I believed I had it all: a beautiful ten-year-old daughter and five-year-old son, an easy job I love, and a hard-working husband who understood me like the back of his hand. Case in point, I almost died during our son’s birth, and because of that, I didn’t want to have any sex any time soon after his birth. My body was in too much pain, and the emotional trauma from it all was not very… bedroom-mood-worthy. My husband never pushed for sex, though, and didn’t even ask, so I assumed he understood me and was just getting it on with videos or movies.

Imagine my shock when CPS arrived at our home a few months ago and revealed to us that one of [Husband]’s former coworkers, whom I’d never met, had passed away, leaving a five-year-old daughter behind, [Husband]’s name was on her birth certificate, and the woman had named him her daughter’s father in her will.

Yes, he was going out cheating on me while I was facing an overly complicated pregnancy and life-threatening birth. And then, he had the gall to tell me it was to help me!

The CPS workers explained to us that [Husband] was her closest living relative and asked if we wanted to take her in. I agreed to take her in. Yes, I know this might be the true cause of all my issues, but my husband had pawned that poor girl off to live with her single mother for five years; he didn’t get to pawn her away when she needed help. She was his responsibility, and now, she is ours.

I told [Husband] I’d help take care of the necessary visits for wellness checks and help with whatever CPS wanted us to do. All he had to do was explain everything to our children. We had to clean out a room and buy new furniture, and we even looked for some toys. Our children go to a private school, so I picked up some more work hours in order to be able to afford her tuition. I was the one who had to tell our extended families about the big change because he didn’t want to do so. I did almost all of the heavy lifting.

So, color me shocked when his daughter finally joined our family two weeks ago, and the first words out of our children’s mouths were, “Who’s that?” Yes, I was the one who had to tell our children’s school, extended families, family doctors, and my workplace about my husband’s affair and subsequent addition to our family, but he couldn’t tell our children because he was “too ashamed” to face them.

So, guess who had to explain that they have a sister now as I was trying to settle the poor girl into her new home and room? And shocker, our children didn’t take the news well as it was happening right in front of them. My daughter was screaming while crying, causing my son and the little girl to cry. The situation could have been avoided if my husband had just done the one thing I asked of him and explained everything to them much sooner.

When I complained about it to friends and others, they were quick to point out how his explanation didn’t make sense. Our children had very clearly seen the new room, I had made passing comments about her to them, and they had heard me mention paying their school for a new addition. They should have known about her.

So, I sat my daughter down and asked her why she and her brother had gotten so upset when the little girl arrived when they had known about it. As it turned out, the explanation they got from their father was very different from the actual truth.

He’d told them that a dear friend of ours had passed away and, out of the kindness of our hearts, we had decided to take in their daughter. So, when she arrived and they asked who she was, it ruined his lies when I responded that she was their half-sister. Our daughter is old enough to know what that means and promptly freaked out. She wasn’t upset because she had just learned about our newest addition that day but because she had figured out that her father wasn’t faithful.

Needless to say, I’m planning on divorcing him. But first, I’ve got to get therapy for everyone but the spineless manchild, and I hopefully will be getting custody of my new daughter. One foot at a time.

I used to be a shift leader in a pizza place. We had this regular who was very rude. The first time I helped him, he ignored me when I read his order back to him, so he didn’t know that there was one part of his order I didn’t hear. When it came time for him to collect his pizzas, he gave me an earful about how bad I was at my job to screw that up, and how he wasn’t going to tip as a result. Most people didn’t tip, so that didn’t bother me half as much as he thought it did.

Fast forward three years. It’s my last day. This guy has come in on a regular basis. He calls me “girly” even though I’m a fully grown middle-aged woman, and he is just generally rude and condescending. Today is no exception. 

As I’m finishing taking his order, he makes a remark about how I’d “better get everything right, or no tip”. Normally, I’d just say, “Yes, sir,” and continue on my way. But it is my last day. So, I stop and look him straight in the eyes.

Me: “[Customer], I don’t give a s*** about the tip.”

He is taken aback for a moment by my language because I never, ever swear in front of customers.

Customer: “Sure, you do! You people all care about that!”

Me: “No, I don’t. If that was all I cared about, I’d be disappointed, because only maybe one in four customers actually tips. If how hard I worked depended on that, I’d never work hard. It’s my last day, so I’m being honest with you: I’d rather have a nice customer who thanks me but doesn’t leave a tip than have one like you who is rude but tips if we’re perfect. I usually don’t keep any tips you give me anyway, so you can keep your money. I just want to know that your pizzas are hot, fresh, accurate, and beautifully made. Oh, and stop calling me ‘girly’; I’m a fully grown woman, thank you, not a girl. Your order will be ready in fifteen minutes.”

He was stunned into silence, surprisingly, and didn’t speak to me again until I called out his name and showed him his pizzas. He was very humble and thanked me as he handed me a ten-dollar bill, the most he’d ever given me.

I’ve heard that, since then, he no longer berates the cashiers, he has stopped calling the employees “girlies”, and he is generally one of our best-behaved customers. I’d like to think it’s because I got brave on my last day and told him some hard truths. I just wish I’d done it sooner.

Related:
Warning: Do Not Give Retail Workers Your Attitude When It’s Their Last Day

I used to be a shift leader at a corporate pizza place. We had this customer who would constantly complain every time he ordered. He complained that we made his pizzas on the wrong crust or with the wrong toppings, that we gave him the wrong wings with the wrong sauce on them, and/or that we didn’t include his breadsticks. This went on for a long time until we caught on to what he was doing. My boss told him no more credits, no more refunds.

After that, we didn’t hear from him for months until one day, when he ordered carryout. The next day, he called to complain. That day, I was the manager on duty, and my server was the sweetest, most bubbly person you can imagine. Our customers LOVED her. We also had a visit from a higher-up, which comes into the story later.

The phone rang, and [Server] answered with a perfect customer service smile.

Server: “Thank you for calling [Pizza Place]. This is [Server]. Will this be for delivery or carryout?”

She listened for a moment, and the smile dropped from her face. 

Server: “I’m so sorry to hear that. Let me hand you to my manager. Please hold.”

She very quickly filled me in, rattled off exactly what the customer had ordered, and told me that she had made his wings herself, had cut the pizza, and had also been the one to give him his order, so there was no way it was wrong. I believed her; she was a good employee and she didn’t make mistakes. I also had my suspicions that it was that customer, but I had to confirm it.

Me: “Thank you for holding. This is [My Name]; I’m the manager on duty. [Server] told me there was a problem with your order from last night? Can you tell me what happened, please?”

Customer: *With an attitude* “Yeah, I ordered [wings], but I got [other wings] instead, and it was the wrong sauce. The pizza was supposed to be a [premium crust] but it was a [cheaper crust], and it was supposed to come with three toppings, but it only came with one of them!”

I recognized his voice, but decided to make absolutely sure of it. 

Me: “Thank you for bringing this to our attention. That’s definitely not what we strive for here at [Pizza Place]. Let me see what I can do. Can I get your phone number, please?”

He rattled it off, and I recognized it at this point. 

Me: “Okay, so here’s the thing. I know who you are. And I know that our store manager told you the last time you complained that you wouldn’t get any more credits or refunds from us, so no, I’m not going to remake your food, I’m not giving you a credit, and I’m not refunding you.”

Customer: “Oh, you know who I am? I bet you’d know if I came up there and spat in your face!”

Me: “Sir, I wouldn’t recommend that, because that’s assault. And you should also know that this call is being recorded. Tonight, you are not getting anything from us. You can call in the morning and talk to my manager, but I guarantee you she’ll tell you the same thing I did. Pretty sure you’re done at this [Pizza Place], the same as you’re done at the [Pizza Place] at [Location]. I told you: I know who you are. Have a great night!”

And I hung up the phone. Just then, I remembered that the higher-up was there. And he was staring at me with his mouth wide open. 

I filled him in on this customer, with the server and several others backing me up, not that I needed them; this higher-up knew me quite well as I’d been with the company for several years at this point and had gotten several recognitions for extraordinary customer service, including from the CEO’s wife, so I knew I was good.

And I was. He had no problem with what I’d done because that wasn’t a customer. 

As far as I know, that “customer” has only attempted to order once since I left for greener pastures, and he was told absolutely not by the very same store manager. Good riddance to bad rubbish.