(We are grabbing lunch while we are out, and my four-year-old daughter asks for “sandwich and a cookie,” which is what she calls the kids pack from a large sub chain. We get her sub done, and we are at the register at the end of the counter.)

Employee: “And which cookie do you want today?”

Daughter: “Raspberry cheesecake!”

(The employee looks directly at me, shrugs, does not get the cookie. Thinking she didn’t hear her, I repeat it:)

Me: “Raspberry cheesecake, please.”

Employee: “Is this for you?”

Me: “No, it’s for her.”

Employee: “This isn’t chocolate.”

Me: *confused* “Yeah… I know.”

Employee: “It’s not really a children’s cookie.”

Me: “She likes that one.”

Employee: “Are you sure?”

Me: “Yes.”

Employee: “Sometimes people get that one confused with the M&Ms cookie.”

Me: “Yeah, we’re not.”

(There’s another awkward silence where she is not getting the cookie.)

Me: “Can we have the cookie?”

Employee: *takes a deep breath and shakes her head while getting the cookie*

Me: “Thank you.”

(When we sat down to eat my daughter got the cookie out, then asked me many questions about whether it was okay to eat the cookie. The lady didn’t want her to have it, so was there something wrong with it? I ended up emailing a complaint about the situation and got a phone call from the franchisee apologising. When he asked the employee about it, she specified to him which cookies were okay for children and which ones weren’t — turns out white chocolate and macadamia are also on the not-for-children list in her mind — and he emailed me a voucher for a free kids pack.)

(This particular location has a really bad issue with customers ordering sandwiches with double meat and extra cheese, then going to check out and pitching a fit that they didn’t order the extra and refusing to pay. I’ve already had to deal with four customers doing this today, and I am on guard as soon as this customer places her order.)

Customer: “Give me a footlong steak and cheese on white, double meat and extra swiss, toasted.”

Me: “Yes, ma’am. I just have to let you know that the double meat is $3 extra, and the extra cheese another $.60.”

Customer: “Yes. I know that. I come here all the time.”

(I make the sandwich, including the extra meat and cheese, and place it in the toaster before continuing with the next customer. My coworker, who happens to be a middle-aged man with some mild mental delays, finishes off making the sandwich and starts to cash her out. He is a little slow about arranging the vegetables but he gives amazing customer service. All hell breaks loose when he gives her the total.)

Customer: “WHAT THE F*** DO YOU MEAN, $14? IT’S ONE SANDWICH!”

Coworker: “I’m sorry, ma’am. Let me check again. Steak and cheese, right?”

Customer: “Obviously.”

Coworker: “Okay. That’s $9.50, plus $3 for double meat, and another $.60 for the extra cheese. Tax makes it $14.18.”

Customer: “No. I didn’t order anything extra, and I’m not paying any extra. Manager, now.”

(I am the night manager, so I came to the register as soon as she started yelling.)

Me: “What seems to be the problem, [Coworker]?”

Coworker: “She says she didn’t order it with double meat or extra cheese.”

Customer: “I DIDN’T! THIS R***** JUST PUT IT ON THE SANDWICH! I’M NOT PAYING FOR EXTRA!”

Me: “Actually, ma’am, I’m the one who started your sandwich, and I clearly remember you requesting the extras. I even explained that it would cost more, and you were fine with that. Also, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t use abusive language toward my coworker.”

Customer: “LIAR!” *turns to other customers* “THESE PEOPLE ARE LIARS AND THIEVES! DON’T WASTE YOUR MONEY HERE!” *turns back to me* “NOW GIVE ME MY FOOD!”

(I’ve had enough. One customer has already left because the woman is taking so much time and causing such a scene; the others all look extremely uncomfortable.)

Me: “Your total is $14.18; will it be cash or card?”

Customer: “No.”

Me: “That’s the total, ma’am. You ordered double meat and extra cheese.”

Customer: “NO, I DIDN’T! YOU CAN’T PROVE IT!”

Me: “Look, lady. Our security cameras also record audio and are programmed to create a memo at the time stamp whenever certain keywords are used, such as ‘double’ or ‘extra,’ so they can be sure we’re not giving extras away. I assure you, I can prove it. Now, you can pay for your sandwich or you can leave.”

Customer: “GIVE ME MY F****** FOOD, YOU FAT B****!”

Me: *violently slams sandwich into full garbage can* “Leave, now. Get out of the store or I’m calling the police.”

(The woman refused to leave, and at one point shoved our cookie case off of the counter. Luckily, the police station was right across the intersection from us, so the officers got there before she could cause too much trouble. The few customers who remained through the entire ordeal got free cookies. One of them owns a bar across the street, and he gave me a pass for five free drinks for staying strong under pressure.)

(I am finishing up my order at a sandwich shop.)

Me: “…and salt and pepper, please.”

Worker: *maybe 15 years older than I am* “Ooh, you have to watch your salt intake. It can be bad if you have high blood pressure.”

Me: *caught off guard and not sure how to react* “Um, my blood pressure is fine. Can I have salt and pepper?”

Worker: “Well, it’s fine now, but when you’re my age, you need to watch these things. You got cheese on your sandwich, too; can’t have too much of that when you’re older because of the fat and cholesterol.”

Me: “Okay?”

Worker: “Yes, you really need to be careful with these things. I know you’re young now, but—”

Customer Behind Me: “Wow, I didn’t know sandwiches came with health lectures now! Hope it doesn’t take too long; I’m hungry.”

Worker: *pause* “Let me ring you up.”

Me: *more to the customer than the worker* “Thank you.”

(I am at a sandwich shop.)

Clerk: “What will it be?”

Me: “Footlong on white, please.”

Clerk: *butterflying the bread open* “Which meat?”

Me: “Before that, could you add some marinara on the bread?”

Clerk: *adds sauce only where the meat usually goes* “Sure, like this?”

Me: “Yes, for that side. Could you add the same to the other one?”

Clerk: *puzzled, flips the foot-long closed* “You mean on the crust?”

(This happens to my friend who works at a popular sandwich shop during high school. A customer in her mid- to late-50s walks in.)

Friend: “Hello, ma’am! Welcome to [Sandwich Shop]. What can I get for you today?”  

(The customer slowly walks up to the counter and stares blankly at my friend, not saying a word.)  

Friend: “Is there anything I can help you with, ma’am?”  

Customer: *snaps awake and cheery* “Yes. Could I please get the Italian hero with a medium drink and cookies?”  

Friend: “Absolutely!”  

(My friend then proceeds to do the usual game of twenty questions when getting a sandwich done at these shops, and things are going smoothly up until she gets to the vegetable portion.)  

Friend: “What veggies will you be having on this today?”  

Customer: “Oh, I’m not sure. Could I have a look at the lettuce and spinach over the divider to see if it’s wilted, please?”

(The customer tries to give puppy dog eyes. My friend thinks this is odd, but she doesn’t to be rude and refuse, so she holds the container over the divider so the customer can see.)  

Customer: *moans* “Oh, yes, yes. Please give me a big handful of both. Could I also see the jalapeños?”

(The customer attempts to give puppy dog eyes again. Just wanting to get this order done with fast, my friend obliges her and holds the container over the divider. The customer smiles, and then immediately digs her hand into the container and squishes a handful of jalapeños on her face. She begins to scream bloody murder.)  

Customer: “OH, MY GOD, I’M BLIND! YOU STUPID B****, I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU DID THIS TO ME! MANAGER! MANAGER! SOMEONE GET ME A MANAGER RIGHT NOW!”

(She continues to scream until the manager comes rushing out from the office.)

Manager: *to my friend* “WHAT HAPPENED?” *grabs first-aid kit and stuff to help clean up the customer*

Friend: *still in shock* “I… I’m not sure. She just… And smacked it… Like, on herself…” *keeps staring in shock*  

Customer: “THIS B**** THREW PEPPERS AT ME AND HAS BEEN RUDELY YELLING AT ME SINCE I CAME IN! I CAN’T BELI—” *gets cut off by the manager*  

Manager: “Okay, ma’am, let’s go talk in my office to get this whole thing resolved.” *to another coworker in the backroom* “Go take [Friend] into the break room and cover the register, please.” *quietly to my friend* “I’ll be back there in a bit. Go relax until I get this sorted.”

(My friend waited for around ten minutes before the manager came back to get her. Apparently, once the manager got the customer’s details down he asked her if she could show him where in the video my friend had thrown the peppers, and she got nervous and ran out, saying that wouldn’t be necessary. My friend got sent home with a free sandwich to cool off and calm down after everything that happened. Later that week, they all found out that woman had been going around town to the different locations trying to get free stuff and people fired.)