(This summer we’re selling this ridiculously big milkshake called the “luxury shake” which we mix ourselves.)
Customer: “I’d like one luxury shake, please.”
(I make it for her and hand it over. She just stares at it suspiciously for a long time.)
Me: “Something wrong?”
Customer: “What’s in that?”
Me: “In the milkshake? Well, there’s milk, ice cream, and whipped cream.”
Customer: *horrified* “But I’m lactose intolerant!”
I don’t remember this myself, but Mom used to tell me about it. It happened when my younger brother was a toddler, about thirty years ago.
For some reason, he was crying and Mom tried to comfort him by offering a biscuit but he refused to take it. Meanwhile, my older brother and I tried to sing lullabies to help. It didn’t work.
I can only imagine all the noise that must have caused, and it alarmed — and possibly annoyed — our fifth family member, our cat. She was like an extra mom to my younger brother and me. For example, she would carefully lie down above my head when Mom went out with me in a baby stroller, as if to keep me warm and safe.
Without Mom noticing it, the cat came into the room, jumped up in the crib, and carefully took a small bite of the biscuit. For some reason, that made my brother stop crying, as he then snatched it away, almost like “That’s mine!” In that moment, the cat calmly left the room, her mission completed.
(I am in a decent-sized secondhand store run by three separate church organizations. The people working there work for no pay, so it is mainly senior citizens. My brother and I are there to pick up a shelf after work. I overhear a nasty old lady walk up to one of the workers who is hunched over when he walks — some kind of back problem I assume — is soft-spoken, and was very polite when we talked to him earlier.)
Lady: “How much for this curtain hanger? It has no price tag.”
Worker: “15 kroner.”
Lady: “How can it be that much? I bought one before from here just like this one for just 10 kroner; why is it so expensive?”
(Off she goes with the hanger and I assume she’s changed her mind, so I keep on focusing on taking apart the shelf so I can bring it back home. Lo and behold, back she comes, this time with a manager.)
Lady: “Him. He promised me it was 15 kroner.”
Manager: “I don’t know why he would say it’s 15 kroner when it’s actually priced 30. But if he promised you 15 kroner, then you can have it for 15 and he will be retrained in regards to pricing.”
(I wish I had spoken out about her alleged claim of the low price she’d made at the start but I was so focused on getting the shelf and going home so I just kept quiet. It was pretty clear to me that she was trying to scam a lower price when she didn’t lead with the lowest price of ten kroner.)
(I’m calling up a client I had a conversation with a week ago about a discount offer. The customer is an old lady.)
Me: “Hello, this is [My Name] calling from [Company]—”
Customer: “Yes, I know. You called me here today and I told you I wanted to think about it, but now I don’t want anything!”
(I’m somewhat surprised, but I take a look at my call history.)
Me: “Ma’am, are you sure? Because according to the call history I’ve only called you once before, and that was last week.”
Customer: “Yes, last week. That’s exactly what I said!”
Me: “…”
(Short story, she wasn’t interested.)
I have recently started working at a local restaurant. Despite having only a few days of experience under my belt, my previous job experience in the field as a supervisor plus my strong responsibility ethic effectively gives me a sense of leadership.
It’s about 8:30 pm in the evening when a lone, older man walks in. He hasn’t done anything yet that would signal a red flag, but I assume that he has some sort of disability just by how he’s acting, such as when I direct him to a table; he sits in the bar. I am not a native Swedish speaker; I’m English but learning the language.
Me:
“How was your food, sir?”
Customer:
“Oh… I am praying.”
I give him a smile and a light tap on the shoulder. He then orders the most expensive item on our menu which should have been the first red flag. In my time working here, I’ve only seen one other person order that food, and in comparison to this gentleman, that customer looked as if he could afford it. Not five minutes after his food arrives, I see him putting his coat on and leaving.
Bartender:
“Did he pay with you?”
Me:
“No, but maybe he’s going out for a cigarette?”
Bartender:
“He said he was going home. Maybe he paid with [Coworker]?”
Me:
“Hold on; I’ll check the computer.”
His table’s still active, meaning he hasn’t paid. I run to the door and catch him as he’s just leaving the premises, and now I can see why he was being so strange before: he’s completely drunk. I usher him back inside, which he complies with. I think to myself that he’s probably just forgotten. That is until I get him sat down so he doesn’t keel over.
Customer:
“Listen… Do you think I’m f****** sitting here for f*** all?”
Me:
“No, sir, you just need to pay for your food and drink.”
I print out the receipt and hand it to him. However, he’s having none of it.
Customer:
“I already paid!”
Me:
“Who did you pay with, sir?”
Customer:
“Prove that I haven’t already paid yet.”
Me:
“Which person took your payment, sir? Can you show me your receipt? If you’ve paid, it’s no problem.”
Customer:
“Nope!”
I’m starting to get a little bit agitated by this guy; he’s clearly stalling and expects me to cave. He then starts actually pretending to not speak English and turns his aggression to the bartender. During this, I ask [Coworker] for the phone to call the police. After I get off the phone, the bartender prints off the customer’s receipt again. I show it to the customer.
Me:
“See, sir? She would not have been able to do that on the register had you already paid.”
Customer:
“You know what? Call the f****** police.”
This goes back and forth for quite some time. I get nowhere with the customer until the police show up. Whilst I’m waiting on him so he doesn’t do a runner, multiple tables are looking over at me expectantly; they haven’t had service yet. When the police arrive, I get the runner to take tables, and I go out to talk with the officers.
Policeman:
“Hi. Is he still here?”
Me:
“Yeah, just give me a moment, though? I want to give him one last chance before handing him to you.”
Policeman:
“Sure, we’ll wait here.”
Me:
“Okay, sir, the police are waiting outside. You can either settle this bill now or go with the police tonight. Your choice.”
Customer:
“I will talk with the police.”
Me:
“Fine. Hard way it is.”
He ended up talking with the police in Swedish. I didn’t understand it all but the gist was that the police gave him two options: arrest for theft or pay and leave. He chose the latter, thank God. But honestly, all that fuss over nothing? What the h*** was he expecting to happen?
