious, actually — in our extended clan for being an adrenaline junkie with poor decision-making skills.
Seriously — about twenty years ago, as a result of a miscalculation on a bungee jump, he was featured on an episode of the Discovery Channel show called “Real Life Medical Miracles.” For his fortieth birthday, he told his wife he wanted to try cage boxing.
One of us is telling a long and complicated story about him, three dogs, and a skunk, and a niece is shaking her head in disbelief.
Me: “It’s true. You know that little voice that we all have in the back of our brains? The one that tells you not to do dumb stuff like stick a fork in the wall socket?”
Niece: “Are you saying Uncle [Brother #4] doesn’t listen to his little voice?”
Me: “I’m saying his little voice was dropped on its head as a child.”
I work at a Mexican restaurant. A family of four comes in and I take their orders.
Customer: “I would like this—”
The customer points to a menu item.
Customer: “—but I don’t want mushrooms. I am very allergic to mushrooms, so please make sure the cooks know.”
Me: “All righty, ma’am. No problem.”
I take her daughter’s order, but as the daughter is ordering, her mom cuts in.
Customer: “Make sure my daughter’s food doesn’t have mushrooms, either. We don’t know if she is allergic like me, but we don’t want to take the chance.”
Me: “Okay, not a problem!”
The dad and son order, and I proceed to put their order into the computer. I make sure to let the cooks know that they do not want any mushrooms. After the food is done, I carry it out to my table.
Me: “Does everything look okay? Can I get you all anything else right now?”
Customer: “What is this?”
Me: “The chicken you ordered. Is there a problem?”
Customer: “These are mushrooms! I can’t eat this! I am deathly allergic to mushrooms!”
I’m just thinking to myself, “If you are THAT deathly allergic to mushrooms, why would you order one of the only things on the menu that has mushrooms?!”
Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, and I apologize. I will have them make you a new plate as soon as possible!”
I turn to her daughter.
Me: “Are there mushrooms on your plate?”
Daughter: “No, I don’t think so.”
Mom: “Well, it looks like there are mushrooms on hers!”
Me: “ I can have the cooks make a new plate for her, too, if you want.”
Daughter: “No, it’s fine.”
Me: “Okay. Well, ma’am, I will have your new plate out shortly.”
Customer: “Okay, thanks.”
I know that the plate doesn’t have any mushrooms on it, but “the customer is always right,” so I have the cooks make her a new plate. I bring out the new plate and set it down.
Me: “Here you are, ma’am. Enjoy!”
Customer: “Wait.” *Poking her food* “What is this? This looks like a mushroom! I am allergic to mushrooms! Don’t you get it?! I could die!”
Their son, age four, is jumping up and down in the booth.
Customer’s Son: “MOMMY’S GONNA DIE! MOMMY’S GONNA DIE!”
Customer: “SHUT UP! IT’S NOT FUNNY! I COULD DIE!”
The customer proceeds to pick up the “mushroom” with her fork and shoves it in my face.
Customer: “Does this look like a mushroom to you?”
Me: “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but that is an onion. It’s just a burnt onion. From the grill. I made sure that there were no mushrooms on this plate.”
Customer: “So, you’re telling me that this isn’t a mushroom?!”
She continues to push the fork closer to my face.
Customer: “Are you telling me that I’m wrong?!”
Me: “Ma’am, I can assure you that it is not a mushroom. It’s a burnt onion.”
Customer: “Let me speak with your manager.”
I go and get my manager, and my manager goes over to my table. The customer tells my manager that I put mushrooms in her food knowing that she was allergic, and then proceeds to stick the fork in my manager’s face!
Manager: “Ma’am, I am sorry. We will make you a new plate. Everything will be cooked in separate pans, and we will make it to-go!”
The customer was very upset with me and left me no tip.
