A Chip Of Politeness

, , , , , , | Hopeless | November 5, 2017

(Our gas has been temporarily disconnected, as we’re getting a new boiler installed, so I pop to the fish and chip shop to get dinner for our family. I’ve not been in there before.)

Me: “Hi, can I have a standard cod and chips, please, a battered sausage and chips, and two fishcakes?”

Employee: “Of course, love. Any sauces?”

Me: “Oh, yes. Curry sauce, please.”

Employee: “Okay, coming right up.”

(She then scoops out the two standard portions of chips.)

Employee: “Salt and vinegar on these ones, love?”

Me: “Oh, yes, please, both on that one. Thanks.”

(I notice at this point that she puts another scoop of chips in the bag.)

Employee: “And the cod wrapped together?”

Me: “Yes, please.”

(She adds another scoop of chips, and wraps them up.)

Employee: “And on the second chips, salt and vinegar?”

Me: “Just salt please.”

(She adds another scoop of chips to this lot, as well. I think I can see what’s happening here.)

Employee: “And the battered sausage wrapped with these, fishcakes separate?”

Me: “Yes, please.”

(Another scoop of chips. She repeats my order back to me while wrapping the fishcakes and curry sauce cup.)

Employee: “Anything else for you tonight, love?”

Me: “No, thanks; that looks great. Thank you.”

(Another massive scoop of chips. She confirms what I suspected.)

Employee: “Just in case you’re wondering, every time someone says ‘please’ or ‘thank you,’ I give them another scoop of chips. The clever people like you work that out. Although I think you were brought up right; you say your ‘pleases’ and ‘thank-yous’ to everyone, I bet.”

Me: “What a great idea! It’s a shame that you have to reward people for what should be a common courtesy, but I’m glad it works for you. Goodnight, and thanks for all the chips!”

(Of course, I now had more chips than a family of four could possibly eat, but they did us until we got our gas turned back on the next day!)

My Reuben In Ruin

, , , , , | Right | November 4, 2017

(It’s the lunch rush in a cafe where I work as a cashier. One of the other cashiers on staff is still a trainee, and this is her first day with her own drawer and register. She’s very nervous, as she never wanted to be moved from the back of the restaurant. About halfway through lunch, I get a tap on my shoulder. It’s my trainee, looking close to tears. She asks me to come help with a customer. Said customer is an old-ish woman who looks very angry.)

Me: “What can I help you with, ma’am?”

Customer: “You need better workers. This little girl doesn’t know the menu.”

(The trainee is 4’10” and has a soft face, so she looks about 12, though she’s actually 20.)

Me: “My apologies, ma’am; it’s her first day with her own register. What can I help you with?”

Customer: “All I want is to order the Reuben, and this stupid little girl says you don’t have it!”

(I’m angry at her for calling my trainee names, but I bite my tongue and plaster on my fake smile.)

Me: “Ma’am, we actually don’t have a sandwich called a Reuben. Could you be thinking of the asiago steak–“

Customer: “No, it’s a Reuben. I’ve ordered it here a hundred times.”

Me: “Ma’am, I’ve been working here six months. I know the current menu like the back of my hand. I assure you: there is no Reuben. There may have been seven months ago–“

Customer: “I was here last week, and I want a Reuben! Why don’t you know your own menu? You’re as stupid as this little girl!”

(My trainee moves to the back to cry while I deal with the woman. I’m pretty angry now, but I shove it back. Both managers are busy right now.)

Me: “Ma’am. There is no Reuben. There was no reuben last week or last month, and probably no Reuben last year. You are either thinking of the wrong name, or you are at the wrong store. I would be happy to get you something else.”

Customer: “But I know–“

Me: “Ma’am, you can read through the entire menu. If you like, you can come back here and look at my register. I assure you, there is no Reuben. There has never been a Reuben. There is no possible way to get a Reuben at this restaurant. I’m pretty sure we don’t even carry the ingredients to make a Reuben.”

(Flustered, the woman finally got something else. I offered to customize a sandwich for her. She got chicken noodle soup. My trainee was fine the rest of the day.)

Is Stuffed Worse Than Stiffed?

, , , | Right | November 4, 2017

Coworker: “Did you enjoy your meal, sir?”

Old Man: “Yes, I did. Come here; I want to give you a tip for being so nice to me.”

(He shakily reaches out a hand with some money in it. My coworker reaches for it, but the old man pushes her hands aside and stuffs it inside her shirt!)

Coworker: “…”

Old Man: “You buy something nice.” *wanders off*

A Tasteless Starter, Misogynistic Main, And A Just Dessert

, , , , , , | Working | November 3, 2017

(I’m at lunch with my son and daughter-in-law when my son makes a tasteless joke at his wife’s expense.)

Me: “Even if you’re joking, you do not talk to her like that. Or any other woman.”

Waiter: *stage whispered* “Aww… You’re a feminist; how cute.”

Me: “Aww… You’re an unoriginal misogynist; bet you don’t get any.”

(We didn’t see him for the rest of our meal.)

It Can Be Nerve-Wracking Eating Popping Candy

, , , , , | Right | November 3, 2017

(Working as a wait assistant, it is my job to clear tables, bring water and bread, and help with whatever else needs to be done. I approach two young women sitting together so I can set down their water glasses and bread.)

Woman #1: “I’m nervous; I don’t know if I can do it.”

Woman #2: “There’s nothing to be nervous about. When the time comes, it will explode in your mouth, and you’ll enjoy it.”

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