Will Always Find A Way To Get Hot And Bothered

, | Sydney, NSW, Australia | Right | March 9, 2015

(I work as a manager at a fast food restaurant and sometimes I deal with incredibly strange ‘complaints.’)

Me: “[Restaurant], [My Name] speaking. How can I help you?”

Caller: “Hi, I just got home from coming through your drive-thru and my chicken is too hot.”

Me: “…Too hot as in ‘spicy’ hot, or ‘heat’ hot?”

Caller: “Heat.”

Me: “Uh. Okay, it’s supposed to be hot.”

Caller: “That’s why I’m calling. The chicken’s too hot.”

Me: “I’m not sure I follow. What is it exactly that you want me to do for you?”

Caller: “Well, the chicken’s too hot.”

Me: “Okay, is it too hot because it’s been sitting in the warmers for too long or because it’s fresh?”

Caller: “No, it’s fresh. It was actually quite nice. Very juicy, too.”

Me: “Yeah…?”

Caller: “So, what are you going to do about it?”

Me: “What do you WANT me to do about it?”

Caller: “Okay, you know what? You’re so unhelpful. Give me the number to your head office; I’m filing an official complaint.”

Me: “Uh, okay, ma’am. The number is [head office number].”

Caller: “You’ll be hearing from me again soon!” *click*

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BLT, Better Luck Tomorrow, Part 4

| GA, USA | Working | March 9, 2015

(After viewing the menu, I order a BLT. The employee starts to make it and I move over to the register to pay.)

Employee: “Do you wanted anything else on the sandwich?”

Me: “Mayonnaise.”

(When I get to the table, I open the sandwich and there is nothing on it but bacon and mayonnaise. I took it back to the counter and speak to another employee there.)

Me: “Hi, the L and T were missing from my BLT.

Employee #2: “You didn’t tell my coworker you wanted those items on your sandwich.”

Me: “You mean I have to tell you I want lettuce and tomato on my bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwich?”

Employee #2: “Well, how are we supposed to know what you want on your sandwich if you don’t tell us?”

Me: “It’s in the name of the sandwich.”

(He eventually gave me a small bowl with lettuce and tomato, but kept insisting that it was all my fault for not asking for lettuce and tomato on my bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwich. I guess I should be thankful they put the bacon on without me specifically asking!)

BLT, Better Luck Tomorrow, Part 3
BLT, Better Luck Tomorrow, Part 2
BLT, Better Luck Tomorrow

Common A-Salt

| Sacramento, CA, USA | Friendly | March 8, 2015

(I am a 27-year-old male and am eating lunch at a restaurant with my 22-year-old female friend. I have a genetic trait that causes me to have an unusually strong craving for salt, especially on things like French fries. My friend and I are sharing a basket of fries.)

Me: *picking up the salt shaker* “I will eat the ones over here because I like to put a ton of salt on my fries and I don’t want to pollute all of them.”

Her: “No, it’s okay. I love salt. Put it on all of them.”

Me: “Really?” *I start salting the whole basket heavily, but still being cautious and looking up at her to make sure I am not over-doing it*

Her: *grabs the shaker from my hand* “No, put more!” *starts pouring on the salt*

Me: “Will you marry me?”

Her: “No! Why? Are we salt-mates?”

Me: “Yeah, you’re my salt-mate!”

(We both laughed and ate our fries. We took turns periodically adding more salt until we finished them.)

Just Left The Grandma Zone Of Conversation

| FL, USA | Related | March 8, 2015

(I’m getting lunch with my mother, grandmother, and sister. Somehow, the discussion of my potential breast-reduction surgery has come up.)

Grandmother: “Did the doctor tell you about the risks?”

Me: “Yeah, there’s a low risk of not being able to breastfeed, as well as some possible numbness.”

Grandmother: “I hope not. My nipples were always my most impressive erogenous zone…”

Everyone Else: *chokes on food*

The Lord Of The Rings: The Next Generation

| Waverly, OH, USA | Related | March 7, 2015

(My grandsons have recently watched all of the Lord of the Rings and the Hobbit movies. The following happens when my son takes them out for dinner.)

Older Grandson: *to his younger brother* “Eat your potatoes.”

Younger Grandson: *in a hissing voice* “What’s taters, precious?”

(We are now a three-generation family of geeks.)

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