Not In Receipt Of Common Sense

, , , | Right | September 17, 2019

(I work in a college town and our store location is at the end of a rather populated bar street. I work the night shift, also known as “bar rush” because of the influx of drunk people that come in when the bars close. Being the only fast food place in the area to get to on foot, bar rush is extremely busy for us. Because of the chaos, we require customers to keep their receipts so we know what food is theirs and that they actually bought food. I work register.)

Me: *finishing up with a customer, handing him a drink cup as the receipt prints* “Here you go, sir, and here is your receipt.”

Drunken Patron: *takes the cup* “I don’t need the receipt, thanks.”

Me: “Sir, during bar rush you have to have your receipt to get your food.”

Drunken Patron: *waves it away as he walks off to wait*

Me: *shrugs, sets his receipt to the side, and addresses the next customer* “Good evening. How can I help you?”

(About fifteen minutes later, the first man comes back to the counter as one of my coworkers who works the food line comes over on my side.)

Coworker: “Do you still have his receipt?”

Me: *picks up his receipt and hands it to her, recognizing the man who refused it earlier* “Yup.”

Drunken Patron: “I just want my food; no one told me I needed my receipt.”

Coworker: *understanding the situation* “Of course not, sir. Here’s your food. Have a great evening.”

Tipsy Regular: *at my register* “People just don’t listen, do they?”

Me: *smirks and continues her order* “Same chaos, different night.”

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Unable To Steal Yourself Away For Even A Moment

, , , , | Working | September 12, 2019

(I’m coming off of a busy shift. I go straight to the registers from clocking in and only leave for two very rushed bathroom breaks. I’m heading out, and due to recent employee thefts, we all have to show our bags for a check. As I approach my manager, she waves me to the door.)

Manager: “You haven’t left the registers since you got here. If you managed to get anything worth stealing, have it.”

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Call Ahead, Fall Behind

, , , , | Right | September 10, 2019

(Mother’s Day is by far the busiest day of the year for us. Last night, we already had 31 call-aheads — about 300 people. We do call-aheads and NOT reservations. The way call-aheads work is that the people call however long before they want to come in to eat, and the time they give us, like 6:30, is the time their wait begins if we are on a wait. The system has some algorithm, so if there’s an hour wait, a call-ahead may only wait twenty minutes, but they may wait longer depending on how busy we are and the size of their party, but either way they usually still have to wait a certain amount of time. Call-ahead just puts parties on a priority list and puts them before all walk-in parties. Mother’s Day we have a lot. The wait is about an hour and a half at this point, and a guy comes in to check in for his call-ahead. The first red flag is that she immediately begins with:)

Customer: “We had a reservation.”

(At our restaurant, we call that the “R-word.” We do NOT do reservations, and we are very careful about the word when we speak to customers.)

Me: “Hi! We have a call ahead for [Customer] for six people. I’ll give you this and it’ll be about thirty or so minutes.”

(I hand her a pager. She gives me a very confused look. Two other people are with her who don’t look confused but this lady is just dead confused.)

Customer: “Uh, actually, we had a reservation.”

Me: “[Restaurant] doesn’t do reservations, ma’am. We do call-ahead seating, so you still have a wait but it’s much less than everyone else. The regular wait right now is an hour and a half.”

Customer: “Okay.”

(She walks outside, which is normal for people waiting. Then, she comes back with her husband.)

Customer’s Husband: “We have a reservation. I called last night.”

Me: *explains the call-ahead system again, but he interrupts*

Customer’s Husband: “Yeah, no, I talked to a host last night on the phone and they said they do reservations.”

(I know full well there is no way a host would say that or let him think he was reserving a table. I actually remember him calling, as my closest host friend took his call and had trouble with him trying to book too large of a party so late, so he lessened the party and my friend put it in. There was no mention of a reservation.)

Me: “Yeah, I’m sorry, that should’ve been explained to you when you called, but we don’t do reservations. It is still a thirty-minute wait. As you can see, our wait is currently an hour and a half, so thirty minutes is much less.”

(He says again that he has a reservation. I’m getting annoyed as many people are behind him now waiting to get checked in.)

Me: “No, sir, you didn’t, because [Restaurant] doesn’t do reservations. There’s no way you could have.”

(He says it again.)

Me: “We don’t do reservations. So, no. You didn’t have one.”

(We do this for maybe five minutes. It’s amazing, honestly. I’ve been a host for two years so people don’t scare me anymore. I’m not sure what he thinks he will do by repeating it.)

Me: “Sir, I’m getting you a manager because you are holding up the line.”

(I got a manager. The same conversation happened. My host friend who’d taken their call explained to them and the manager what happened. The guy realized that she was the girl who’d taken their call and got extremely quiet for a bit. But he started up again, anyway. My manager ended up pushing them above everyone else and getting them a table immediately. Ridiculous. But I hope that fool realizes how stupid he is.)

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Drunk And Colorful Language

, , , , | Right | September 10, 2019

(During the winter, we get very busy, and on this particular night we are on a two-hour wait. An older white woman and her family, seven in total, go on our waitlist. She knows it will be two hours or so. We are waiting for one of our smaller round tables, which seats seven, to get up so they can sit there. It is the only place in the restaurant that will fit this amount of people and isn’t already booked for another party. The restaurant has a bar area with high-tops that is first-come, first-serve, so we don’t sit it ourselves. Customers are welcome to sit there if there is an open spot and they don’t want to wait. People also often wait there for a table and order drinks. The older white woman goes to sit at a high-top. Her family follows. Also at the high-top is a young black couple who are peacefully eating their appetizers. An hour or so goes by, and it is clear that the white woman is getting irritated with waiting. She is also several drinks deep. The bar is advised not to serve her more alcohol. We are getting ready to seat her, as the table we had for them just got up and was bussed, so we are literally reaching for the menus and silverware as this happens:)

White Woman: *very loudly* “I want to get sat now!”

Family Member: “I know. We’ll be sat soon. We knew how long we’d have to wait.”

White Woman: *glares at the black woman next to her, though she hasn’t said anything* “These [slurs] got to eat in front of me and I didn’t.”

(A server overhears this and asks the older woman to leave the black couple alone. She is silent for a few more minutes. We page them, and on their way over to the host stand, the woman becomes downright irate.)


(The host who is trying to meet them halfway to collect their pager stops in her tracks. The manager on duty quickly goes up to the family and tells them they have to leave or we will call the police. She tries to fight back, but her family drags her out.)


(This was a year and a half ago and I still haven’t had an incident as crazy or upsetting as this. The nerve old people have! She must’ve honestly thought segregation was still legal.)

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I’m Not Frowning Around Here

, , , , | Right | September 9, 2019

(At my restaurant, there is one round table that sits eight people — the biggest table in the restaurant. Because weekday mornings aren’t busy, we don’t need many people on the clock, meaning only certain tables are open to be sat with customers. The round table in question does not have a server at this particular time. We also have round tables and booths for six people. One old woman comes in with her grandchildren. I’m in the back rolling silverware when my front of house manager lets me know that the lady wants the round table for eight since that’s where the lady says she usually sits. I’ve never seen this woman and I’ve worked at this store for two years, but whatever. The manager tells me the party is five people. It is completely unnecessary to sit five people at this big round table, especially when we have tables that can accommodate the size that actually have servers available to serve them.)

Me: “Is a six-person booth or a six-person round table okay for you?”

Lady: “Uh, no. I asked for that table.” *points to the eight-person table*

(I just nod and get the menus ready. I know this means I’ll have to argue with a server to pick up a table outside their section, so I’m not happy, but “no rules, just right” is the restaurant motto, so I have to sit them there if I have the option to.)

Lady: “Why did you just frown?”

Me: “I’m sorry?”

(I’m a very smiley and sun-shiny person. I don’t typically frown.)

Lady: “You looked down when I said that and frowned.”

Me: “I’m sorry if I did, ma’am, but I didn’t intend to.”

Lady: “You. Frowned.”

Me: “Uh…” *looks to my manager for help* “Ma’am, I think that’s just my face.”

Lady: “You frowned. Don’t lie to me. Why are you frowning? Is it too much work to do your job?”

Manager: “Ma’am, there’s no reason for her to frown! I trust that she didn’t do it on purpose. Your table is right this way.”

(This goes on for a few minutes while my manager desperately tries to get her away from me. If I did frown, that honestly wasn’t intentional, and I tell her that many times. She doesn’t believe me.)

Lady: “You don’t want me here!”

Me: “I assure you, that’s not the case! [Manager] can take you over to your table!”

Lady: “You shouldn’t work with customers if you frown.”

Me: “Again, ma’am, I didn’t mean to frown if I did. I’m sorry.”

Lady: “Are you calling me a liar?”

Me: *before I can stop myself* “Yes, because I didn’t frown.”

(I realized what I said half a second too late. Surprisingly, the woman just looked at me, then followed my manager to the big table she didn’t need that she caused more trouble for than it was worth. Funnily enough, I came out of the kitchen ten minutes later and she’d moved to a six-person booth! But since she moved on her own, she picked one of the TWO booths in the restaurant that did not have a server, so someone had to pick that up, too. She ended up sending back her prime rib three times. At least I wasn’t the only one who got tortured by that witch.)

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