(I work in a popular chain restaurant known for its 100% clean food policy; basically, we don’t use artificial ingredients in our products. We even have a list of ingredients that aren’t allowed to be offered hanging up by our cash registers so customers can see. It’s that slow period just after the lunch rush, and a middle-aged woman walks up to my register.)

Customer: “Do you have gluten-free bread?”

Me: “No, I’m sorry, ma’am, but we do have a few other gluten-free options. Do you have an allergy to gluten, or do you avoid it by personal preference?”

Customer: *turning red and puffing her chest* “I wouldn’t call it a personal preference to avoid putting toxic chemicals into my body! I shouldn’t’ve expected you to have gluten-free bread; all you people put poison in your food to make money!”

Me: “We actually don’t use any artificial ingredients; we even have a list of banned ingredients right here.”

Customer: “Then your bread is gluten-free?”

Me: “Gluten is a naturally occurring substance that exists in wheat. Our breads do not contain artificial ingredients, but they do contain gluten, because gluten is a natural part of certain types of grain.”

Customer: “No! You have to add the gluten; it’s a poisonous toxin and you people are killing everyone to make a buck! And don’t you tell me you ‘don’t use artificial ingredients’! You have to or else you’d be losing money!”

Me: “I’m sorry if you don’t believe me, but our restaurant took a pledge to never use artificial ingredients in its food. The only thing we serve with artificial ingredients is our fountain soda, which is not made by us. Gluten is not an artificial ingredient. Would you like me to tell you which menu items are gluten-free?”

Customer: *still in a huff* “Fine.”

Me: *listing off the menu items, as well as modifications that can be made* “I even have a book here with a list of ingredients if you would like to double-check for yourself, and I will alert my manager that you are ordering so our team will prepare your meal with extra care.”

Customer: “So… none of your sandwiches are gluten-free?”

Me: “Well, we can put the meat and cheese and everything in a dish or on a bed of lettuce. [Meats we serve] are gluten-free.”

Customer: “But I want bread. And it has to be gluten-free. Gluten will kill you, you know!”

Me: “We don’t serve gluten-free bread.”

Customer: “Why the h*** not? Can’t you just make the dough but not add the gluten?! I can’t believe you people add toxic chemicals to your food and lie about it!”

Me: *exasperated* “Pardon me. I’m going to get my manager.”

(She didn’t order anything, and when she left, she was screaming at all our customers that we put poison in our bread. My manager got her picture off the security cameras and forwarded it to the security office of the mall we are located in. I hope she never comes back!)

Related:
Gluten Out Of Ten For Ignorance, Part 4
Gluten Out Of Ten For Ignorance, Part 3
Gluten Out Of Ten For Ignorance, Part 2

(One of my aunts is a high school teacher. One day, she wakes up with a bad case of butterfingers.)

Aunt: *after the third time dropping something in the same class* “It’s a good thing I’m cute!”

(Toward the end of class, she launches into a detailed explanation of what the next assignment is, when it’s due, and other fun details. When she finishes:)

Student #1: “Um, wait… What’s the assignment about?”

Aunt: *gives him a Mom Stare* “It’s a good thing you’re cute!”

Student #1: “What?”

Student #2: “I think she just called you stupid.”

Student #1: “Why?”

(Making bookings for patients is very easy. All I need is the patient’s name, phone, modality, body part, and doctor’s name. I’ve been on the phone for a few minutes. The patient is giving me a rather detailed explanation of why she needs a scan of her back, yet not telling me anything I need to know. I’m polite and don’t interrupt, but I am spending too much time on this call and my coworker needs help with patients lined up.)

Me: “Okay. That doesn’t sound good. Did your doctor want an x-ray, ultrasound, or CT?”

Patient: “Scan of my back. My back.”

Me: “On the form your doctor gave you, did they write XR, CT, or US anywhere?”

Patient: “My doctor’s name is [Doctor].”

Me: “Lovely.” *first piece of information off my checklist, but not what I asked for* “Did they check any boxes? Can you see, ‘spine,’ etc., anywhere?”

Patient: “Yes. It’s so sore. So sore.”

Me: “The paper the doctor gave you. Can you read it to me?”

Patient: “I have a paper. It says nothing.”

Me: *still very polite* “It doesn’t have your name on it? Not the doctor’s name and signature?”

Patient: “Yes, my name is [Patient]!”

(I can’t take it down until I know what they need and what room to start in, so I make a mental note for later.)

Me: “Okay. Now, the paper has nothing on it?”

(I know it’s repetitive, but I have to confirm for what I have to say next if it’s true.)

Patient: “Nothing. There’s nothing!”

Me: “Okay. So, that means its invalid. You’d need to go to the doctor and get him to write you a referral.”

Patient: “It’s here!” *now livid* “No! No. No. It says here!”

Me: “I’m sorry?”

Patient: “It says XR spline. Yes, s-p-l-i-n-e! Lubosac — My back!’

(I gathered it was an x-ray lumbosacral spine, but don’t you just love how information materialises?)

(It’s a slow day. The only customer is at the box office while I wait at concessions.)

Customer: “Where can I get a bottle of water?”

Coworker: *gesturing to me* “You can buy water at the concession stand right over there.”

(The customer walks up to my stand, grabs a bottle of water from the cooler, and walks towards the theater, ignoring me.)

Me: “Uh, sir?”

Customer: “What?”

Me: “Did you want to purchase that water you just grabbed? I can help you right over at this register.”

Customer: “Oh, the girl over there said I could take one.”

Me: “Sir, I’m going to need you to pay for the water.”

Customer: “But the girl said I could take one.”

Me: “The bottles of water are not free, sir.”

Customer: “But the girl said I could take one!”

Coworker: “Sir, I said you could buy one.”

Customer: “YOU NEVER SAID I HAD TO PAY FOR IT!”

(He slams the bottle back into the cooler and practically stomps his way into the theater.)

Coworker: “Wouldn’t the word ‘buy’ have the implication he needed to pay for it?”

Me: “And people wonder why I’ve lost faith in humanity…”

(I work in an ice rink, helping kids learn how to skate and doing birthday parties. Our rink is notorious for not being cold enough and the quality of ice not very good, which leads to it being quite wet and melted on busy days. On this particular busy day, I am helping out a child along the barrier when two ladies struggling along the barrier just behind me call out to me.)

Woman #1: “Excuse me. Do you work here?”

Me: “Uh, yeah, I do. What can I help you with?”

Woman #2: “Can you make the ice less slippery?”

(I stand there dumbfounded for a few seconds before replying, not quite sure if they are being serious or not.)

Me: “Well, the ice is a little melted today, but at the end of the day ice is ice. There’s not much I can do to make it less slippery.”

Woman #1: “Well, they should figure out a way to make it less slippery!”

(After that, I just turned back to the kid I was helping, trying to contain my laughter.)