I’m working at a chain sandwich shop which is popular in the US but does not exist in Britain. The past week or so, we have had a large group of British tourists come in several days during breakfast. Normally, cashiers are required to ask if the customer has a membership card with us before finishing every transaction, but this group of tourists has told me multiple times that they don’t have cards and don’t want to get them, since they’re going back home in a week and won’t be able to use them.

One morning later in the week, an older couple who I do not recognize comes in to order breakfast. I notice two things about them; first, they both have British accents, and second, the wife’s phone has a case covered in pink rhinestones. Because of their accents, I stupidly assume that they are with the group of tourists who have been coming in lately and I just forgot their faces — plausible since it is a large group — so I don’t ask for their membership card. They both order the same breakfast sandwich, and I finish the transaction. After they are all paid out, the husband speaks up.

Husband: “Why didn’t you ask for our membership card?”

Me: “Oh, do you have one?”

Husband: “Of course, we do.”

At this point, I realize I have made a mistake, but I don’t want to admit that I assumed they were tourists because of their accents, both because I am afraid they will be insulted and because I’m embarrassed at having made such an assumption.

Me: “I’m so sorry, sir. It must have slipped my mind; that is entirely my fault.”

Husband: “So we won’t get credit for this transaction?”

Me: “Unfortunately, there’s no way for me to add a transaction to your account once it has been paid out, but if you log into your account on our website and enter the code at the bottom of the receipt, it will add the transaction for you.”

Husband: “So because you made a mistake, we have to do work? That doesn’t seem fair.”

Me: “I know, and again, I’m sorry, but once the transaction has been paid out, there really is nothing I can do.”

The husband sighs, disgruntled, and he and his wife head to our patio and sit down. A few minutes later, one of our runners brings them their food, and a few minutes after that, the husband comes storming back inside. 

Husband: “There are tomatoes on those sandwiches! I hate tomatoes, and so does my wife! Why didn’t you tell me there were tomatoes?”

Me: “I’m sorry, I didn’t know that you didn’t want tomatoes.”

Husband: “It should say on the menu that there are tomatoes! Nowhere on there does it say there are tomatoes!”

He’s right, and I privately agree that it’s a huge mistake not to list all the ingredients, but I have no more control over this than he does.

Me: “I’m very sorry about that. I can see if it’s possible to get the sandwiches remade.”

Husband: “This is just pathetic.”

Me: “Um, let me get you my manager.”

We are trained to get a manager whenever customer satisfaction is at stake. I get my manager who, like me, is a rather petite young woman. The husband berates her, calling her, me, and the rest of the staff “useless” as she apologizes profusely, refunds his order, and has the sandwiches remade. He and his wife receive their remade sandwiches, eat them, and leave. I think that is the end of it until my coworker in charge of table cleanup comes over.

Coworker: “I found this on the patio. A customer must have forgotten it.”

She hands me — you guessed it — a phone in a pink rhinestone case.

Me: “I know exactly who this belongs to. This should be interesting.”

Sure enough, a few hours later, the man and his wife are back. I can see them from the register frantically searching the patio before giving up and heading back to their car. I leave the register and chase them down with the phone.

Me: “Ma’am! Ma’am!”

The wife turns around as I catch up with them.

Me: “Is this yours? Our staff found it left behind on the patio.”

Wife: “Yes! Oh, my God, thank you so much!”

Me: “Of course, happy I could help.”

The husband stood a few feet back, scowling at a spot to my right, but refusing to make eye contact with me. They left after that and I never saw them again, but being the bigger person has never felt more satisfying.

I work at a fairly popular sandwich shop. Recently at lunch, we had a full staff at the cold table and register. There is the bread starter, the meat puller, and the wrapper. The whole time, I stay at the end to wrap the sandwiches and hand them out.

I hand out three sandwiches; two are on French and one is on wheat.

Customer: “There’s supposed to be another on wheat.”

I look at the receipt but remake it anyway. A coworker then comes and chats with them and I overhear.

Customer: “Yeah, she messed up our order.”

The customer looks at me as if I am stupid, emphasizing the “she” in the sentence.

I am the only girl working and I didn’t take their order. They also watched as I wrapped their sandwiches… but sure, blame the woman.

Our store runs a promotion where you can get a free sub on your birthday. As a means to promote their rewards app, you get this as an automatic reward that can be redeemed any time within the week after your birthday; otherwise, you can still get the free sub the day of, provided you have your ID. Today is July 31st, and a customer comes in wanting to use the promotion.

Customer: “Yes, I wanted to go ahead and redeem my free birthday sub! I just have to enter my phone number, right?”

Me: “Is your birthday today, or were you doing it through the app?”

Customer: “Does it have to be today?”

Me: “Well, if it’s today, we can just put the discount through with your ID, but otherwise, we can use the app, and it can be any day the week of your birthday.”

Customer: “Oh, I thought it was within two weeks.”

Me: “We can still check if it’s on your app, then?”

We go through her app. If there are any rewards she could redeem, none show up. Although I’m not supposed to, sometimes I’ll give a customer the benefit of the doubt and let them redeem via ID as long as it’s within the time frame the app would have allowed.

Me: “Okay, looks like you don’t have the reward on here. When was your birthday, again?”

Customer: “The 19th.”

Me: “Oh, so that would have been twelve days ago…”

Customer: “No, August 19th.”

Me: “…”

Customer: “So… can I get my free birthday sub?”

Me: “You can come back the week of your birthday for it. Did you want to order anything in the meantime?”

Customer: “No. I just wanted a free sub.” *Walks off*

The cherry on all this? Two of my coworkers were having a completely separate conversation, and just as the customer began to walk away, one coworker said to the other, in the most unsympathetic tone he could muster, “Oh, that’s too bad.” This is basically a catchphrase for him that I know wasn’t directed at the customer, and thankfully, she was too wrapped up in wondering why she couldn’t get her birthday sub twenty days early to hear him, but the timing was just too perfect.

It has been a fairly busy night, and only two of us there to really tend to all of the customers. I am currently working on attending to the next group of orders while my coworker rings the finished products; one woman has ordered a red and blue slushie. I am the only employee who makes sure two colors are visible on top, but this is not a requirement or even expected most of the time by the customer. The customer in question has just received her blue and red slushie, and she has been short and rude to my very patient coworker, who is starting to get a little frustrated.

Customer: “Are you sure there’s blue slushie in there, too? All I can see is red.”

Coworker: “I promise, I put both in there. The blue is at the bottom.”

By this point, the growing line behind her is getting impatient to get their food and go, but she remains firm.

Customer: “Yeah, well, I saw some other kids with their mixed slushies, and theirs had both colors on top; this is only red!”

Coworker: “Ma’am, you watched me make it. I definitely put both red and blue in there. The total is $2.14, please.”

The customer reluctantly hands her money and leaves. My coworker promptly rings other customers through and jumps on the line again to help me finish up sandwiches. Barely five minutes later, the customer comes back in a furious rage, practically screaming at us from the entrance to our store.

Customer: “There is no. Blue. Slushie in this. I didn’t taste it at all!“

The current customers look both worried and perplexed; the customer is holding her slushie up as if to throw it.

Customer: “I want my money back; there is nothing in this but red!”

Me: “Go ahead and just take it from the drawer; I’ll call [Store Manager] when the line is down.”

At this point, we still have more people in line to take care of, so my coworker leaves briefly to hand her the $2.14 from the drawer.

Customer: “You lied to me. You said it was there!”

I notice how flustered my coworker is, and being that I’m in training to be a manager, I order my coworker back over to the line to finish sandwiches so I can tackle the problem head-on and get my coworker away from the yelling.

Me: “Ma’am, I’m very sorry about all of this. Would you like a free one on the house? I’m the one who mixes the colors up top; I can make one special.”

Customer: “She lied to me! There was no blue.”

Me: “Ma’am, I really am very sorry about all of this, but I’m going to have to ask you to stop yelling; it’s disturbing the other customers.”

Customer: “I will not stop yelling! There are liars here! No. Blue. Slushies!“

Me: “Yes, I realize that. But I watched her put it in, as well; if it was at the bottom, then it would’ve been the first part of it you drank, and now it would only be red. However, I’m still offering you a free one made the way you saw around the rest of the store.”

I’m trying really hard to keep my cool at this point, but the woman dumps her slushie all over the countertop where I’m standing and throws the cup at the wall behind my head.

Customer: “NO! BLUE! SLUSHIE!“

She runs off. My coworker is wide-eyed and trying not to laugh.

Coworker: “Did that really just happen?”

I wash my hands, put gloves on, and turn to the next customer.

Me: “Hi, how can I help you today?”

For the rest of the night, we couldn’t stop joking about how we had the real “Mommie, Dearest” in our store, but with blue slushies instead of wire hangers. We found out later that she called to file a complaint and tried to say that I dumped her slushie all over the counter to “prove there was blue in it,” and that it damaged her [Brand] bag beyond repair. Luckily, we have cameras, and I had a coworker and manager to back me up. Still, both the worst and weirdest I’ve ever had!

Related:
DE TING, DE TING!!!

Homeless Guy: “Spare some change?”

Me: “Sorry, I don’t carry cash.”

Homeless Guy: “What about food, then?”

Me: “Well, I was about to go to the sub shop across the street.”

The homeless guy gives a long, complicated order about a specific sandwich.

Me: “I can’t remember all that.”

Instead, I gesture toward the shop.

Homeless Guy: “Are you inviting me?”

I gesture again and he gets up.

We get in there and he repeats the oddly specific order, but even more specific this time.

Homeless Guy: *To me* “Can I get extra meat on that?”

Me: “Sure.”

Homeless Guy: *To the clerk* “Extra meat, too, please.”

Then, he turns back to me.

Homeless Guy: “May I please get a bag of chips?”

Me: “Normally, I’d say yes, but it’s toward the end of the month and I’m on a fixed income, so I only have just enough money to buy two sandwiches.”

Homeless Guy: “No problem. I understand. Thank you so much for the sandwich.”

He gets his sandwich, starts eating the first six inches, and then rewraps the last six inches and goes out the door.

Meanwhile, the clerk is making my sandwich. The homeless guy has already left the shop. After the clerk is done:

Clerk: “I know it’s none of my business, and your heart is in the right place, but the homeless people here eat better than I do. This is his third sandwich today.”

Me: “Him specifically? Three times, today?”

Clerk: “Well… there were a lot of homeless people being fed, and I don’t know if he, specifically, actually had three sandwiches.”

Me: “Okay, then don’t make accusations. I have a couple of good friends who either used to be or are currently homeless.”

He hands me my sandwich.

Clerk: “That’ll be $5.48, unless you want drinks. Do you?”

I think quickly about this. That price is for a single footlong, which means he is not charging me for the homeless guy’s food, so I now have a surplus of money in my account.

Me: “Yes, thank you. I’ll have one of this size.”

And I pointed to the smallest paper cup they had. I wanted to get out of there before he realized he hadn’t charged me for the homeless guy’s sandwich, so I sat at a booth out of his sight and ate my sandwich really quickly, drank my soda, got a free refill, and left.

In retrospect, and after relaying the story to one of the aforementioned formerly homeless friends of mine, I’m wondering if what happened was that I unintentionally guilt-tripped the clerk and he deliberately “forgot” to charge me for the homeless guy’s sandwich.