(This customer comes through the drive-thru.)

Customer: “Hello. I’d like an iced capp, please.”

Me: “What size would you like?”

Customer: *raises his voice* “An iced capp.”

Me: “Okay, sir. What size would you like?”

Customer: *practically yelling* “What’s so f****** difficult to understand? I want a f****** iced capp.”

Me: *I raise my voice a little* “Okay, sir. I understand you want an iced capp, but what size would you like?”

Customer: “Oh, uh… large.”

(When he drove up to the window, he was completely silent and said nothing to the cashier.)

(I don’t think this series of text messages from an employee — who didn’t last too long, by the way — to our boss needs much commentary.)

Employee: “I can’t come into work today. My dog is really sick, and I need to take her to the vet.”

Employee: *texts photo of a pile of dog vomit*

(There is a notice up in the back room for people to apply to a manager position. I am currently an associate, but I have been working at the company for a year while most other employees are brand new. I don’t want to become a manager, though, and the deadline passes with only new people applying. Two days past the deadline, the current manager pulls me aside.)

Manager: “Hey, [My Name], why didn’t you apply?”

Me: “Oh, I’m taking summer school and I’m worried about not being able to balance the two well.”

(She pulls me out for these talks for the next two days until she eventually convinces me I can do it. I submit my application, and two weeks later I get a phone call.)

Manager: “Hey, [My Name], we didn’t go with you for the manager position, but you can reapply in July.”

Me: “Oh, okay… Can I ask why? I mean, you asked me personally for two days to apply, so…”

Manager: “Well, we were worried you’d be so focused on school that you wouldn’t be able to give it your all at the store.”

Me: “Sure, that makes sense, but… I mean… when you asked me to apply, I told you I had summer school, yet you still asked me to apply.”

Manager: “Yeah, I guess I did… Oh, well, sorry about that.”

(I quit two months later because the new manager they hired who “had more time to focus on the store” ended up being a huge screw-up.)

(I walk into the store after I finish my break and see a teenage girl sitting on a couch with no associate helping her.)

Me: “Hello. How can I help you today?”

Girl: “Oh, I’m not a customer. I’m waiting for my interview.”

Me: “Oh! Hi, I’m [My Name], the manager. What’s your name? I don’t remember having an interview set for 1:30. Are you sure you’re here for the right date?”

Girl: “Oh, no. My interview is at 2:30, but I was worried about being late for this, so I came a little early.”

Me: “Oh… Well, why don’t you hang out in the food court, get some coffee or food, and then come back five minutes before 2:30?”

Girl: “Oh, no, thanks. I ate before I came and I don’t like coffee.”

Me: “So, you’re just going to wait here for an hour?”

Girl: “Yup! It’ll be a good opportunity to see how the store is run.”

Me: “Okay.”

(I got to work and the girl sat there on her cell phone for the next hour. So much for “watching how the store works.” Tip for job seekers: come ten to fifteen minutes early for an interview. Anything more makes the manager feel rushed to get to you and just doesn’t leave a good first impression.)

(Working at a meat counter, I have long since come to terms with the fact that many apparently functional adults have no idea what a pound is, or a kilogram, either, for that matter, but this episode stands out in my memory. The customer looks to be about 25 or so.)

Customer: “What does 200 grams of ground chicken look like?”

Me: *puts some ground chicken in a bag and weighs it* “This is 220 grams.”

Customer: “Oh, no. I wanted pounds.”

Me: “Okay, sure. How many pounds? Two?”

Customer: “No, two hundred.”

Me: “You want 200 pounds of ground chicken.”

Customer: *with absolute conviction* “Yes.”

Me: *long pause* “Okay. Well, we don’t have that much in the store. We can probably order it in for you, but it’ll be a few days.”

Customer: *gets confused look* “What? Wait. How much is a pound?”

Me: *holds up the same bag of chicken* “This is half a pound.”

Customer: “Oh! No, I’ll have two pounds, then.”

Me: “Two pounds, I can do.”

Related:
In For A Penny…, Part 2
In For A Penny…

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