Not Just Eyeing The Menu

, , , | Right | January 31, 2020

(I’m working the registers at a Chinese restaurant while also preparing bags for takeout orders in between customers. Because I’m a fairly tall girl, and the place is set up for the stereotypical short Chinese family who owns it, I have to bend down a lot. My shirt is a somewhat loose T-shirt with a very slight V-neck; in other words, it’s fairly modest, but not perfectly so. A customer has been waiting around for his food to be ready and has lurked near the front, looking at me the whole time. After about five minutes, his food is ready.)

Me: “That will be [total]. Have a nice day, sir.”

Customer: “You, too.” *waves me in closer and whispers to me* “By the way, I’m putting a dollar in the tip jar because I was staring down your shirt the whole time.”

(I was too stunned that he felt the need to tell me this to respond. Best/worst part is, I don’t even get to keep the tip money!)

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Too Dumb To Leave The Country

, , , | Right | January 30, 2020

(I work for a US-based company that specifically caters to Canadians; this means that all of our customers have to cross the US/Canada border. A man comes in one day to pick up his packages, and as per policy, I ask to see his photo ID.)

Customer: “I don’t have any ID.” *searches through wallet* “Will a debit card work?”

Me: “Um, no, sir, I need something with your photo.”

Customer: “Well, I don’t have any ID, so I guess this means I can’t pick up today.”

Me: “If I may ask, sir, how did you cross the border?”

Customer: *lightbulb goes on* “OH! I can get you my passport; it’s in the car!” *runs to get it*

Coworker: “You have to hold their hands, [My Name]. You have to hold their hands.”

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From FedEx To FedUp

, , , , | Right | January 29, 2020

(My workplace is one of those businesses that allows Canadians to order stuff, have it shipped to us, and then come pick it up. We deal with a lot of packages every day, but this Black Friday/Cyber Monday broke our systems; the office is a sea of packages and everyone is working nonstop to handle the load. A man comes in to pick up, so I put my other tasks on hold to wait on him. I look in his file and see that he has fifteen packages currently processed and stored. Normally, we’d ask our customers — especially anyone expecting a lot of things — to notify us when they’re coming so we can be ready, but okay: all stations are behind, so maybe he did notify and we just couldn’t get to his stuff in time. I slog through the piles of boxes to find his items, some of which are tiny and hard to find, but I manage. When I count his items out to him, he tells me he’s expecting one more thing.)

Me: “Was it something coming in today? Because, for the rest of the season, we won’t be able to do same-day pickups; if it comes in today, you’ll have to come back tomorrow.”

Customer: “No, no, it was from last week.”

(His records show fifteen, and he has fifteen parcels on the counter.)

Me: “Do you have a tracking number?”

(We sort all parcels by the name of the addressee, but since shippers sometimes botch the task of writing someone’s name, we sometimes have to look up the tracking number and follow the paper trail.)

Customer: “No, no tracking number! Just go find it!”

Me: “Sir, if it had your name on it, it would be in this stack–” *waves files* “–and if it was in this stack, it would be in this pile.” *points at packages on counter* “If it does not have your name on it, then the only way I can find it is with the tracking number!”

Customer: “No tracking number! Just go find it!”

Me: *considers the giant sea of packages behind me for precisely 0.5 seconds* “I can’t.”

Customer: “No? Should I call [Boss]?”

Me: “If you think she can help you better than I can, then sure. But I can’t do anything without a tracking number.”

Customer: “Fine! Also, one more package; today’s FedEx.”

(FedEx only dropped off their load a few minutes ago. Under normal circumstances, we would need about an hour or so to make sure everything was counted and entered into the system, but today: no. It isn’t going to happen, and there is nothing I can do to make it happen, and I explain as much. He finally leaves, and I spend the rest of the day thinking that if he were any more of a butt, he could crap through both ears. But then later, he comes back, and lo, the crap: the records note that he shipped something out through us. I mentioned this offhand while sorting through his list of items to be picked up. Now:)

Customer: “I want my outgoing!”

Me: “Pardon?”

Customer: “My outgoing! I will take it to UPS!”

(I figured he was being petty because of the earlier snafu, but whatever. He keeps money on account with us, meaning he had technically already paid his shipping costs, so my boss would have to go in and adjust his balance after this. In the meantime, I went to where our outgoing packages were stored and was confronted with another massive stack of boxes in various shapes and sizes. My work was falling further and further behind with every moment spent sifting through them, but sift I did, and consoled myself by taking this opportunity to at least sort the out-bound FedEx onto a cart for that night’s pickup. Finally, a coworker came up and asked what I was doing, so I explained and showed him the invoice. When I did, it came up that the date on the invoice was from a few days ago, meaning that the package was already long gone. I explained this to the customer, who finally left. But at least that fellow can hold his head high, knowing that he personally disproves every last stereotype about Canadians. “Always polite,” my foot!)

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Discovered The Code That Shuts Them Up

, , , , | Right | January 28, 2020

(It’s my last day at a retail job in a women’s clothing store chain. The customer in front of me has always been unpleasant to his wife and the staff. The store credit card is in his name, not his wife’s, and he always shops with her to tell her what she can and cannot buy. He also comes into the store once a month to pay the credit card bill. Every single time, he complains about the chip reader not working yet.)

Me: “Are you paying cash, check, or debit?”

Customer: “I always pay by card.”

Me: “Please swipe your debit card now.”

(The customer removes the sign advising that the chip reader is not functional and inserts his card into the non-working chip reader.)

Customer: “The chip reader isn’t working. Why isn’t the chip reader working?”

Me: “The system isn’t updated yet. Please swipe your card, instead.”

Customer: *now really angry* “Why the h*** isn’t the chip reader working yet? What the h*** is taking so long?”

Me: “Sir, do you think that if I had the ability to write the code that would allow the point of sale system in this store read your chip in that machine that I would be standing here taking your payment?”

Customer: *suddenly subdued* “No.”

Me: “Then are you going to pay or not?”

(The customer mutely removes his card from the chip reader and swipes it. He doesn’t say a word the rest of his transaction.)

Me: “Here’s your receipt for the payment. Have a nice evening.”

(The store assistant manager has been standing next to me the whole time. I look at her and ask if I’m fired.)

Assistant Manager: “H*** no. Today you get an extra employee discount. I’ve wanted to tell that jerk off for over a year.”

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Unfiltered Story #183984

, , , | Unfiltered | January 27, 2020

I hostessed for two years at a very busy, very popular, casual fine dining restaurant in Midtown Manhattan with three floors: the balcony, ground floor, and basement dining room. Many great stories have come out of that place, but this one is my most favorite. It was midway into the dinner rush, and I was stationed at the ground floor entrance when I looked up and saw a rush of people running out of the balcony and to the host stand.

Panicked diners: Can you please give us a new table!?

(As we were scrambling to find new seats for 50+ guests in an already busy time, a server stationed in that area came up to me, dropped a stack of menus, threatened to quit, and relayed me the events: I had seated an older, mid-forties, wealthy man with a young, twenty-something model)

Young model to older man: Old men like you don’t have a big penis.

Older man: Oh really??

(He then stood up, pulled down his pants, and exposed himself to the entire balcony. She reacted by throwing up all over herself. We had to restrain the man, call the cops, and I had to console a crying girl on her worst date night ever.)