Shops have started to open up after the quarantine, so I treat my family to their first take-away in months. The hype is unbelievable with queues at every store and traffic jams all over the city. It’s like they are giving the food away.

I stop by a walk-in sandwich shop a few days later. Inside, I see two women at the counter who both seem to be in their twenties. As I join the queue, it seems that the first is finished and the second is choosing her salad.

Woman #2: “No salad.”

Worker: “None at all?”

Woman #2: *With heaps of attitude* “Uh, no! Mayo! I want mayo on that.”

Worker: “Mayonnaise, okay.”

Woman #2: “More. More!”

The worker dutifully fills the sandwich with mayonnaise; at this point, it looks more like cake frosting. A thick layer covers nearly all of the meat and cheese. It looks disgusting and I must be staring, as the second woman glares at me.

Woman #2: “Hey, [Woman #1], you want a cookie?”

She glares at me again.

Woman #1: “Yeah, get me one.”

Woman #2: *Insincerely* “Oh, no! They only have six left! Oh, well, some people won’t be getting any at all.”

She looks at me like she has won some grand scheme.

Woman #2: “Give me allll six.”

They leave, cackling. I turn to the other worker to pay, utterly bemused.

Worker: “Did you want a cookie? I have more to put out; we didn’t have a chance yet.”

Me: “Not really, thank you. I’m not sure what that was about.”

Worker: “Oh, they come in quite regularly. The one on the left, [Woman #2], scoops the extra mayo out with the cookie and eats it like a dip!”

I got my food and left. I wish I had chosen anything other than mayo.

Related:
A Big Mayo No No, Part 5
A Big Mayo No No, Part 4
A Big Mayo No No, Part 3
A Big Mayo No No, Part 2
A Big Mayo No No

I work in a children’s tuition centre. Whilst many of the parents are lovely, there is one woman who is known for being entitled and rude. Her child has only been coming to the centre for a month. The way our system works is children do one hour of work and then fifteen minutes of play.

Mother: “I want [Son] to do forty-five minutes of play today.”

Coworker: “I’m sorry, madam, but unfortunately, we cannot do that since company—”

Mother: *Cutting her off* “I don’t care. Make it happen.”

She then leaves, leaving her son behind. My coworker writes down the crazy lady’s request, but my manager assumes it is a mistake, due to it being so different from our usual timings, and changes it to forty-five minutes work and thirty minutes play. Then, when the mother comes to pick her son up, there is a queue of a few other families waiting to pick their kids up.

Mother: *Coming up to the desk* “Why the h*** wasn’t I served first? I shouldn’t have to wait to pick my son up!”

Coworker: “I’m sorry, madam, but those people got here before you and—”

Mother: *Cutting her off* “I shouldn’t have to wait for them! I should be served first! I’m a very busy and important person!”

Coworker: “I’m very sorry. Let me get your son.”

We collect him.

Son: “Mummy! They made me do forty-five minutes of work!”

The mother goes crazy upon hearing this, calling my coworker a plethora of insulting names, whilst yelling, scaring some of the younger children in the centre. This causes my assistant director to come out of the office.

Assistant Director: “What seems to be the matter, madam?”

Mother: “This stupid, useless girl got my son’s timings wrong! He was supposed to do forty-five minutes of play!”

My coworker is near tears at this point.

Assistant Director: “I apologise, madam; that was my fault. I changed those times since it is against company policy for children to spend that long—”

Mother: *Turning on him* “You incompetent idiot! How dare you?! I’m a paying customer and you should be doing what I say! I want to speak with [Director] right now!”

Assistant Director: “[Director] is on holiday right now. She will be back in—”

Mother: “I don’t care! Give me her phone number!”

Assistant Director: “I cannot give you her phone number because that would be against company privacy pol—”

Mother: “I don’t care about your company policies! Give me her d*** number! Or are you such an incompetent manager that you can’t even do that?!”

He is now fed up with this woman.

Assistant Director: “Madam, I don’t appreciate the way you are speaking to me or my employees. We are not paid to be insulted by you. I will not stand for being called incompetent and other rude things. Please leave our centre before I cancel your membership.”

Mother: “How dare you be so rude?! I will be calling your head office and I will be coming back tomorrow to get [Director] to cancel my son’s membership! I can’t believe you people are allowed to work in childcare!”

Assistant Director: “As I told you madam, [Director] will not be here tomorrow as she is on holiday. I will cancel your membership for you now. Please do not come back or I will be forced to call security.”

The woman then squealed and stormed off with her son. My assistant director cancelled her membership and made a note that she should not be allowed to rejoin. We were all very glad to see her go. The craziest part is that this woman was paying £100+ a month for our tutoring services and didn’t even want her son to be tutored!

People are wild.

Related:
The Playtime That Never Dies

I work in collections for a company that provides equipment finance to other businesses. One morning, I receive the following call.

Me: “Good morning, [Company]. How may I help you?”

Customer: “I’m the accounts manager at [Business] and you’ve charged too much on our rentals!”

Me: “I’m sorry about that. Let me look up your account and see what’s happened.”

I pull up the customer’s details, but the only charges on there are their rentals, which match their documents.

Me: “Can you confirm how much has been charged?”

Customer: “£240! My rentals should be £200!”

In the UK, most goods and services are subject to a 20% tax. It’s common for the net amount to be shown on rental documents and business invoices.

Me: “The amount on your documents doesn’t include the VAT, so this is where the extra amount has come from.”

Customer: “I don’t want to pay it!”

Me: “As this is a lease agreement, I’m afraid it is subject to VAT.”

Customer: “I’m not happy! Who said you could charge me this?”

Me: “The government?”

Customer: “Well, until you send them round to speak to me, I’m not paying it!” *Hangs up*

Me: “I’ll get right on that.”

Related:
Taxing Taxing, Part 7
Taxing Taxing, Part 6
Taxing Taxing, Part 5
Taxing Taxing, Part 4
Taxing Taxing, Part 3

I work at a retail store for a major telecom company in the UK. We sell both prepaid sims and contracts, and we are not commission-based. Our goal is usually to ensure that customers get the best value for their money. A lot of customers feel, however, that contract sims equal money stealing, despite the fact that direct debit standards placed by the Financial Conduct Authority and OFCOM mean that I would literally lose my job if I tried that.

I had the cream of the crop today, though.

An old lady wants to top up her phone, so we sit down and she gives me her number. The moment I enter her number to top up her account, her top-up history loads up.

Me: “I notice you’ve topped up £10 thrice in the past month with us. That’s a lot of money. What do you use your phone for?”

Customer: “Just calling and texting.”

Me: “Well, you’re clearly calling and texting a lot. There are contracts from £7 a month that would give you unlimited texts and calls; it would be far cheaper for you.”

Customer: *Shaking her head angrily* “NO DIRECT DEBITS! I ONLY PAY FOR WHAT I USE THE PHONE FOR! I don’t use the phone for Internet.”

Me: “You’ll still be paying us for what you use the phone for, but you’re saving at least a quarter of your bill every month. This plan doesn’t include Internet. I wouldn’t offer Internet based on your phone, anyway.”

I motion to her tiny button phone. She snatches her purse from the table.

Customer: “I only top up once every few months. Your system is lying.”

Me: “…”

Customer: “All I want is a £10 top-up! Your money-grabbing schemes will never work on me!”

I top up the account with a shrug.

Me: “Sure. See you in ten days.”

She glared at me as she left the shop. But I bet I’ll see her again in a week and we’re going to have the exact conversation again.

I work in a popular store where everything costs the same price. It is quite a small store: three aisles wide by two aisles deep.

Today, there are about four of us working in the back three aisles. A larger man staggers into the shop and clocks me.

Customer: *In a very loud voice* “Excuse me, love! Can you tell me where you keep those incest sticks?”

My three colleagues scattered and dissolved into giggles in the next aisles. I tried my hardest to keep a straight face while guiding him to the aisle that housed the candles and, of course, the incense sticks.