(I’m working the register when an older woman comes up to order. She immediately slams down a piece of paper on the counter and I assume it’s a big order she has written down.)

Customer: “Can you read this?!”

(I glance at the note and it’s written in cursive. I sigh as not only do I not have my glasses on but it’s even harder to read cursive without them on. I get my coworker to read it and it says, “I want a small cheese steak with marinara sauce. ABSOLUTELY NO ONIONS! I’m very allergic so clean your grill and spatula!” I start to ring her up.)

Customer: “What kind of person can’t read cursive?!”

Me: “Sorry, I don’t have my glasses on.”

(The customer just rolls her eyes and stands to the side staring at us the whole time. We soon finish making her sandwich after cleaning both the grill and spatula, and then we realize our marinara sauce already has onions in it so I explain this to her.)

Me: “Miss, I’m sorry but our marinara sauce already has onions in it; did you want extra cheese or mushrooms, instead?”

Customer: “Oh, no, that’s fine. I’ll be fine. I’ve had it before.”

(We then hand her her sandwich while my coworker and I just kind of shake our heads.)

Coworker: “This is why people don’t take food allergies seriously.”

(I’m the tired customer in this story. After a tiring few days, I go to get myself a sandwich before rehearsal.)

Employee: “Hey, what can I get for you?”

Me: “Can I get a six inch foot long?”

Employee: “…A six inch foot long?”

Me: “Oh! Oh my god! I meant a 6 inch on Italian bread! I’m so sorry.”

Employee: “It’s okay.”

Me: “I’m so tired. I can’t believe I said that.”

Employee: “You just don’t seem tired at all, so I was confused!”

(He finishes making my sandwich. As I go:)

Me: “Feel free to tell that story to anyone you want. I deserve it.”

(My first job was at a sub sandwich store in a popular mall. I’m still in training, and in the middle of an enormous lunch rush. The line is huge – at least 30 people are waiting, with more coming through the door. At the moment, it’s just myself and my manager at the store. My manager suddenly leaves the line and starts kneeling in front of the safe, blocking my access to the register. I assume she’s getting change, and continue making sandwiches for her to ring up. She tells me she’s going to the bank and leaves me alone in the store without giving me time to reply. I stare at her dumbstruck, and bravely man the line completely alone. Most of the customers are pretty understanding, if not a little inconvenienced. I frequently and profusely apologize for the wait to every single person I serve for the next 30 or so minutes. The line is still enormous when an overweight middle-aged woman comes up. She’s wearing very tight sweatpants that read “JUICY” over the back, and a pink t-shirt with a unicorn on it.)
Me: I’m so sorry for the wait, m’am, I’m alone in the store right now and I’m going to try my best to get you through as quickly as possible so you can enjoy the rest of your day. What can I get you?
Woman: You should be sorry! I’ve been waiting for ten minutes for a god d*** sandwich.
(I proceed to make her a very meticulous and specific ham sandwich. She doesn’t want too many vegetables because she’s convinced I will charge her extra, even though we never have and never will, and vehemently refuses anything that would cost her more than the base price of the sandwich. She’s vulgar, insults me multiple times, and by the time we get to the register, she has taken more time than the last four customers did. The people behind her are very agitated.)
Me: Okay, m’am, your total is [total.] Are you paying with a card today?
Woman: No, wait, stupid. I need this coupon processed first. I’m an official bus driver for Greyhound and I just dropped off like, 50 people. The managers for the mall gave me this for a free lunch.
(I immediately knew this was a scam – for one, the mall and restaurant operate separately, and we do not have any affiliations, including coupons. Second, Greyhound doesn’t even run where I live. Another company operates tourist drop-offs and tours, but their buses carry 150 people or more at a single time, and we’re normally warned a few days beforehand to accommodate the large number of customers. Besides, she’s certainly not wearing any sort of uniform. Third, the coupon was printed on printer paper, and clearly made in MS Paint with our logo and the mall company’s logo hastily pasted on. The rest of the coupon just says “FREE MEAL” – there are no numbers, codes, or promotions on it whatsoever. I did not want to get into a lengthy argument with this woman over her fake meal ticket, so I told her a half-truth to try and ring her up quickly.)
Me: I’m sorry, m’am. I can’t accept coupons without a manager present, and right now I’m the only one in the store.
Woman: That’s bulls***! The management gave me this. You HAVE to give me my sandwich for free.
Me: I’m really sorry, but I can’t process the coupon. Maybe you can use it another time, or I can put your sandwich aside and you can wait until my manager returns.
(The woman grows more and more irate, insisting I *have* to give her the sandwich for free. At least 10 customers have left the line, including a family of 5, and I’m afraid for my job at this point. I start to tremble and fight back tears, growing increasingly afraid of this woman. Her face is red, she’s shouting, and all I can hear are expletives and insults. I’m at a loss as to what to do anymore, and debate calling the police or mall security, but my phone is in a locker in the back of the store. Suddenly she lunges over the counter and takes a swing at me. I barely manage to duck out of the way of her punch. She sprints off out the door, leaving her sandwich behind. I place it aside and burst into tears, afraid, stressed out, and humiliated in front of a line of 30 people. I can’t stop crying and have to frequently stop to wipe my eyes on my shoulder to try and see. After I’ve taken care of about ten more people, the line starts to shrink. Not a single person says a word about the lady that just tried to knock me out for a $3 ham sandwich. Suddenly my district manager walks in and begins assisting me on the line, despite not being on the clock. She wordlessly works through another 40 minutes of customers, and finally the last customer leaves. I’m still wiping away tears and thanking her profusely for her help. It turns out the manager went home early to sleep without saying a word to anyone, and I had a co-worker scheduled to work with me that day as well, but she didn’t even show up to work because she was hungover. I never found the lady who tried to punch me, and was far too afraid to ask for the footage of that day to bring to the police. In retrospect, I should have sued that lady and the entire restaurant. )

My aunt can be a bit… stubborn when she has to answer the same question more than once. She is at a sandwich shop where you go down the line with an employee who puts on meat, cheese, veggies, etc.

Employee:
“And what vegetables would you like on your sandwich?”

Aunt:
“I want all the veggies.”

Employee:
“Do you want lettuce?”

Aunt:
“Is that a veggie?”

Employee:
“Yes.”

Aunt:
“Then yes. I want all the veggies.”

Employee:
“Do you want spinach?”

Aunt:
“Is that a veggie?”

Employee:
“Yes.”

Aunt:
“Then yes. I want all the veggies.”

Employee:
“Do you want cucumber?”

Aunt:
“Let me put it this way. Before you ask me if I want it, ask yourself if it’s a vegetable. If it is, put it on the sandwich.”

Employee: 
“Do you want green peppers?”

Aunt:
“Yes. Okay, let’s try something different. You see all these vegetables here in this area?” *Points*

Employee:
“Yes.”

Aunt:
“I want all of that. Every kind of vegetable on this table. Put it on the sandwich.”

Employee:
“Do you want red onion?”

My aunt just screamed internally.

I work for a sandwich chain that has three subs on the menu that all have the word “Italian” in their names. This occasionally causes some problems, the exchanges usually going like this:

Me:
“Hi! Welcome to [Restaurant]! What can I get started for you today?”

Customer:
“I want a footlong Italian on white.”

Me:
“We have a few ‘Italian’ subs, did you want the Spicy Italian, the Italian BMT, or the Turkey Italiano?”

Customer:
*Pause* “The Italian.”