They’re More Likely To Fly

| Ireland | Crazy Requests, Food & Drink

(I work in a busy cafeteria style restaurant in a popular tourist attraction. A customer walks up to our hot food counter.)

Me: “Hi, how are you?”

Customer: “Yeah, what’s vegetarian?”

Me: “We have two soups which are vegetarian, we have a salad bar, and today we have a goat’s cheese quiche which is also vegetarian.”

Customer: *points to the quiches displayed* “What about that one?”

Me: “That is a quiche with leek and baked ham.”

Customer: “Yeah, I want that.”

Me: “Okay, but that’s not vegetarian. It has ham in it.”

Customer: “Are you telling me I can’t have it?”

Me: “Not at all, sir. I’m just letting you know it’s not vegetarian because it contains ham.”

Customer: “Well, that’s what I want. Give a slice of that.”

(I proceed to plate up his quiche and the sides he ordered. He walks away to pay and sits down. About 15 minutes later I’m now at the cash register serving another customer when I spot him standing close by holding his plate.)

Me: “Can I help you, sir?”

Customer: “I want a refund.”

Me: “Was there something wrong with your meal?”

Customer: “I asked for a vegetarian meal and I was served a quiche with meat in it.”

Me: “Sir, I served you that quiche. I explained to you there was ham in it, therefore making it not vegetarian. You went ahead and ordered it anyway.”

Customer: “But it has meat in it. I want a refund.”

Me: “Sir, first of all, I told you it wasn’t vegetarian. Second of all, you have eaten all of it. I cannot give you a refund.”

Customer: “I want to speak to a supervisor.”

Me: “I am a supervisor. I cannot give you a refund because you were told that the meal you ordered was not vegetarian and I believe I pointed out more than once that there was ham in it.”

Customer: *slams down his empty plate* “How was I supposed to know ham was meat?!”

Me: “Sir, pigs don’t grow on trees.”

What Would Jesus Order?

| KY, USA | Crazy Requests, Religion

(I own a small diner in the middle of town. Despite how small it is, we get a fair amount of customers during the week. However, weekends tend to be extremely slow, usually to the point that I can run everything by myself on Saturdays and Sundays. It’s reached the point where I don’t even bother to stay open past one pm, as it’s extremely rare that anyone comes in after that on those days. On Sunday in particular, I have a group of three middle-age women who come in every week after church to grab some lunch. They tend to lecture and chastise me for working on a Sunday, but I tend to let it go since they’re otherwise fairly pleasant. However, one particular morning, they caught me in a somewhat bad mood…)

Woman #1: “Hello, . I’d have my usual, but no onions this time.”

Woman #2 and #3: *practically in unison* “Same here.”

(I go to prepare their orders, which doesn’t take long since they’re all rather easy to make. As expected, no one else has come in, so I decide to close up once they’re done. After I bring them their food, one of them looks at me with a concerned face.)

Woman #2: “You okay, sweetie? You look a little stressed out.”

Me: “Oh… it’s nothing serious. I just got caught in the middle of some drama between some friends, so I didn’t get much sleep.”

Woman #1: *scoffs* “Well maybe this is because you insist on working on Sundays. Clearly, the lord is punishing you!”

(The other two chime in, agreeing with the rather harsh comment, and I stare at them in disbelief. At that point, I finally snap, but I managed to keep my cool and take a different approach.)

Me: “Okay… you know what? You’re right. I really shouldn’t be working on Sundays.”

(I pause just long enough to watch them pat each other on the back for finally “convincing” me of how “wrong” I’ve been, then continue.)

Me: “So, from now on, I won’t open this place on Sundays anymore.”

Woman #3: *suddenly turning pale after it seemingly takes a moment for my words to register* “…Wait …what?”

Woman #2: *also catching on* “But… where will we go to eat then? You’re the only place around here that’s affordable!”

Woman #1: “Yeah! You can’t do this! We’ve been loyal customers ever since you opened this place up!”

Me: *shrugging and feigning conflicted feelings* “Well, I really am sorry. But you’ve been saying it yourselves. I shouldn’t work on Sundays, so that means I can’t open up on Sundays anymore.”

Woman #1: “W- well… I’m sure the lord will make an exception… just this once! After all, you’re serving his followers, so… yeah! I’m sure He’ll forgive you!”

(The other two hastily nodded in agreement, and I had an admittedly cocky grin plastered on my face for the rest of the day. Naturally, they haven’t given me any grief about working on Sundays ever since.)

A Sour Attitude

, | NJ, USA | Bizarre, Food & Drink

(I ring up a customer for a sweet tea. The sweet tea is self-serve, but we have lemon slices in the back that we can give the customer if requested.)

Customer: “I want lemon.”

Me: “Sure, no problem.” *puts slice of lemon in a small cup as is customary, and hands it to her*

Customer: *looks inside, makes disgusted face, gives it back* “No. That’s not what I wanted. I want SOME lemon.”

Me: “Um, we usually just give out one slice. How many did you want?”

Customer: “Whatever you consider to be SOME lemon.”

Me: *hesitantly gives her two more slices* “Here you go?”

Customer: “That’s too much.” *gives one back and walks away*

Should Have Explained More Plainly

, | Basildon, England, UK | Food & Drink, Language & Words

(I work throughout college. A woman approaches my till with her young daughter.)

Me: “Hi, what would you like today?”

(The woman leans down and says to her daughter loud enough for everyone to hear:)

Woman: “See? THIS is what happens when you don’t do well at school!” *stands up and gives her order extremely slowly, pronouncing every syllable deliberately while I’m trying not to laugh* “…and a plain burger. PLAIN. Do you know what that means?”

Me: “Yes, I’m aware. That’ll be [total], please.”

Woman: “No… No, is that burger PLAAAIN?”

Me: “Yeees, I put that through. [Total], please.”

Woman: “Explain what plain means for me so I’m sure.”

Me: “It means plain, devoid of condiments, bereft of ketchup, void of mustard, a lack of lettuce and onions, nothing but a solitary burger on a lonely bun, the isolated meat longing for the sweet embrace of salads and sauces but doomed to remain on its barren bed awaiting sweet consumption.”

Woman: “What does that mean?”

Me: *head-desk* “[Total], please.”

French Disconnection, Part 3

| France | Family & Kids, Language & Words

(I’m a waitress in a fancy restaurant when four tourists come in: a father, his son, his daughter, and their stepmom. They sit down and are looking over the menu. While French is my primary language I also speak English very well.)

Daughter: “Oh, dear! I can’t understand this. Can one of you guys help me?”

Son: “Of course, sis. Here…”

(He begins translating the whole menu while the dad is also listening in. The stepmom on the other hand looks really bored and annoyed. Finally, the girl has made up her mind.)

Girl: “Thank you, [Son]. What would I do without you?”

Stepmom: “I’m quite fluent myself! Here! Let me prove it.”

(She flags me over with a snap of the fingers, and the four start ordering. To my delight, the four of them, despite the earlier worries, do a great job ordering. Finally, the stepmom hands me the menu and smirks at her stepdaughter.)

Stepmom: “Listen to this.”

(She turns and says something. To her surprise, we are all laughing like crazy.)

Stepmom: “What? Why are you laughing?”

Me: “Ma’am. You just said ‘my son is a cardboard box.'”

(The lady hangs her head in shame for the rest of the meal. When it is time to go, the daughter tips me generously.)

Daughter: “Thank you for putting my stepmom in her place. She took us on this trip to prove she was supreme, but this made the trip amazing!”

Related:
French Disconnection, Part 2
French Disconnection