I volunteered to get lunch for our design team. The new intern, who had been suspiciously quiet all morning, ordered this:
Intern: “I’ll have a six-inch meatball marina, please.”
Me: “Meatball marinara?”
Intern: “Yes, a six-inch meatball marijuana, please.”
At our sandwich shop, we have orders with numbers that mean they get lettuce and mayo, and if someone orders a “slim [number],” it is just meat and bread. A customer walks in and talks to me very nervously, so I try to be helpful and straightforward as we talk to try and help him relax.
Customer: “I’d like a regular turkey sandwich.”
Me: “Do you mean a slim or the actual [number] sandwich?”
Customer: “I don’t know. My wife asked me to get a regular turkey sandwich here. So, I’ll guess I’ll go with whatever the regular is.”
I explain what comes on the sandwich.
Me: “Sound good?”
Customer: “Sure, whatever.”
Thirty minutes go by and the phone rings.
Me: “Hello, thank you for calling [Store]. How can I help you?”
The caller is a screaming lady.
Lady: “ARE YOU DUMB?! You gave my husband the wrong sandwich. You f****** idiots, I want a refund and a new sandwich!”
Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, did your husband order a turkey sandwich?”
Lady: “Yes, and there is also all this other s*** on it! Why would you f*** up my order?!”
I attempt to explain that her husband was told everything before ordering, but she continues to cuss me out over the phone, so I set the phone down to get my manager. My manager picks up the phone and we both realize she never stopped her tantrum.
Manager: “Yes, this is the manager, ma’am. You need to calm down. If you bring the sandwich in, we can explain and figure this out.”
Twenty minutes later, I see a woman park in front of the glass of our store, and she looks pissed, so I walk into the back to grab my manager.
Lady: “You f****** idiots, this is not what my husband ordered!”
The manager pulls out our copy of his receipt and tries to explain.
Lady: “Are you all this f****** dumb?! My husband ordered a regular turkey sandwich and you f***ed it up!”
Manager: “Listen, I need you to calm down and stop swearing in the store; I’ll make you a free sandwich.”
Lady: “It’s the least you could do after making me f****** drive down here because of your incompetence; we are never coming here again!”
We gave her the sandwich and to both our benefit, we never saw her or her husband again, but it did explain the nervous demeanor of the husband.
I’m at a sandwich shop waiting my turn when an older woman cuts me in line. There’s no question of it being a mistake; she knows exactly what she is doing. She immediately crosses her arms and acts like she’s been waiting all day.
I am occupying myself on my phone while I wait and I’m sure she doesn’t think I would notice. I don’t care much, though; the line is moving fast so I don’t say anything.
The person behind the counter sees this and looks at me and then at their coworker with a “What do I do?” expression. Then, an evil little thought pops into my head. I raise my voice past the woman to the sandwich maker.
Me: “It’s okay. She obviously has less time than I do.”
The woman’s back goes rigid and then she slowly turns around to face me.
Customer: “What did you say?”
Me: “You must be running out of time; that’s the only reason I can think of for cutting someone in line. Either that or you’re just rude.”
The woman’s face goes blank, and I can almost see the gears in her head churn as she decides which comment to go after.
Customer: “Are you calling me old?”
Me: “I didn’t say that.”
Customer: “You just said I was old!”
Me: “I didn’t say that, but the fact that you jumped to that conclusion does say something about what you think, now, doesn’t it?”
For a split second, her face goes blank again, and then…
Customer: “You b****—”
She gets cut off by the sandwich maker at the till, in a clear, FIRM voice:
Sandwich Maker: “Madam! Please order your sandwich, or I will have to ask you to leave.”
Customer: “What?! She’s being rude to me!”
Sandwich Maker: “I haven’t heard her say anything rude, and she even let you cut her in line. Everyone here just heard you call her something nasty. What kind of bread would you like?”
The woman either realized she wasn’t going to get anywhere or was so thrown by the sudden change in the topic that she actually ordered her sandwich! I wish I could say the crowd cheered and I got a free cookie, but that was it. The angry, sulking way the woman ordered her sandwich was entertaining, though.
Related:
In Line And Out Of Line, Part 21
In Line And Out Of Line, Part 20
In Line And Out Of Line, Part 19
In Line And Out Of Line, Part 18
In Line And Out Of Line, Part 17
I am a cashier at a local sandwich shop. I have recently gotten one of my friends hired, and I am training her on how to take orders, as well. A regular who can be somewhat rude comes in for the first time while my friend is on shift.
Customer: “I’ll have a turkey and swiss with mayo on both sides of the bread.”
The trainee looks at me, confused, as she has never heard this before.
Me: “Just hit extra mayo.”
Customer: “I don’t want extra mayo! I want mayo on both sides of the bread.”
Me: “Okay, ma’am.”
Once the customer left, I explained to my trainee that light mayo meant less than usual, mayo meant the regular amount, and extra mayo meant regular mayo on both sides of the bread. Listen to the person who works there! I guarantee they know more than you.
I am at a popular chain sandwich shop where the sandwiches are highly customized and made while you watch. I am the only customer in the store when this happens. As the worker is pulling the sandwich out of the toaster oven, it slips and falls on the floor. She apologizes and offers to make me another one. I don’t read into her phrasing, figuring she’s just flustered, and I’m not going to give her a hard time for an honest mistake.
The first sandwich goes in the trash and the second is made without incident. As we get to the register and she tells me the price, things go wrong.
Me: “Uh, are you sure that’s correct? The sandwich is usually [half what she quoted me].”
Employee: “Well, I had to make two sandwiches since the first one got tossed.”
Me: “It was tossed because you dropped it.”
Employee: “Yes, but you told me to make you a new one.”
Me: “Would you have expected me to eat the one off the floor?”
Employee: “No, but you asked for a new one. Since I made two, I have to charge you for two.”
Me: “But it was your mistake, not mine. Why should I pay for a sandwich you dropped?”
Employee: “I made you two sandwiches, though.”
I sense that I’m not getting anywhere.
Me: “All right. Well, I’m not paying for a sandwich you dropped.”
Employee: “You have to pay for both of them or I can’t give you this one.”
Me: “Fine.”
I start heading out. I’d rather get zero for the price of zero than get one for the price of two.
Employee: “Hey! If you leave without paying, you’ll be banned from the store!”
Me: “I’m fine with that.”
