Unfiltered Story #190855

, , | Unfiltered | March 26, 2020

I’m working as a waitress in a family restaurant on the beach in New Jersey.

A family comes in with two older women and a large group of kids. The kids are running around the place causing chaos, being ignored by the women.

One of the women asks about a special we offer; two entrees off a certain menu for $30. On the menu, it’s clearly written in large letters: no substitutions.

She asks me to explain the special, so I do, motioning to the area on the menu. She whips her head around and says that she and the sister won’t eat chicken or fish and that’s the only protein on the specials menu. All they eat is beef. Can’t we just cut up two small steaks the size of the chicken breasts or fish in the pictured meals and do the same sides for $30?

I explain the special again and when pressed to explain it in different terms, try to explain that beef is more expensive than the chicken and fish we offer. The sister says she doesn’t understand why we can’t just do it anyway. I explain that I have to order the meals correctly in the automated system and that when they go to pay, if I enter it as fish or chicken, the wrong meal will be prepared and if I enter it as their desired steak, they will be charged the 22.99/each for the NY strip meal they want.
The entire time I’ve remained professional; I’ve been a waitress for five years at the same place and just assume rude people are having a bad day. And I’ve been praised often for remaining collected and calm even when verbally abused.
The sister gets loud and people start staring. She yells that I just keep saying the same thing and not explaining it properly, and keep the same smirk on my face the entire time. (This is the neutral “customer” face that thousands have seen and never commented on. The polite mask.) The first lady says she needs to speak to a manager. I fetch him.
Our manager comes over, apologizes for my behavior, and comps their entire meal. They order the 22.99 steak dinners.
…I cry into my bourbon that evening.

Some People Are Never Satisfied

, , , , , | Working | March 20, 2020

I recently started working in a new distribution company during a time of “transition.” By the time I was here a month, my six-person team was down to three, as everyone else had left, moved, or been hired and fired again. Only one person on the team had been here longer than a couple of months.

While this is normally a forest of red flags, the entire reason for the change was because the “order entry” team was so busy doing everything else they could hardly enter actual orders. Automation was put in to streamline things rather than customizing to match every customer’s unique PO styles. The incoming emails were redirected to the sales reps we usually had to go through anyway. The invoicing had batch processing implemented so we could finalize ten times faster. Everyone was happy.

And then, today, one of the people who left came back in, having gotten a job with one of our clients. She had the smuggest smile known to man and, while her boss and our CEO were schmoozing, came over to see how “miserable” we all were with these “horrible” new changes.

She wasn’t happy when we told her how much easier our jobs were now, even less happy when someone added how all the toxic people were gone, and way less happy when her boss caught her screaming at us for, I guess, proving her crazy expectations wrong with our mere existence?

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Explain About The Wasabi Gingerly

, , , , | Right | March 17, 2020

(A lady orders a bunch of sushi, among Chinese items, for delivery. The amount of sushi she orders entitles her to three cups of wasabi and ginger; each cup is half wasabi, half ginger unless requested otherwise. After receiving her delivery, she calls back:)

Customer: “I only received one cup and want another one.”

Me: “It’s weird that you only got one cup because I know that you should have gotten more; it must have been a mistake when bagging the order. We will send one as soon as the driver who took your order comes back.”

Customer: “How much does the cup cost?”

Me: “They are 50¢, but I am not going to charge you since we didn’t send you the correct amount.”

Customer: “I’ll pay it. What will it be with the delivery charge included?”

(Surprised, I lower the delivery charge to $1. I’m not going to charge her the full standard amount for just a cup of wasabi/ginger, and since she willingly wants to pay it, I still charge something.)

Customer: “I will pay the total amount of $1.50.”

Me: “I apologize for the problems and I wish you a good night.”

(Throughout the entire call, our other driver is standing next to me. I explain briefly what happened and answer another call that is coming in before I walk to the kitchen to inform my boss. The original driver has just gotten back, so the other driver explains that I was on the phone placing the extra wasabi/ginger order and he has to go back; he is pissed. When my boss asks me about it, I tell her what happened.)

Me: “She never received the standard amount.”

Original Driver: “I saw someone from that house leave with some sushi; they must’ve taken one or two of the cups we gave them and the people who called back didn’t know.”

(He was no longer mad when I told him there was a delivery fee — but smaller — and that they were paying for the stuff. If you want to tell someone something, then make sure you tell the truth.)

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In Inattentive Company

, , , , | Working | March 14, 2020

(I work in the invoicing group in my company. Typically, it works smoothly; the warehouse brings us the paperwork, we run the invoice, and, assuming all payments are correct, we give them the okay to ship it. The main issue is that we also sell software download bundles from some of our suppliers. So, instead of running an invoice in about ten seconds, we go through five to ten minutes per order, because every company has a different format and requirements for the downloads so we can’t just use a single generic “HERE’S YOUR CODE” email. Believe me, we’ve tried. However, one of the teams has some… issues getting the process down.)

Manager: “So, guys, who processed order [number]?”

All Of Us: *frantically trying to get to the right part of the program to keep up with her* “Looks like it was [Coworker #1].”

Manager: “Okay, why did you send this email to the customer?”

Coworker #1: “Because that’s what I was told to do!”

Manager: “Yes, you were supposed to send an email, but not this one.”

Coworker #1: “What do you mean? It’s an ESD order.”

Coworker #2: “Yeah, but it’s [Company #1]. You sent a [Company #2] email.”

Coworker #1: “We were told to send those emails out.”

Manager: “You need to send the right email for the right company.”

Coworker #1: “You said we just send these out!”

Me: “I… I went over this with you every day this week. I re-forwarded every email template to you. I specifically told you each time that you needed to match the right email template to the right vendor.”

Coworker #1: “Nooooo, this is the first time I’m hearing about it.”

(What’s more baffling is the fact that she had picked up on every other aspect of the job like a duck to water. But the idea of “more than one template” just escaped her!)

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Name A Worse Customer

, , , , , , | Right | March 13, 2020

(I’ve just opened my register when a customer walks up with some cookies and other items.)

Me: “Hi, how are you? Do you have a [Store] card?”

Customer: “Yes, and some coupons. Hold on.”

(As she goes through her purse, I start ringing up her items.)

Customer: *looking at my name tag* “Your name is [My Name], huh? Funny way of spelling it.”

(My name is not an uncommon Irish name, and it happens to have the most oft-used spelling. I am multiracial, though, with more of my other ancestry prominent than my name would suggest.)

Me: “Ah, yup, that’s my name.”

Customer: “What’s your last name?”

Me: “Oh… Sorry, I don’t give that out.”

Customer: *huffy* “Well, I was only asking.”

(My coworker is signaling me for assistance in her transaction, but I sense that my customer won’t like me walking away from her, so I decide to finish her transaction first. My cashier and her customer, therefore, hear the rest of the increasingly bizarre conversation.)

Customer: “Do you know what my name is?”

Me: “Uh… No, can’t say I do. Sorry?”

Customer: “Oh, you’ll know it. Do you want to know why?”

Me: “Um, okay, sure.”

Customer: *a moment of silence* “That’s why.”

Me: “Sorry?”

Customer: *abruptly* “Where do you want to go?”

Me: “Go? I don’t follow.”

Customer: “What jail would you like to go to?”

Me: “Uh, no jail, actually, thanks?”

Customer: “Oh, well, I was just giving you a choice. Because that is not your name. That cannot be your name. Just you wait; you’ll be hearing from the authorities later today!” *storms out*

(I walk over to my coworker and her customer, a regular.)

Me: “Sorry for the wait.”

Coworker: “What was that?”

Me: “Apparently, my name wasn’t foreign enough for her? Really glad I didn’t give her my last name now!”

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