My partner and I are visiting a tourist attraction near where my grandparents live. Here there are some tunnels with historical significance, built in the Napoleonic wars and used in WWII. There are some rules in place to protect these tunnels, as there are in most places.

On the first tour, we catch up to a woman and overhear her being reminded not to take photos. She has that surprised look that says, “I didn’t see any of the signs or hear the tannoy announcement at all,” which makes us both roll our eyes and chuckle.

On the next tour, we find that she is in our group.

Tour Guide: “Everything is set out as it would have been in 1943, and although it may be tempting, please do not touch anything as it is covered with a protective sealant. It will not harm you, but if you then happen to put your fingers in your mouth, it will then give you a very upset tummy.”

Woman: “You should just tell them they will die; that will stop them from touching anything.”

And bless the tour guide, he plays along nicely.

Tour Guide: “Yes, you will all die a horrible death; do not touch. Also, please stick to the path that we walk and follow me; some rooms are alarmed so do not be tempted to wander off. There are four miles of tunnels, so if you get lost, it may be a few hours or even days before you are found.”

Woman: “You’ll die if you wander off; that will stop them.”

Tour Guide: “Yes, you will fall into a trap door and die. Let’s get started, shall we?”

As we end the tour, we’ve noticed that this woman has attempted to touch things and even wandered off at some points. She’s been the only person to do this, which makes us both laugh at the absurdity. It appears the tour guide noticed, as well.

Tour Guide: “That was the end of our tour; thank you for joining us. And to you, missy, I noticed you’d have died at least twice, touching the plates of food, and—”

Woman: *Cutting him off* “But it looked so real! I just wanted to know if it was real!”

Tour Guide: “And wandering off into other rooms!”

Woman: “I just wanted to know what was in there!”

Tour Guide: “To all that survived this tour, have a safe journey home. And to all that died on this tour, I hope it’s peaceful. Thank you.”

I am a supervisor at an outdoor botanical garden and have been summoned by my staff who are dealing with a difficult customer. It is a hot summer day in Texas.

Me: “Hi, ma’am, what can I help you with?”

Customer: “I want a refund.”

Me: “Unfortunately, we have a no refund/no exchange policy. May I ask why you want a refund?”

Customer: “I was only in there for a few minutes and it’s hot in there.”

Me: “Ma’am, it’s the same temperature in the garden that it is outside of the garden. Everything is outdoors. The outdoor temperature is out of our control.”

Customer: “So you won’t give me a refund?”

Me: “Unfortunately, I can’t.”

The customer stormed off.

I am a supervisor at a local tourist spot as a food services supervisor, and we have a few different food outlets in the park. Near the very end of the day, a lady comes up to our fish and chips window.

Customer: “I want a four-piece chicken strip combo. I want it split four ways for my four children.

Coworker: “Sure! Since the combo just comes with small fries, that means each of those four portions will include just one chicken strip and a few fries.”

He repeats it a couple of times, but she impatiently tells him that is okay. You can probably see where this is going. When she comes to pick up her order, she is irate.

Customer: “I wanted each of those portions to have at least two strips and small fries!”

She wants all of this, even though she is only willing to pay the price of a single combo. She screams at my coworker, telling him he is incompetent and all kinds of things.

The fish and chips place is in a remote location from the main kitchen, so there is no manager there, just supervisors. She isn’t willing to pay more, though, and my coworker isn’t about to make her more chicken strips and fries for free, so finally he tells her:

Coworker: “This outlet is now closed and if you have any more issues you should take it up with the manager.”

The customer left and he closed the shutter, but then she came around to the side door of the building and screamed at him some more.

Even when they closed the door, she waited for them and followed them across the park when they walked back to the main kitchen… where they were able to meet up with the manager and she was asked to leave the park.

We don’t allow meal-splitting anymore. If customers want something split, we’ll give them plates and knives and they can do their own portions.

Related:
Making Multiple Meals Out Of It

I have a side-hustle on my days off. My job in an oilfield has a rotational schedule where I work two weeks and then get two weeks off. I make plenty of money at my job, but it doesn’t hurt to make a little extra cash.  

I am, in essence, a tour guide for the region I live in. I don’t have any planned tours, but usually, I just take people to see neat places that they would not know about or think to go to.

I am adamant about getting paid up front. Customers sign an agreement that guarantees to protect my truck from messes or damage. So far, I have never had any issues, fortunately, and people always enjoy the places I show them.

Except for one family. 

They seem friendly enough when they sign the contract and I collect my fee. Once money changes hands with this family, the attitude changes; they begin treating me like I am a second-class citizen.

I drive them around to some of the most beautiful scenery I can find. People are often left speechless by these places and never have I seen someone not be impressed. Until now. Every place I show them just seems to disappoint them. I can’t deny that I am a little offended by their indifference, but whatever, I have my money.

When I get back to town and drop them off at their hotel, it gets interesting.

Customer: “You can just park in the back and leave the keys at the desk. Tell them they are for the [Customer’s Last Name] family.”

Me: “I’m sorry, what?”

Customer: “This truck, just park it in the back. We might use it later.”

Me: “This is my truck. I’m not leaving it here; that’s not part of the deal.”

Customer: “Oh, please, there is no way you can own a vehicle like this. It obviously belongs to your company.”

Me: “I do this job self-employed, on my days off from my regular job. I assure you, this is my truck. I can show you my name on the title.”

Customer: “Young man, if you don’t do as you’re told, I will be forced to call your boss.”

I am thirty.

Me: “You mean me? I am my boss.”

Customer: “Okay, smart a**, get your boss on the phone, right now!” 

I think about just driving off but then have a better idea. I call my supervisor at my real job. He’s been in the oilfield for fourteen years and can be quite the cusser. He knows what I do on my days off and even sends people my way sometimes. He answers and I just say:

Me: “One of my clients is demanding to speak with my boss, so here she is.”

I hand the customer my phone.

Customer: *Sounding smug* “I tried to tell your driver to leave the truck here so we could use it, but he lied and said he owns it—”

I can hear him yelling.

Boss: “ARE YOU F****** STUPID?”

I don’t discern anything else, but I know he gives her a good thrashing. She just walks to the window and hands me my phone.

Customer: “He wants to talk to you.”

She then walks away.

Boss: “That fix your problem?”

Me: “Yeah, thanks, [Boss].”

Boss: “Anytime, brother.”

Related:
Absolutely Trucking Mad, Part 3
Absolutely Trucking Mad, Part 2
Absolutely Trucking Mad

This story is part of our Best Of October 2020 roundup!

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Read the Best Of October 2020 roundup!

My wife and I are from Manchester, England. We’re doing a mini world-tour as part of our honeymoon. We are in Iceland and visiting a natural hot spring. The place is amazing, basically, a large pond pouring with steam, a river running next to it also pouring with steam and then a load of smaller bubbling pools of water and mini geysers that would blast water into the air every ten minutes or so.

Between the pond and the river there is a roped-off area of small, deep pools that has a sign:

Sign: “Warning water is over 90 degrees. Do not enter at your own risk.”

This is probably a bad translation of ‘no entry, we accept no liability.’

We’re leaning against the side of the pond closest to this and notice a guy wander up, read the sign then step over the rope. As he’s walking up to one of the small pools the lifeguard is running over and shouting.

Lifeguard: “Stop, stop! You can’t go in there!”

An American accent replies:

Tourist: “Whatever buddy, I paid, so I can do whatever I want.”

By this time the lifeguard has reached him and tries to explain to him.

Lifeguard: “That the water is between 90 and 110 degrees! You walked right past a do not enter sign.”

Tourist: “No, it says enter at my own risk, so I am, and it’s not very risky. It’s hotter than 90 degrees in Nevada every day!”

This utterly perplexes the lifeguard who has absolutely no idea what the h*** the American is talking about. So I shout over.

Me: “Oi, mate, it’s Celsius, not Fahrenheit!”

Now the American looks confused.

Tourist: “I don’t know what that is, I’m going in.”

For reference, 90-110c is 194-230f.

Then follows about five more minutes of arguing between the American and the lifeguard before the American has had enough and takes the two steps further to the pool, and goes to put his foot in. Fortunately for him but unfortunately for Darwinism he only manages to dip a toe before screaming in pain and hopping back to the changing room in a huff.

The lifeguard sighs and goes back to his chair.

Me: “What a f****** divvy.”