I worked in a pub that mostly catered to students. A “Kwak” is a specialty beer, to be served in a special glass with a bulbous bottom. As such, it cannot stand on its own and needs a wooden frame to be hung from. 

As you can imagine, these are rather expensive and also very much loved by the students. In order to avoid the glasses disappearing like ice on a hot day, my boss required the student who ordered a Kwak to give a shoe — as they were inclined to “lose” their ID but walking home on a sock or barefoot is too big of an inconvenience… especially as it can get cold or very wet. One day, a student who was a regular, came in grinning from ear to ear and asked for his footwear behind the counter. 

The owner sighed, remarked on the fact that if anyone would leave his shoe behind, it would be [Regular] and let him keep the glass.

The shoe rule remained in place but students leaving the pub had to pass a “shoe check.”

My wife was heavily pregnant with our second child. She had cravings for full English breakfasts. So, one Saturday morning my wife said we should go out for one. Never being one to turn down a cooked breakfast, my wife and I and our young son headed to a well-known franchise of pubs known for food and drink.

My wife, clearly pregnant, explained to the bar staff that she needed her fried eggs well done and not runny, due to being pregnant. Note that in these establishments you pay in advance for your food. Before paying, I relayed the importance of the eggs being well done. I was told this was not a problem.

The food arrived quickly, but the fried eggs on her plate were underdone and very runny. Naturally, my wife complained. We were told we did not ask for them well done. My wife said that she clearly asked and I stated that this was double-checked before I paid. I asked to speak to a manager.

The manager came over and barked, “We do not do refunds or substitutions!” loud enough for many other diners to hear. I began to lose my cool and explained the situation bluntly. 

I then stated that, as there is a higher risk of food poisoning from runny eggs, pregnant women (in the UK) are advised to avoid them, and that’s why I confirmed that the eggs needed to be well done before I paid for the food. I was told I had made that up. A simple Google search on my mobile phone proved the manager wrong. 

We were then told it would be fine and my wife should eat the eggs. I then said, “Can we have that in writing?” The manager swore loudly under her breath and then refused to replace the eggs. Due to cross-contamination, we were within our rights to demand a totally new plate of food. 

At this stage, we decided to leave, after spending £30+ for undercooked food served to a woman with child.

(My family and I all go out to a pub and have a meal there. This pub was recommended to us by a lady who lives nearby so we decided to check it out. I order a salmon dish and the rest of my family has meat or vegetarian options. When I cut into my salmon it is raw.)

Me: *politely* “Excuse me? Could you cook my salmon some more, please? I like it quite well done.”

Worker: “No.”

Me: “Why not? I can’t eat this.”

Worker: “That’s how we serve our salmon.”

Me: “Yes, I can appreciate that, but I would like mine more well-done. So, could you possibly just grill it for a minute longer?”

Worker: “No. That’s how we serve our salmon.” 

Me: “Yes. I got that, thank you. Can you maybe take it back and cook it more?”

Worker: “No.”

Me: “Why not? I’m literally just asking you to put it on a grill for two minutes.”

Worker: “That will ruin the salmon and you’ll get food poisoning.”

Me: “Oh. Well, can you make me another salmon? I haven’t eaten anything else on the plate so maybe just tip it off and put a new one on.”

Worker: “Our customers like their salmon like this.”

Me: “What, raw?”

Worker: “Yes.”

Me: “Okay, well, I don’t. So, can I have another dish?”

Worker: “Oh, you want a new plate?”

Me: “No. Another salmon. That’s cooked.”

Worker: “No, that’s raw. I feel like you’re not understanding me.”

Me: “Can I speak to the manager?”

Worker: “Why?”

Me: “TO GET A NEW SALMON!”

Worker: “Why didn’t you say you want a new salmon? I can get you another one.”

Me: “And cook it? Properly?”

Worker: “Yes. Honestly, you should have said earlier. Everything else will be cold now.”

(I work as a waiter and bartender at an Irish pub in Spain that also serves restaurant food. I don’t speak Spanish but have picked up enough to get by when working — food, drinks, numbers, etc. I generally don’t have any language problems while working, but it’s obvious Spanish is not my native language. A Spanish customer has come in with his wife and son to eat lunch.)

Wife: *in Spanish* “I’ll have the chicken burger and a lemonade, please.”

Me: *in Spanish* “That’s fine.”

Son: *in Spanish* “And I’ll have fish and chips and a Coke.”

Me: *in Spanish* “Certainly.”

Husband: *speaks in Spanish too quickly and unintelligibly for me to understand*

Me: *in Spanish* “I’m sorry?”

Husband: *still speaks too quickly*

Me: *in English* “I’m sorry, I can’t quite understand that.”

Husband: *still speaking too quickly*

Me: “Maybe if you show me on the menu?”

Husband: *more unintelligible Spanish, getting annoyed*

(His wife then attempts to tell me what her husband wants, but he silences her.)

Husband: *more unintelligible Spanish*

(I think I finally understand the order and leave to give it to the cooks. When it’s ready, I bring the order back. The husband looks at his meal and then at me.)

Husband: *in perfect English* “I said I wanted the Irish Breakfast!”

This story is part of our Spain-themed roundup! This is the last story in the roundup, but we have plenty of others you might enjoy!

13 Cringeworthy True Stories About Tourists Who Have Absolutely No Clue

If you want to go back to the beginning of this roundup:

Read the first Spain-themed roundup story!

Read the Spain-themed roundup!

(I’m eighteen, working my first job at a pub. I’ve been dealing with a “Serial Puker” who likes to decorate our disabled toilet with vomit — walls, floors, the lot! As I’ve got a strong stomach — and the disabled toilet is used by genuine users frequently — I have had to clean up this mess eight times in the last three weeks. We know who it is, but have yet to prove that he is doing it. It’s 10:30 pm on a busy Saturday, a regular has just asked me to refill the toilet roll, and as I walk out, a well-dressed — somewhat intoxicated — man pushes past me into the toilet. Cue vomiting sounds. I go get the mop bucket, paper towels, and gloves ready, check the toilet, and then follow the man to his table.)

Me: “Sir, do you need me to call you an ambulance?”

Vomiter: “What? No, Why?!”

Me: “Well, you’ve been so unwell in the bathroom that you’ve managed to vomit over every surface except the toilet itself. I assume you’re feeling extremely unwell.”

Vomiter: “There’s nothing f****** wrong with me. It doesn’t matter where I f****** puke, b****. I’m paying your wages so clean it up.”

Me: “In that case, sir, I am giving you two options: clean up your mess and don’t do it again, or you’re banned.”

Vomiter: “F*** you. Who do you think you are, telling me what to do?! Do you know who I am?”

Me: “Actually, sir, I do. And I dare say your sergeant would love to hear about your behaviour tonight. I have his mobile number and am more than happy to let him know the issue we’re having and show him the CCTV footage from the last three weeks.”

Vomiter: *suddenly very pale* “Uh, no, no. I, uh, don’t do that. I’ll pay for cleanup. I’m sorry.”

Me: “No, sir, the disabled toilet is needed tonight. You are welcome to clean it up yourself, though, if you’d like?”

Vomiter: “Uh, yeah. Okay. Uh, have you got any gloves?”

(We never had another problem whilst I worked there!)