Makes You Want To Scream Cheese

| NC, USA | Bad Behavior, Bizarre, Food & Drink

(I’m a cashier in the bakery section of a restaurant, and it’s a part of my job to get the bagels and pastries for people. It’s a pretty normal sort of day when a woman and what appears to be her boyfriend walk in.)

Me: “Hello, what can I get you today?”

Woman: *in a very thick accent* “I can get sess-me bagel?”

Me: “You want a sesame bagel, ma’am?”

Woman: “Yes, two.”

Me: “Two sesame bagels?”

Woman: “Yes. This. And cheese.”

Me: “You would like some cream cheese, ma’am? Just the one plain?”

Woman: “Yes. Cheese and tomato and spinach.”

(Tomato and spinach is a request I haven’t had before, but I know such things on bagels are pretty big in Europe, and I can do it for her, but I feel the need to clarify.)

Me: “You want spinach and tomato on your bagel, ma’am?”

Woman: “Yes! I come here many time. I do this many time!”

Me: “Okay, ma’am, I’ll—”

Woman: “I do this many time!”

Me: “Yes, ma’am. I understand. I’ll get that right up for you.”

(I head to the kitchen and have a line worker put some spinach and tomato in a to-go bowl and come back up front. I place the cup on the counter and turn to the boyfriend.)

Me: “Did you want anything, sir?”

Man: *in a fairly nice and polite voice* “Yeah, two of the cinnamon raisin bagels and one plain. Sliced and toasted… but only sliced on the plain.”

Me: “Yes, sir. Two cinnamon raisin sliced and toasted, and a plain just sliced. Did you want any cream cheese?”

Man: “Yeah, the cheesecake kind.”

Me: “Got it.”

(At this point, I have to ask the woman if her bagels are sliced and toasted, but she’s kind of scaring me, so I address the question to her boyfriend, who’s about to answer when the woman cuts in.)

Woman: “Yes, toast! I do this many times!”

Me: “Of course, ma’am.” *I make the last few punches on the register* “Anything else?”

Woman: “No! Make this.”

Me: “Of course, ma’am. Right away.”

(I bring up the total and the boyfriend pays as the woman walks away looking rather angry. I get that done and begin work on the bagels. Halfway through toasting them, the woman comes back.)

Woman: “He orders bagel?”

Me: “Yes, ma’am, he did.”

Woman: “Put in separate bag from mine.”

Me: “Of course.”

(The woman walks away again and I set back to toasting the bagels. I tuck the man’s in with his cream cheese, the napkins, and a single knife. I take special care with the woman’s, her cream cheese, and the little bowl of tomato and spinach, because I don’t want her to have any reason to complain. When I’m done, the boyfriend is there, and I hand him the bags with a smile. He nods and walks out. I go about my day in relief. Two minutes later, the woman comes back, looking angry, shaking her bag of bagels, and my heart sinks.)

Me: “Is there a problem, ma’am?”

Woman: “I have no way to spread cream cheese!”

(Now, I know I gave her a knife. I took special care to include everything.)

Me: “There’s a knife in the bag, ma’am.”

Woman: “No… no… How to spread cream cheese while driving?!”

Me: “You… you want me to spread your cream cheese for you?”

(At this point, I’m feeling pretty weak. The woman is all but screaming and I see a few of my fellow employees glancing at me with concern. It’s against policy to spread the cream cheese for a customer, but I’m afraid of what will happen if I refuse.)

Woman: “Yes! I come here many time! I come here many time and never see you! You know nothing!”

Me: “Okay, ma’am.”

(I take the bag and take out all the food to assemble it, veggies, cream cheese, and all.)

Woman: “You know nothing! I tell you to put in separate bag and you don’t do this! I come here many time and I never see you!”

(At this point, I’m trying hard not to cry or begin arguing back, and focus on my task. I peel open the cream cheese when…)

Woman: “Only one cream cheese?”

Me: “Cream cheese costs money and you only ordered one, ma’am.”

Woman: “One cream cheese for two bagel? No! You know nothing!”

Me: “Ma’am—”

Manager: “Is there a problem, ma’am?”

Me: *silently to Manager* “Thank you.”

Woman: “Yes! She know nothing–”

Manager: “Ma’am, we’re not allowed to spread cream cheese for you.”

Woman: “Excuse? I come here many time—”

Manager: “Ma’am, I’d like to ask you to please lower your voice, and we can work this out–”

Woman: “No! No! I come here many time but never again! I never come here again!”

(She begins reaching over the counter, scrambling for her bagels, getting very close to all the pastries.)

Me: “Ma’am–”

Manager: “Ma’am, you can’t reach behind the counter!”

Woman: “I never come here again!”

(And finally, with much screaming, the woman storms out, at which point I thank the manager and go back to work.)

Me: “What can I get you?”

Customer: “Just two cinnamon rolls. Are you all right, sweetheart? I mean, really, some people….”

(And that seemed to be the end of it. I left an hour before closing and had a crazy story to tell people. The next day I came back to work and heard an interesting story from my coworker.)

Coworker: “So, a bit past closing this night, this crazy lady came by. She sounded Russian or something, and she was screaming that she came here all the time and demanded to be let in.”

Me: “What did you do?”

Coworker: “Well, first I told her we were closed, then I told her that I wasn’t allowed to let her in, and after about five minutes I turned on the vacuum and just let her yell…”

Childlike Behavior

, | Perth, WA, Australia | At The Checkout, Family & Kids, Food & Drink

(I work at a fast food restaurant in a large, second floor food court. A child, who can’t be older than five or six, comes up to my counter to order.)

Child: “Hi, can I please have [Menu item]?”

Me: “Sure, anything else today?”

(The child just shakes his head and shyly smiles.)

Me: “Okay, that comes to [price].”

(The child looks at his hand which only has a few silver and gold coins. Putting the money on the counter I realise he doesn’t have enough.)

Me: “Sorry, you’re going to need about [amount] more.”

(The child walks away and I continue to serve as it is busy at lunch time. The child returns with a few more gold and silver coins, and once he reaches the till, I retake his order and he once again places his money on the counter.)

Me: “Yep, that’s enough. It will be ready in a minute.”

(The child once again walks away with his food about a minute later. The line quiets down as I and my coworkers have taken pretty much everyone’s orders, and they are all waiting for their food. A woman in a stained tiger shirt approaches the counter, red faced, the child in tow, and slams her hands on the counter.)

Woman: “Do you not know how to take orders?! My son has walked from our table about 15 times—” *it was twice* “—to make up for your stupidity! He gave you the right change the first time! You just made a mistake and charged us extra! On top of that you didn’t even give us what we ordered!”

Me: “I’m sorry, but I double checked the order with your son, and he said it was corr—”

Woman: “I want a receipt and a refund for this terrible service! Where is your manager?!”

(My manager retook the woman’s order, apparently correctly, but as they were walking back to the table the son was complaining “but that’s not what I wanted!” How about we don’t send children to order?)

No Room For Your Kind At The Table

| Lubbock, TX, USA | Bad Behavior, Bigotry

(I work as a server at a restaurant on nights and weekends. On Sunday, during the after-church rush, a short, angry woman with three young kids in tow barges past the host and grabs my arm as I am walking to a table.)

Woman: “YOU! Tell me what this disgrace is.”

Me: *confused, trying to pull my arm away* “Uh, I’m sorry? What seems to be the trouble?”

Woman: *tightens her grip* “I want you to tell me WHY someone is at MY table!”

Me: “Did you have a reservation for today? We’re pretty booked because of the holiday. If there’s been a mix-up we can fix it.”

Woman: “Of course I didn’t! I shouldn’t need to. I come here every Sunday–” *I have never seen this woman in my life* “–and I always sit right there! Why have you allowed those tramps to steal it from me?” *she points at the ladies at “her” table*

Me: “Ma’am, those ladies have been seated there for a while, and they got here first. We don’t reserve individual tables outside of our party room.”

Woman: *finally letting go of my arm to throw her hands in the air* “Well, what kind of customer service is this? Go get your manager!”

Me: “If you insist, ma’am.”

(I ask my host to call the manager over as I am not supposed to stop serving unless there is an emergency, and this is not one. When I turn back around, this woman has gone over to the ladies at ‘her’ table and began to yell at them.)

Woman: “Why are you [homophobic slurs] sitting at MY table?!”

Lady #1: “We’re sisters, and we got here first. Back off, lady; we’re trying to eat!”

(I quickly rush over.)

Me: “Ma’am, I can’t allow you to yell at other patrons. These ladies have done nothing wrong.”

Woman: “I told you to get your manager! Where is he?”

Me: “Ma’am, she’s coming. In the meantime please let these ladies enjoy their dinner in peace.”

Woman: “You let these [slurs] eat in your restaurant, AND steal my table?” *turning to the sisters* “This is Trump’s America and you are not welcome!”

Manager: “Ma’am, enough! I need you to stop yelling at these people and leave. Anyone is welcome here, but you aren’t welcome to harass our patrons as you please.”

Woman: “Corporate will hear about this from me!” *turning to stare coldly at me* “I will have your job.”

Kid #1: “Mommy, if we have to leave then where are we eating now? I’m hungry.”

Woman: “I don’t know, sweetie. This mean [homophobic slur] wants you to starve.”

Me: *as an actual gay man, shocked into silence*

Woman: *smiling wickedly back at me while leaving* “Better find another job soon!”

Lady #2: “Thank you for getting her away from us.”

(My manager offered them free desserts and we never did hear from corporate. My manager actually let me have an extended break and I got a pretty big tip from the sisters for handling her well, too.)

Was Looking For A Dog-Gone Reason To Complain

| Loveland, CO, USA | Bad Behavior, Crazy Requests, Pets & Animals

(I am a cashier at a well-known buffet chain. A customer comes in and starts walking up the side of the front with no cashier.)

Customer: “This side is free.”

Me: “No, but I will gladly ring you up over here.”

Customer: “Oh, well, I am actually here to start a job.”

(The customer is in no way dressed to be one of our employees but I go to get a manager anyway when he stops me.)

Customer: “No, I’m not really. Three, please.”

(From there things go normally. I ring him and his friends on one of his friend’s cards. They go on their way in. Not long after that another family comes in with a service dog. I ring them through and so after, the original customer comes up to me)

Customer: “Excuse me; I have a question for you.”

Me: “Yes, how may I help you?”

Customer: “Do you guys allow dogs in here?”

(Knowing what dog he is talking about I give him a reply.)

Me: “Service dogs, yes.”

Customer: “That’s bull-s***. I want my money back.”

(Not wanting to argue, I proceed to call a manager to the front. The one who comes is our general manager, an ex-army man. I explain the situation to him and he goes to talk to the guy)

Customer: “This is f****** bull-s***! How can you allow dogs to be in a place where people eat?”

Manager: “Sir, first of all watch your language; there are kids here. And second, we have to allow service dogs in here; it is the law.”

Customer: “It’s bull-s***! What if the dog’s hair gets in the food?!”

Manager: “What if human hair gets in the food? Should I ban all humans?”

Customer: “Okay, well, what if I walk around barefoot?”

Manager: “You can’t. it’s not allowed.”

Customer: “But a dog can?”

Manager: “Yes.”

Customer: “So a dog has more rights than I do?”

Manager: “Yes, he does.”

Customer: “This is bull-s***!”

(The customer then goes back to his table but the manager has had enough, especially with the swearing, and goes and tells the guy he needs to leave, now. It is decided since he hasn’t been here very long we would at least refund him his meal. When refunding meals back onto a card most of the time the same card required to be swiped again to put the money back. Luckily, since it was still so soon after he ate, it just reversed the charge.)

Customer: “Where’s my money?”

Me: “It is back on the card it was rung on, sir.”

Customer: “But where is my money?!”

Manager: “Sir, it is back on your friend’s card. You are not getting cash back.”

(The customer then started to leave but not without telling everyone he passed that there was a dog in the building. Everyone in line either looked confused or just didn’t care.)

Not So Dosa Docile

| USA | At The Checkout, Bad Behavior, Food & Drink, Wild & Unruly

(It’s spring break and I’m working as a cook at a family friend’s Indian restaurant for free as a favor for the week because I’m a student. Most of the chefs working at the restaurant are Indians that just immigrated here, and they don’t like to talk back because their English isn’t great and they fear getting into trouble. It’s a Friday night and because it’s spring break, there are a lot of people, so many so that there’s a wait to be seated. The restaurant specializes in dosas, which are like crepes, except made of rice batter and black gram. Most people like to add onions or chills to them. It’s also a restaurant that lets you see the chefs making your food.)

Customer: *orders his dosa with onions and then walks over to the counter to watch me cook*

Me: *puts the batter on the pan and then adds the onions, like usual*


Me: *taken aback by his tone, but decides to do what he says* “I’m sorry sir. I’ll make it again.”

(I have to dump out the batter I was using because it would be burnt in the amount of time it takes to fry the onions.)

Me: *fries the onions separately then puts it on fresh batter*


Me: *losing my patience at this point* “Sir, there are a lot of customers behind you and I don’t have time to make your order again. If you don’t like the way we cook the food, you’re happy to make it yourself on your own time at home.”


Me: *at this point, my patience is completely gone* “I’m an American citizen, so it’s highly unlikely that I’ll be sent back to India for not satisfying your dietary needs. Keep yelling, and I’ll kick you out, or better yet, file a harassment claim.”

Customer: *still not getting it* “HOW DARE YOU! I WANT TO TALK TO THE MANAGER!”

(Before I can respond, the owner comes out to see what’s going on.)

Owner: “I’m the owner. Is there a problem?”


Owner: *looks at me* “[My Name], is that true?”

Me: “No, I—”

Customer: *interrupts* “SHE’S LYING. THE LITTLE B**** JUST WANTS TO KEEP HER JOB!”

Owner: “I’m going to have to ask you to leave. First of all, [My Name] doesn’t even work here officially. She’s just helping out as a favor. And second, I don’t serve customers who swear at my employees anyway. So, are you going to leave or do I have to call the police?”

Customer: *thinks for a moment before storming out of the restaurant, still visibly angry*

(And the kicker? He was making such a fuss over an order worth just six dollars.)

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