I usually wear a necklace that’s a Leaf of Lorien from “Lord Of The Rings.” It’s nothing fancy; actually, it used to be part of a bookmark that broke and I liked it enough that I just threaded a chain through the charm. Most people comment on it because they think it looks like a marijuana leaf and they want to know why I’m advertising it.

I meet up with a couple of friends at a local sandwich shop. I get my sandwich made and go to pay and the cashier looks up at me.

Cashier: “Oh, that’s a pretty necklace!”

Me: “Thanks. It used to be a bookmark and I turned it into the necklace when the bookmark broke.”

Cashier: “That’s fun! What is it?”

Me: “It’s a Leaf of Lorien.”

Cue a blank look from the cashier

Me: “From Lord Of The Rings.”

Cashier: “Is that like Harry Potter?”

Me: “Um, no? It’s Lord Of The Rings. You know, Frodo, the One Ring, Gandalf?”

Cashier: “Oh! Is that Star Wars?”

Me: “Um, no? It’s like Lord Of The Rings. You know, Mordor? It was a book series and there’ve been several movies.”

Cashier: “Oh, yeah, I watch TV!”

She grinned at me and I just smiled and paid for my food, joining my friends. To this day, I’m still not sure if she was trying to flirt with me or if she was really that clueless.

We are short-staffed due to a coworker choosing not to show up at all for the past several days, so my coworker and I are considerably backed up. We are informing all walk-in customers of an up-to-thirty-minute wait time.

A woman walks in while we are in the midst of this. We inform her of the wait time, and she agrees and places her order. As soon as it’s paid for, she walks to the counter where food is to be assembled and picked up and immediately sprawls all the way across it. When I try to get her to move, she just moves a few inches aside, ignoring the fact that another customer literally has to reach around her and get his food.

One of our other waiting customers, an older woman, likely already irritated by the long wait, speaks up.

Older Woman Customer: “Miss, could you back away from the counter? We’re all supposed to be staying six feet apart and you’re getting too close to everyone picking up.”

Without even looking up from her phone, the first customer answers:

Customer: “No, I think I’m fine right here.”

Seeing as she’s STILL taking up the entire counter and isn’t even wearing a mask — meaning she’s pretty much breathing all over everyone else’s food — I speak up, as well.

Me: “Actually, no, ma’am, you’re not fine right there. I need you to back up furth—”

Customer: “I said I’m fine right here. I’m not breathing on nothing; this b**** needs to mind her business.”

The woman who chimed in starts arguing with her, insisting that Miss Sprawl-Across-the-Counter back up and that she doesn’t want anyone that close to her or anyone else’s food, while the younger woman continues to just stay put and complains that she shouldn’t have to. Other customers are beginning to come to the older lady’s defence. In an effort to diffuse the situation, I finally tell the older lady:

Me: “I’ll just put y’all’s food over here, then.”

I indicate the rack several feet over meant for web orders.

As soon as I say that, the woman decides she wants her money back because she feels insulted.

Customer: “I shouldn’t have to move for this b****!”

I don’t think I’ve ever been so quick to refund someone. Once I hand her the money back, she hangs for just a moment longer before quipping:

Customer: “Uh. You didn’t say, ‘Thank you.'”

Me: “No, ma’am, I didn’t.”

I went back to serving our thoroughly-entertained remaining customers, ignoring Miss Sprawl-Across-the-Counter as she stormed out.

Related:
Sub-Standard Behavior, Part 2
Sub-Standard Behavior

I work in a sandwich shop. My store recently adopted the trend of having a set of shelves for online orders where people can come in and find their bagged orders themselves. When we started it, I thought the biggest problem we’d have would be people stealing other people’s orders. Nope! It turns out the biggest problem is people for whom being asked to match the number on their receipt with a number on a bag is apparently the hardest task they could possibly be given.

This particular lady stands out with just how obstinate she is about not actually looking. I am in the middle of putting together an in-store order when she approaches the counter.

Customer: “Do you have my order?”

Me: “Possibly. What was the order number?”

She gives a little shrug but doesn’t actually tell me the number.

Me: “Was it an in-store order or an online order?”

I’m pretty sure it was online, as I don’t recognize her, but I figure it is possible that a coworker took her order while I was doing something else.

Customer: “Online, obviously.”

Me: “Then it will be on that shelf over there.”

I nod toward the shelf while finishing up the order I am working on.

Customer: “Is that my order?”

Me: “No, this is someone else’s. Order [number]!”

The lady who has [number] comes over and picks it up. It is a little awkward, given the first lady is blocking the counter. The first lady turns to watch the order being taken before turning back to me.

Customer: “So, where is my order?”

Me: “It should be on that shelf.”

This time, I lean over the counter and point past her at the shelf, which is about five feet behind her. This time, she actually turns and looks at the shelf and then walks that way. Assuming that she is now finally taken care of, I head over to the register to take the order of a couple that has just walked in. However, once I finish with them, I look over to see the lady standing in front of the shelf and looking around blankly. Given that I am apparently a glutton for punishment, I walk out from behind the counter and over to her.

Me: “Is your order not here? It might still be being made.”

Customer: “What is my number?”

Me: “Um, it should be on your digital receipt.”

She then whips out her phone and starts tapping it, so I once again head back behind the counter, thinking that now she will be fine.

I take the order of a family, tray up and hand out the order from the couple before, and then look back over to see the woman standing with her phone held out. On the phone screen, I’m able to make out her digital receipt, with her order number big and bolded. I’m also able to see that same number printed on the receipt on the side of the bag that is sitting directly in front of her. After another couple of moments, where she continues to stand there like a cell-phone-wielding statue, I step out once again and walk over, pulling her bag off the shelf.

Me: “Well, here you go, ma’am. It looks like this one is your order.”

Customer: “Does it have everything?”

I hold the bag out to her, and she finally reaches out and takes it.

Me: “You are welcome to check inside and verify that everything is there.”

She stared at me for a bit longer and then finally turned and walked out of the store. It seriously took her about ten minutes all told to pick up her order, when it should have taken only around fifteen seconds.

I am a sandwich maker in a sandwich shop.

I’ve been a strict vegetarian since age twelve, so for well over twenty years now. It’s been so long since I ate animal flesh that accidentally doing so will make me physically ill, with the same effects as food poisoning. Therefore, I have learned to ask what is in things before I order them.

Customer #1: “What’s that on top of my loaded fries?”

Coworker: “Cheese, ranch, and bacon.”

After it’s made and handed to her:

Customer #1: “I don’t eat bacon. Can I get one without it?”

I am screaming inside as I have to throw away food.

Me: “Sure!”

I remake it without bacon. Not even fifteen minutes later, as I’m making an order consisting of two of my brand’s iconic sandwiches:

Customer #2: *To my coworker* “Hey, I ordered two [sandwiches], but what is that girl putting on them?”

By “girl,” they mean me.

Coworker: “Our [signature] sauce that comes on all [sandwiches].”

Customer: “Oh, I don’t want that on it. Can I have it without?”

I am screaming inside again as I have to throw away more food.

Me: “Give me a minute. I’ll have to toast new buns.”

I had to remake food three times in my first hour at work because of customer stupidity.  

I have four magic words for anyone who wants to eat out somewhere where they don’t know the menu but has things they can’t or won’t eat:

What. Comes. On. That.

I work at a popular sandwich shop in a small town. My manager asks me to cover in another town because that store is running low on staff. I’m checking someone out and his total is six or seven dollars and he hands me a twenty. Our drawer only has a couple twenties and some ones.

Me: “Hey, [Manager], I need the safe code so I can grab some change real fast.”

She comes over and tells me the code, I grab out the zipped bag and search for some other bills. Unfortunately, there’re only twenties and ones in there, as well.

Me: “[Manager], we only have twenties and ones, no tens or fives.”

Manager: “We can’t buy either of those, so you’ll have to give change in ones.”

She explains that when we get change from the bank, we can only get it in twenties and ones, so whatever we have in the register from customers is all we have.

I grab the ones and count out the customer’s change. He has been listening to the whole conversation and doesn’t seem to mind about the change.

Me: “Here’s your change. Would you like your receipt?”

Customer: “No, thanks. Now I can go to the titty bar!”