(A man walks in and is very excited about getting a cheesesteak.)

Customer: “Let me get everything on that, but no tomatoes!”

Me: “Don’t worry, it doesn’t come with tomatoes.”

Customer: “Good! No tomatoes though, man. Absolutely no tomatoes! I’m allergic to tomatoes, man.”

Me: “Not a problem.”

Customer: “Good. Just make sure there are no tomatoes ’cause I’m really allergic to them and I could die. If you put tomatoes on there it will kill me!”

Me: “Okay…”

Customer: “Now let me get extra ketchup.”

Me: “…”

Editor’s note: Not Always Right is aware that it is possible to be allergic to raw tomatoes and not be allergic to ketchup. This story remains available due to the humor found in the ironic punchline. It is not intended to be used as the basis for allergen advice.

This story is part of our Allergic To Common Sense roundup!

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(Working at a sandwich place across the street from my college campus. One of my Spanish professors enters, and we chat in Spanish as I make her food. Another man comes in while we’re chatting, and stares at us.)

Customer: “What the h***? Don’t you dare coddle that job-stealing Mexican!”

Me: “Sir, that woman is a Ph.D. I can guarantee you, she did not steal your job. Oh, and she’s from New York. Can I take your order?”

Customer: *storms out*

This story is part of our Confused-With-Spanish roundup!

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(A woman orders a Reuben sandwich and returns to the counter 30 minutes later with about a fourth of the sandwich eaten.)

Woman: “I want to speak to your manager right now!”

Crew member: “Sure, no problem.” *goes and gets manager*

Manager: “Hi, what can I do for you today?”

Woman: “Yeah, I got this Reuben at 4 pm and it’s SOGGY!”

Manager: “Well, ma’am, you purchased it half an hour ago…”

Woman: “Well, I want a new one!”

Manager: *hoping to get the looney out of the store* “Sure, no problem.”

(Suddenly, the woman goes from angry to flat-out crazy.)

Woman: “HERE’S YOUR DELICIOUS REUBEN!” *rubs sauce on the counter and throws a part of sandwich at manager*

Manager: *dumbfounded*

Woman: “I’m sorry… it’s not your fault.”

Manager: “…It’s alright…”

Woman: *thinks for a second, then throws remaining sandwich bits at manager*

(We all laughed quite hysterically, and our manager walked around with Reuben sauce on his crotch all day.)

Related:
When Mood Swings Attack

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

23 Stories Of Truly Terrible Parent Customers

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(I was a customer observing this in line, not the employee.)

Customer: “I’d like a hot fudge sundae.”

(The worker makes a hot fudge sundae and presents it to customer.)

Customer: *eats spoonful of sundae* “The ice cream is melting.” *eats another spoonful*

Worker: “I’m sorry. It’s probably because there’s HOT fudge on top of it.”

Customer: *spoonful* “The ice cream is too soft. *spoonful* I can’t eat this.” *spoonful*

Worker: “I could try to remake it for you, or get you something else.”

Customer: *still chowing down* “This is just awful.”

(The customer takes another spoonful–by this time about half the sundae is gone.)

Customer: “How do you expect people to eat this–” *spoonful* “–when the ice cream is so soft?” *spoonful* “The ice cream should be hard!” *spoonful*

Worker: “Would you like something else?”

Customer: *spoonful spoonful spoonful* “Don’t bother. Just throw it away.” *spoonful*

(The customer hands what little is left to the worker and stomps away indignantly, still complaining.)

My Wife: *not very quietly* “What a b****!

Worker: *smiles at my wife*

This story is part of our Ice Cream roundup!

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(I used to work a fast-food drive-thru window in which I met very strange and stupid people.)

Me: *trough the drive-thru intercom* “Hi, welcome to [Fast Food place], how may I help you?”

Man: *to one of his kids* “Pick something d*** it! I don’t have all day for your s***.”

Me: “Hey ease up, would you?”

Man: *to me* “You little s***! You don’t know who you are messing with!”

(The man speeds up to my window with an angry look on his face. I look at him: a 5’5″, overweight and balding guy. Then he looks at me: 6-foot, 300 pounds of muscle, bone, and a relatively small gut. His expression softens slightly.)

Man: “…were you the one on the speaker?”

Me: “Yeah, that was me.”

Man: “How are you doing? It’s a great day today.”

Me: *big smile* “How’s the kid doing?”

Man: “Fine… you aren’t going to take my order, are you?”

Me: “Nope. My manager has the other headset and he might’ve taken your order if you didn’t piss him off. Have a nice day.”

(I worked at that place for 2 years and a month before I quit. I still have bad dreams about the place.)