Communing With Sandwiches Of The Future

, , , | Right | January 15, 2020

(I work in a sandwich shop, and occasionally, a customer will just tell me what kind of meat they want and then stare at me as if I somehow have all the information I need. Today, one customer takes it further.)

Customer: “Ham.”

(I try to ask follow-up questions so that I know what bread to put the ham on, but she interrupts me.)

Customer: “Ham.”

Me: *tries again*

Customer: “Ham!”

(Finally, she lets me speak.)

Me: “A six-inch or footlong?”

Customer: “Six.”

Me: “On what kind of bread?”

Customer: “White bread.”

(As I turn around and retrieve a loaf of white bread from the cabinet, I hear her speak again.)

Customer: “Toasted.”

(While I cut the bread and start to place ham on it, she repeats herself two more times.)

Me: “Before I toast it, what kind of cheese do you want?”

(She paused, looked over the cheese for a couple of moments, and then pointed and said, “Cheddar cheese.” I try to help the customer get the sandwich they want, but it’s hard to do so when they shout commands that I can’t do yet.)

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Karen Is Coming And She’s Bringing Friends

, , , , | Right | January 15, 2020

(One Sunday lunch, we are running with six servers on the floor, which is a bit sparse, but we are managing. At 11:30, a group makes a call-ahead for twenty people at noon. The manager pulls one of the food runners to take the party in the party room so that I won’t lose a chunk of the main floor. By the time all these folks are seated, it is actually a party of thirty. They do not call to update the number in advance. They just all keep showing up, so we keep expanding their tables. There are eighteen adults, twelve kids. Now, twenty people can easily be taken by one server. Thirty’s a stretch, but can be done if the guests are kind and patient. Spoiler alert: they weren’t.)

Soccer Mom: *suddenly and without warning approaches behind me at the hospitality desk* “Excuse me. You need to get us another server.”

Me: *as I am VERY obviously trying to check in three separate parties that have just walked in* “I’m very sorry, ma’am. If you’ll give me a moment to check these folks in, I’d be happy to fetch my manager.”

Soccer Mom: “One server’s just not cutting it.”

Me: “Yes, ma’am. I’m very sorry. I’ll have the manager to you as soon as I am able.”

Soccer Mom: “We were here first! All these people should have to wait so that we can have another server.”

Me: “I’m so very sorry, ma’am, but until I can fetch the manager for you, I’m afraid I’m not powerful enough to fix it.”

(The soccer mom stands behind me and taps her foot loudly as I continue trying to help the folks that have walked in and witnessed her tantrum. Time passes. My manager and the thirty-top’s server are at the hospitality desk and struggling to split all the checks, as there have been MANY complications with the party. The soccer mom storms up to the hospitality desk.)

Manager: “I’m sorry, ma’am. We’re still working to sort everything out. I’m so sorry.”

Soccer Mom: “Y’know, you keep saying that, and it doesn’t fix anything! I don’t care if you’re sorry. We’ve been here for two hours. Our kids are playing hide-and-seek in the bathrooms because you can’t expect children to sit for two hours, and we have twelve of them. You have five minutes to fix this.”

(I am thinking 1. Go step on a copper d4. 2. Two hours for an unexpected party of THIRTY is not at all unreasonable. 3. As a matter of fact, I CAN expect children to sit still for two hours. I’ve seen it done. Did it myself often when I was young. 4. Turns out, YOU are the adults of the group, and YOU should actually make an effort to control the twelve children you decided to bring out. 5. You told us twenty people. The fact that you don’t seem to understand why bringing an unannounced extra ten shows me that you’ve never had to work a job like this. If you HAD ever worked customer service, perhaps you wouldn’t be such a rampaging bint. Five minutes later:)

Soccer Mom: *standing in the entrance to the kitchen, WELL past where guests should be, phone alarm and light blaring, BELLOWING at the managers across the kitchen* “IT’S BEEN FIVE MINUTES!”

(Y’know… I’m so happy that I’m me and not her. I only had to tolerate her for two hours. She has to BE her for her whole life… and that’s gotta just suck.)

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Seasoned With Such Customers

, , , | Right | January 13, 2020

(I work the night shift at a fast food chain and every so often there’s a regular who comes by. She’s always slightly rude and really impatient despite ordering items like a chicken sandwich, which takes about seven minutes to cook since we don’t keep any up during the night. This time she has come through the drive-thru.)

Me: “What can I get for you?”

Customer: “[Specialty sandwich].”

Me: “Okay, that’s a [specialty sandwich]. Anything else?”

Customer: “No.”

Me: “Okay, your total is [total] and I will see you at the second window!”

(She pulls up to the window and is now the only customer we have at the moment. I cash her out and, while I wait for them to finish making it, I start finishing up some chores. When I turn around to hand out the order, I see the customer standing there inside with her receipt.)

Customer: “I ordered the #2! Not the [specialty sandwich]!”

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry about that! Let me just have them remake it for you.”

Customer: “And I ordered a meal!”

Me: “Okay, sorry about that!”

(Annoyed, I tell them to remake the sandwich while I get her fries and drink.)

Customer: “I feel like you have something against me! Every time I come here you always put so much seasoning on my burger!”

Me: “No, ma’am, we don’t have anything against you. You can just ask for us to not put as much seasoning on the burger.”

Customer: “No, you have something against me!”

Me: “Here you go, ma’am, sorry about that!” *hands her the food*

(She thankfully hasn’t been back since.)

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The Dermatologist Will Determine That You Need Thicker Skin

, , , , | Healthy | January 12, 2020

(My doctor’s office is small, with only one dermatologist, a physician assistant, and a nurse practitioner. The doctor and nurse practitioner see daily, while the PA is only here Tuesdays and Thursdays. Even so, our schedule stays booked, and new patients have been calling all through the month to get on the schedule.)

Me: “Thank you for calling [Office]; how can I help you?”

Patient: “If I walk in there today, can I be seen by the doctor?”

Me: “I’m afraid not. The doctor is out on vacation until the week after next, and our nurse practitioner has no openings currently.”

Patient: “Well, can I get on the schedule for this week?”

Me: “Sir, it’s Friday. We don’t have any openings today.”

Patient: “What about next week?”

Me: “We don’t have any then, either, because we’re only open Monday, Thursday, and Friday next week, due to New Year’s Eve and Day.”

Patient: “Really? You can’t just nudge someone for me?”

Me: “We don’t do that, sir. You can call each day to see if an appointment is available if you like, but I can’t promise we’ll have an opening for you.”

Patient: “Well, what’s your next available appointment?”

Me: “For the doctor, mid-February. To see the PA or nurse practitioner, it’ll be mid-January.”

Patient: “That’s too long! I have really good insurance! You’re sure there’s nothing at all?”

Me: *checks schedule, just in case, though I have looked at it extensively by this point* “No, sir, nothing has opened up. I can set you for January 14th with our PA, if you’d like.”

Patient: “I can’t believe this! What’s the point of having good insurance if you’re not going to fit me in?”

Me: “We only have one provider here today, and there’s only so many people she can see. The same goes for next week, as well.”

Patient: “So knock someone!”

Me: “I’m not going to do that, sir.”

Patient: “UGH! Forget this!”

(He called back forty minutes later to have a similar conversation with my coworker and then threw a large fit that she didn’t have anything until the end of January due to the influx of calls. The weird part is that there’s another dermatology office in the same city, and another in the next city 20 minutes away, so he had options.)

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Router Problems? Nailed It!

, , , , | Right | January 9, 2020

(My dad has worked for about ten years in tech support for several companies. He is currently working at a company that sets up Internet routers. He’s taking customer calls.) 

Dad: “[Company], this is [Dad]; what can I do for you?”

Secretary: “Our Internet isn’t working.”

Dad: *gets router number and begins asking questions* “All right, are all of the lights on the box on? Are any blinking?”

Secretary: “There aren’t any lights on.” 

Dad: “Have you made sure that the box is plugged in?” 

Secretary: “Yes, it’s plugged in.” 

Dad: “Okay, let’s try resetting it. Go ahead and hold the power button down.”

Secretary: “There isn’t a power button on this box.”

Dad: “There should be a large blue button under the lid.” 

Secretary: “I can’t open the lid; it’s nailed closed.”

Dad: “It’s nailed closed?”

Secretary: “Yeah, the nail is holding it closed. I can’t open it. Can you just send someone to fix it?”

(My dad didn’t know what more to do, so he sent someone to look at the box. When they got to the office, they found that the box was not plugged in, but that wasn’t the biggest problem. It wasn’t plugged in because they had placed it too high on the wall to reach the outlet. It was nailed onto the wall; that is, there was a giant building nail going straight through the center of the router. Whoever managed this office decided the router was getting in the way so they nailed it to the wall. My dad is very happy not to work in tech support any longer.)

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