I deliver a pizza to a motel and the customer is a drunk, condescending a**hole.

Customer: “Hey pizza boy, couldn’t get a smart-person job huh? Stay in school. How much is the pizza?”

Me: “$9.87.”

He hands me a $10 bill.

Customer: “Keep the change.”

As I turn to walk back to my car, I see that there is an extra zero on the end: he’d accidentally slid me a Benjamin ($100). I hauled a** to my car, and he must’ve figured it out because he starts yelling to me.

I just know he is going to call the store, so I hide the $100 bill in my car and replace it with a $10 from my own wallet. Sure enough, the manager is waiting at the door when I get back. I hand him my cash belt so he can count it and he finds that I’d made $15 in tips for the night so far.

Manager: “Sorry about that, [My Name]. I knew he was just a drunk a**hole but I had to check.”

If the customer had been halfway decent, I absolutely would have told him about the mistake. But treat me like a loser? Thanks for the tip!

While working at the grocery store one night, I turn to the door and there’s a kid standing there with a monkey in a diaper on a leash. I just tilt my head, trying to figure out if I’m having a hallucination.

Kid: “It’s a monkey, miss.”

His mom is smirking.

Me: “Erm… let me check to see if monkeys are allowed in.”

This is a neighborhood grocer. I doubt that they are, but I’m not facing down the mom. She is one of THOSE customers; we all know and hate her. I walk over to my supervisor.

Me: “Supervisor, does [Store] allow monkeys?”

He’s worked with me for my entire tenure, and he knows that I only request supervisors if I really need them.

Supervisor: “Can you show me the monkey?”

I lead him over to the door where, indeed, the kid and his mom are still standing with the monkey on a leash.

Supervisor: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but you can’t bring a monkey into the store.”

The mom gets mad and starts cussing my supervisor out because we’re somehow discriminating against her and her son for not allowing an animal in the store.

The kid just goes outside while his mom goes to grab a few things, complaining the entire time.

Related:
Containing This Monkey Business

This story is part of our Monkey-themed roundup!

Read the next Monkey-themed roundup story!

Read the Monkey-themed roundup!

The missus and I get a bit of a hankering for a pizza so I give our local pizzeria a call and order an 18” meat feast for collection.

A short while later, I stroll down to the shop to collect it. While I am waiting for it to be boxed up, a woman comes bustling in and raps her knuckles imperiously on the counter demanding service; the only person serving was currently out the back dealing with my order.

The lass dutifully comes out, tells me that my pizza will be out shortly, and turns to the woman to take her order.

Customer: “I want two 12” meatball specials and be quick about it: I have two hungry kids at home!”

Me: “Excuse me, but if both pizzas are for your family, you’re better off getting one 18” pizza: it’s cheaper and you’ll get more pizza for your money.”

A 12” is £8.95: an 18” is £12.50.

Customer: *looks me up and down* “Don’t be stupid! Two 12” pizzas are more than one 18” one. It’s bloody obvious! Didn’t you do maths at school?”

Me: “I did… which is why I know one 18” pizza is bigger than two 12” ones by about 10%.”

She snorts derisively and turns to the lass serving.

Customer: “I’ll be back in twenty minutes… and my pizzas had better be ready!”

With that, she sweeps out in a cloud of cheap perfume. I look over to the lass serving who could barely contain her laughter:

Me: “We get this all the time. Doesn’t matter what you say, people never believe that the 18” is a better deal than two 12” ones. They always think we’re trying to rip them off.”

This is why you pay attention in maths class. The pizza was delicious!

I am fourteen, and my parents are going through a difficult time and need me to stay with my grandmother for a while.

My grandmother is an anxiety-ridden bull who charges horns forward into every mildly-upsetting situation. It is very embarrassing for me that she makes a fool out of herself everywhere we go together. She is delighted to be my guardian for several months, because despite being an incredibly toxic, selfish, inconsiderate person, she takes pride in being a very faithful Mormon who loves Jesus, and this is her chance to “fix” my atheism.

She shoves religion down my throat at every chance. I already love the principles that Jesus stood for, and I’m so glad that he has so many followers, I just want to be left alone about the fact that I don’t subscribe to a particular religion myself.

We are at the grocery store together, and I have just finished checking out. I make sure our cart is loaded and ready to go so we can move out of the way of the people behind us. She continues to block the checkout counter, painstakingly sorting the change she had just received into segmented pockets of her purse.

I made apologetic eye contact with several people in line. I may not be able to stop her from blocking the register while she sorts her coins, but I can at least move our cart out of the way, so I grabbed the front of it and began to walk towards the door.

Clearly very offended, my grandmother latched on to the handle of the cart, and shoots me a death glare.

Grandmother: “I’m not finished yet,”

She then goes back to sorting her coins. I give another apologetic look to the five customers waiting on her to get out of their way, who by this point are all very irritated. As we are walking out, she huffs to me.

Grandmother: “You care way too much about what other people think of you.”

I reply patiently, with a smile.

Me: “No, I just care about being a decent, Christ-like human being.”

The look on her face was priceless.

A guy and his wife book a room online; the cheapest option which happens to be on our upper floor and has no elevator. This IS mentioned online. A couple of hours later they show up.

We move on to the check-in; confirm the name, price, and such:

Guest: “Can’t you give me a better rate?! We’re AAA and AARP, and military!”

Me: “No, sir, you booked prepaid online unfortunately I cannot give any additional discounts.”

We go to confirming room type, and that they booked on the upper level, which for the record is ONLY one flight of stairs.

Guest: “But, stairs?! We’re old! We can’t do stairs! Don’t you have anything on the ground floor?”

I am thinking of you wanted the ground floor then you should have BOOKED the ground floor.

Me: “Well, I can check but we have been pretty busy. As it turns out I do have one king with a jacuzzi on the ground floor but—”

Guest: *Interrupting* “That one! We want it give us that one! Now!”

Me: “Yes, sir, of course I can, but it IS an upgraded room—”

He interrupts again as he turns to his wife. I was trying to tell them since it is late that I could waive the fee since it wouldn’t have sold anyway.

Guest: “You hear that?! Now she wants to charge us more because it’s on the ground!”

Me: “No, sir, it’s an upgrade because the—”

He literally FLINGS his card at me.

Guest: “No, no, it’s fine! Charge the upgrade, whatever.’

Me: “Yes, sir. Give me just a moment to make the adjustment.”

I charge them the $25 it would take to upgrade from what the third-party website paid us rather than just the $10 extra it would have been normally for the upgrade.

If you WANT the fee, sir, I will GIVE you the fee, but if y’all had been half-way polite though you could have saved yourself $30 after taxes!