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Putting A Dollar Value On Their Tantrum

, , , | Right | July 28, 2021

We’re having a sale. A woman comes in from the other side of town because she was told we have an item advertised in that weekend’s flyer. It turns out that we don’t. This woman goes into a full meltdown, screaming at me, and finally demanding I get a manager.

The manager stands and listens to her scream at him for wasting her time and “making her drive all the way across town for nothing” for nearly ten minutes before he loses his patience.

He pulls out his wallet, gets a five-dollar bill, folds it up, and tucks it neatly into her coat pocket.

Manager: “There. Now your gas is paid for. Have a great day.”

The customer just goggled silently, mouth opening and closing like a fish as the manager walked away, and I had to duck behind some shelves to keep from laughing in the woman’s face.

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Final Orders, And That’s Final!

, , , , | Right | February 24, 2021

Due to living in a border town when the Manitoba lockdown begins, we become the only sit-down restaurant in the area. We close every day for two hours in the afternoon and accept tables and orders accordingly so that no one feels rushed once it’s near closing time. Starting an hour prior, I remind every new table that we will be closing for our break.

Today is one of the busiest in a long time. I have to start turning away people half an hour early because I know that when the last order is ready there will only be fifteen minutes left. Seeing as it’s two ladies sharing an order of fries while they have a coffee date, I know it won’t be an issue.

As I make my way to the door to turn off the sign, I meet a man who is waiting for a table.

Me: “I’m sorry, but we’re full. We close in half an hour and aren’t able to take any more tables.”

Customer: “But you have one right there.”

He points to the only empty and dirty table.

Customer: “I have three people.”

Me: “Yes, but I’m sorry we can’t take any more tables. We close in half an hour, and due to the number of orders currently waiting in the kitchen, you won’t get your food in time. We close in half an hour and everyone will need to leave.”

Normally, I offer to let people order takeout instead, but I know that my boss will be cutting off new orders any minute, and if I squeeze a new one in, she won’t be happy.

Customer: “But I have three people and you have a table right there.”

Me: “Yes, I understand. But we close in half an hour; once we close everyone has to leave. The last table that ordered will only get their food with enough time to finish eating before we close.”

Customer: “But it’s only 1:30.”

I’ve finally had enough and decide to be blunt.

Me: “We close at two; no one is allowed to stay. Your food won’t be ready until two o’clock and you won’t be allowed to stay and eat it. Everyone has to leave.”

He finally left but he didn’t look like he believed me. True to my predictions, the boss said, “No more orders,” right after the man left and the last order was ready with fifteen minutes to go.

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All Aboard The Guilt Bus!

, , , , , | Working | February 18, 2021

This takes place at the beginning of spring before masks become mandatory in my province but are still recommended in public, confined places. I am running late for the bus and have my mask in my hand as I sprint to the bus stop. The driver sees me running, stops the bus, and waits for me.

I board the bus and dig in my pocket to get some change. I haven’t put my mask on yet, as I find it hard to breathe through it when running. The drivers have these huge plastic curtains for these situations. This driver has his curtain pulled to the side, put away.

Driver: “Hi, how’re you today?”

As I put change in the terminal:

Me: “Great. Running a little late, though. Thanks for waiting.”

Driver: “Yeah, you can show your gratitude by not killing my grandma.”

He makes a gesture to his own paper mask. I chuckle awkwardly, putting on my cloth mask.

Me: “Don’t worry, sir. I’m not planning on doing that.”

The driver mumbled an apology and didn’t say anything for the rest of the ride.

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Trying To Grease His Own Palms

, , , , | Right | June 29, 2020

Customer: “I want my meal free for this!”

Me: “I’m… sorry, sir, what is the problem?”

Customer: “My burger is a little bit greasy.”

I work in the restaurant portion of, ostensibly, a truck stop. Burgers are greasy everywhere, but what do you expect? I examine the burger.

Me: “It doesn’t look any greasier than any of the other burgers we serve. It’s just the meat juices; it’s perfectly harmless.”

Customer: “It’s greasy, d*** you! I want my meal for free!”

Me: “Well, I could… get a napkin and soak up some of—”

Customer: “No, I want my meal free!”

Me: “Um, I’m not able to apply discounts to meals myself; I’ll have to get the manager for you. One moment.”

The guy started a scene and shouted quite a bit at the manager, who was adamant about not giving him a discount for acceptably-made food. The manager eventually kicked him out so he wouldn’t disturb the other customers and blacklisted his Trucker Rewards Card across our entire chain.

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The Emphasis Was On The “Can You Run” Part

, , , , | Right | June 29, 2020

For this particular group’s breakfast buffet, we put out a pitcher of orange juice on each table for the guests to help themselves.

Guest: “Hey, you! Waiter! C’mere!”

Me: “What can I do for you, sir?”

Guest: “Can you run and get me a glass of orange juice?”

Me: “Sure thing!”

I pick up his glass, pick up the pitcher of juice from his table, and pour it for him. The guest looks disappointed.

Guest: “ Oh. In that case, can you run and get me a glass of milk?”

Me: “Yes.” *eye-twitch*

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