The line is very long (sales, yay) and I’ve been working overtime.

Customer: “I have this coupon.”

Me: “Sorry, sir, the coupon is not valid for this weekend’s sale. It has the blackout dates on the—”

Customer: “—Then just get your manager here to override it! We both know he can do it, so stop wasting time!”

Me: “Sir, even my manager can’t override it for the sale weekend, as these items are on sale this weekend anyway. Adding a coupon to it would override the sale, and even when applied, you’d be paying more.”

Customer: “I want both!”

Me: “We can’t apply both promotions, sorry.”

Customer: “Then you just lost a customer!”

Me: *Looking down the line of about eight other customers.* “Oh no. You think I can find another one?”

I work in the kitchen in a chain pizza restaurant. I made a pizza as ordered and sent it out. The waitress comes back with it:

Waitress: “They forgot that they wanted tomatoes on it.”

I remade it with tomatoes, no biggie. The waitress comes back with it again.

Waitress: “Sorry, they meant uncooked tomatoes.”

Me: “Okay, I’ll remake it and then add fresh tomatoes to it, but I’m starting to fall behind on other orders.”

I remake it and send it out. The waitress comes back with it again.

Me: “What now?!”

Waitress: “They want whole wheat crust, not regular.”

Me: *Frustration showing in my voice.* “Are you sure that’s everything? No other changes?”

Waitress: “I’m asking them the same thing every time!”

I remake the pizza, thinking this FINALLY must be it. But… the waitress comes back again…

Me: “You’re not serious.”

Waitress: “They want whole wheat flat crust, not deep pan.”

That’s it. I take the pizza out myself, bring it to the table, and put it down, and say:

Me: “Eat your d*** pizza.”

Customer: *Gasping.* “You can’t talk to me like that! I’m the customer! You’re just a cook!”

Me: *Walking away.* “And I will not be cooking any more pizzas for this table!”

She complained to my manager, who didn’t uphold the customer’s complaint but also told me I can’t leave the kitchen anymore…

I’ve worked at my department store for five years. I’m passing by the front on my way back to my department when this older guy comes through the front doors and asks me a question about a product unrelated to my department.

Me: “I don’t know the answer to that, sir, but I’ll set you up with someone from that department.”

Customer: “So you’re just gonna fob me off to someone else? So typical of your lazy generation.”

Me: “Sir, that’s uncalled for. As I said, I don’t know the answer to your enquiry—”

Customer: “—so you don’t know about your products? Laziness, or ineptitude? Which is it?”

Nope! Maybe he’d have gotten away with it when I was seventeen, when I started there, but I’m twenty-three now. Not this time, mother-effer.

Me: “Sir, just stop. This store is divided by departments, because there is too much in this building for one person to be bothered to learn all of it for $14 an hour.”

Customer: “But you should be an expert if you work here!”

Me: “Sir. If I had any expert knowledge, I wouldn’t be working in this dump or with you. In an industry that pays between $11 and $14, you will find NO experts because they’re off getting paid for their knowledge.”

Customer: “I want your manager’s name.”

I gave him my manager’s name and mine.

Customer: “You’re gonna regret talking to me like that.”

Me: “Managers here make $18 an hour. That’s also not enough to care. Have a good day.”

I continued on to my department and never heard back about this conversation ever again.

Related:
Minimum Wage, Minimum Effort, Part 7
Minimum Wage, Minimum Effort, Part 6
Minimum Wage, Minimum Effort, Part 5
Minimum Wage, Minimum Effort, Part 4
Minimum Wage, Minimum Effort, Part 3

I’m working in a computer store when a customer comes in with a real issue, but he’s convinced the only way to get help is to scream at someone.

I let him explain his problem. He’s not very clear, so I ask a few follow-up questions.

Me: “Okay, so when you turn it on, does—”

Customer: “WILL YOU JUST HELP ME?!”

Something in me snaps perfectly into place. I match him exactly; same tone, same volume.

Me: “I AM TRYING TO HELP YOU, SIR!”

We stare each other down for a moment.

It works. He freezes, blinks, and suddenly it’s like someone hit his reset button. He realizes I’m actually on his side.

Customer: “…Right. Okay. Sorry. Let’s figure this out.”

His wife softens too.

Wife: “Thank you for helping us. We really appreciate it.”

Within minutes, they’re the nicest, most cooperative customers ever. By the end, we’re laughing and joking like old friends.

They leave happy.

I head to the back room, and one of the younger guys looks at me wide-eyed.

Coworker: “How in the h*** did you do that?”

A customer gets into my lane with a full basket, behind the customer I am about to start serving.

Me: “Ma’am, this is the ten-items-or-less lane.”

Customer: *Looks anywhere but me in an attempt to ignore me.*

Me: “Ma’am.”

Customer: *Suddenly finds the ceiling very interesting.*

I start serving my current customer, and basket lady starts unloading her items onto my belt. I sigh.

When I get to serving basket lady, she’s no longer able to ignore me.

Me: “Ma’am, just so you know, for next time, this is the express lane. Each customer can only bring ten items to checkout.”

Customer: “Where does it say that?”

Me: “There is a sign at the entrance to this lane, and another hanging from the ceiling.”

Customer: “Well, they should be clearer! The text is too small! Not every customer can read those!”

I sigh and just scan her items out to get her away from me. After she’s paid and walked away two steps.

Customer: *Scrutinizing her receipt.* “Hey, the Pop-Tarts are 30% off!”

Me: “Oh, now you can read?!”

I admit, it came out of nowhere. Usually, my inside voice stays inside, but something about this customer just made me snap. I was sure I was about to get into trouble, but the customer was just as shocked with my outburst as I was, and hurriedly left without saying another word. 

I wish customers read signs the same way they read their receipts for mistakes.

Related:
Express Yourself At The Express Checkout