(I take a catering order over the phone.)

Me: “Would you like to pay tomorrow when you pick it up or would you like to give me a credit card number now?”

Customer: “I’ll give you my credit card number.”

(She gives me her number.)

Customer: “And could I have the total?”

Me: “Well, I actually have only written the order down. If you really need the total now I can ring in your order but it will take a moment. You’d have to hold or I’d have to call you back.”

Customer: “Yes, I’d like to have the total, obviously, if I’m going to be charged for it today. You know, I can’t just have charges to my card without knowing how much it will be.”

Me: “Actually, ma’am, the charge won’t go through until the day of. Your number will just be attached to your order in our system and the charge will be applied after we ensure that you get your order.”

Customer: “Oh, no, I don’t want it to be stored in the system. That’s not safe! Never mind, I’ll just pay for it tomorrow!”

Me: “…Well, that’s fine, too! It may just take a minute or so for you to be rung out tomorrow if it’s busy when you arrive to pick up your order, just so you know.”

(I decided not to bother clarifying that she had just given me her number which I wrote down, or that our systems were obviously designed to encrypt credit card numbers so that they could not be stolen, considering we were a business that dealt with thousands of credit cards daily, OR that every single credit card, including the one she would use the next day, was stored in our system anyway in order for us to receive customers’ payments because that’s how credit cards work.)

(I answer our phone at work. A customer wants to place a catering order. After working with her to copy down her order, she asks for a total. I have to go through a longer process to actually enter the order into our system, so I call her back.)

Me: “Hi, this is [My Name]. I’m calling to let you know your total will be [price].”

Customer: “That’s not right. I got [price].”

(I look over what she had requested for her order. I realize that one of the things she asked for was a premium item that wasn’t the same price as the rest of the catering sandwiches.)

Me: “Oh, the two chicken veggies are a little more than the regular sandwich prices.”

Customer: “Well, that’s not right! I called yesterday and spoke to a girl who said that the chicken didn’t cost extra.”

Me: “I’m sorry about that, ma’am. I’m not sure why they told you that chicken doesn’t cost extra but it does. The veggies normally come without it and adding it adds an additional charge.”

Customer: “The girl I spoke to yesterday said they were just additions, so they didn’t cost extra!”

Me: “Well, they are additions. ALL additions aside from our basic toppings cost extra.”

Customer: “I’m really upset that you’re telling me the chicken will cost extra!”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but it’s always cost extra. Do you know who you spoke to?”

Customer: “No, I don’t remember her name!”

(I list a few females names that may have answered the phone. She doesn’t recognize any of them.)

Me: “I’m sorry about that, ma’am, but there may just have been a miscommunication. Perhaps she misunderstood your question or misspoke, because I can’t imagine any of our employees who you would have spoken to yesterday who would mistakenly tell anyone that chicken is a free addition.”

Customer: “I’m really upset that you’re telling me that the chicken is extra!”

Me: “…I’m sorry that there was a miscommunication about it, but chicken has always been extra.”

Customer: “I’m very upset about this! So, what, how much extra is it, what, two dollars?”

Me: “Yes, it would be two dollars total extra. It’s a dollar extra for chicken per sandwich.”

(The customer didn’t speak for a moment, presumably adding up the price again. We went over the prices twice and she asked for me to give her the total again. We eventually finalized everything. I didn’t work the next day, but apparently she sent someone else to go pick up the order. Apparently, she also wrote a customer complaint about how upset she was that chicken costs money!)

(I am about 18 and working at a sub shop. Two blonde beauties from Quebec come through the door. I live in Ontario and most of the people in my little town speak English; however, I went to French school.)

Me: “Welcome to [Sandwich Shop]. What can I get you?”

Customer #1: *in thick French accent, begins placing her order*

(As I cut the bread and start to prep, I start hearing them talking in French, looking at me but speaking to each other; they didn’t even have the decency to whisper.)

Customer #1: *in French slang* “That girl is so ugly. Look at her clothes.”

Customer #2: “I know. Like, why would she even go out in public?”

(This continues as I make their subs with a big smile on my face. They go on about how they’re worried that my touch will contaminate their food, among other slurs about the province and how much Quebec is better. After paying their total I say in perfectly clear French:)

Me: “Merci d’avoir choisi [Franchise]. J’espère que t’aime ton voyage en Ontario.” *Thank you for choosing [Franchise]. I hope you like your trip to Ontario.*

(Their faces turned white and they quickly exited the store, egos tightly tucked between their legs. I apologized to my mom that night for always giving her trouble about making me go to French school!)

(It’s relatively normal evening when an irate woman stomps up to the counter and slams a piece of paper down in front of my coworker.)

Lady: “I DEMAND to know who wrote this!”

(My coworker is taken aback but looks at the paper the woman has put on the counter.)

Coworker: “…Um.”

Lady: “WELL?!”

Coworker: “I’m, uh, sorry, but there’s no real way to know—”

Lady: “It SAYS it was written down in a shop like this! And this is EXACTLY how my argument was with one of your associates, VERBATIM!”

Coworker: “I’m sorry that you’re upset—”

Lady: “Upset!? I’m a LITTLE more than just f****** UPSET! This makes it seem like I’m in the wrong! I WAS NOT WRONG!! And I DEMAND to know who is responsible for this! I knew you were all unprofessional but this is ridiculous!”

Coworker: “I’m sorry you feel this way but I really don’t know how to help you. It says that this took place in California but I would have no idea who wrote this. I could ask around and tell my manager about this—”

Lady: “Yeah, you DO that. And I want whoever is responsible to remove this from the Internet. I am not in the wrong!”

Coworker: “I’m sure that—”

Lady: “I AM NOT IN THE WRONG!”

(She left with a huff and I went over to my coworker to see what the heck that was all about. Turns out the lady had actually printed out a screenshot of a story featured on Not Always Right! The lady returned an hour or two later asking for the paper back, as she realized she had gone to the wrong [Sandwich Shop] where she had had an explosion apparently similar to what the story entailed. She left without an apology or even a simple “thank you” but at least she indirectly helped us to find this website! And to the other [Sandwich Shop] workers within the area: be warned for the crazy lady with a piece of paper blaming her for having been in the wrong.)

(I’m working the register at a sandwich shop.)

Customer: *completely earnest* “I have a question about your cookies. I see here there are some labeled “White Chip Macadamia Nut.” Does that mean there are white chocolate chips and macadamia nuts?”

Me: “I… uh… yes.”

Customer: “So then I can’t give them to my son with a nut allergy, right?”

Me: “That would be a bad idea, yes.”

Customer: “All right, let me have one of those for me and one chocolate chip for my son.”

Me: “I don’t think that would be a good idea, ma’am.”

Customer: *getting irritated* “Well, why not? Do the chocolate chip cookies have nuts in them?”

Me: “Well, no, but they do come into contact with nuts in several places. Like when we’re baking them, or when we use the same tongs to grab them. Or the display case in front of you where the chocolate chip cookies are touching the macadamia nut cookies…”

Customer: “Fine, then, I won’t get him any cookies. Just give me my sandwiches and two small drinks.”

Me: “Uh… I’m afraid I can’t do that either.”

Customer: “Why the h*** not? I paid you didn’t I?!”

Me: “Um… you haven’t ordered a sandwich yet.”

(Luckily my manager came back from break and we were able to sort everything out before it escalated.)