(I work for a popular chicken restaurant that is well-known across the country for giving out free food if people complain. When it first opened in New Orleans, the locals caught on to this quickly, and many times took advantage of the system. I am working a quiet shift one evening when a guest approaches the counter and says he doesn’t like an item he ordered, gives it back to me, and asks for his money back. I apologize and refund him the $4.00. As he came to the front to throw away his trash after finishing his meal, I notice that he has a young daughter, and his wife is carrying their baby, who is crying very loudly. I comment that their baby is precious, and the father just rolls his eyes and says:)

Customer: “Yeah, God makes them cute on purpose, so you put up with them when they do this!”

(I thank them and tell them to have a good night. A few days later, I get a phone call:)

Me: “Thank you for calling [Restaurant]. How may I serve you?

Caller: “Yes, my family and I were eating in your restaurant earlier this week, and we had an emergency and had to leave the restaurant with our food, and it was all horrible! We couldn’t even eat any of it. The fries were cold, the chicken wasn’t cooked all the way through, all of our drinks were like water, and worst of all was the wrap! I demand that you give us all of our money back, immediately!”

Me: “Well, I’m sorry to hear that, sir. Could you give me your receipt number so that I may look up your order?”

Caller: *gives me the number* “This is outrageous! You better refund every penny, or I am going to sue you! My children didn’t even get dinner!”

Me: “Sir, why didn’t you come back to the restaurant, or even call us that evening to tell us about the problem? Why did you wait five days?”

Caller: “I TOLD YOU! WE HAD AN EMERGENCY AND HAD TO LEAVE! IF YOU DON’T REFUND ALL OF MY MONEY, I WILL CALL ALL THE NEWS STATIONS AND TELL THEM WHAT A TERRIBLE COMPANY YOU ARE! I WILL CALL THE BETTER BUSINESS BUREAU, AND I WILL HAVE YOUR RESTAURANT SHUT DOWN!”

Me: “Well, sir, my boss would need to speak with you about a refund, and he’s not in at the moment, but he should be back in about five minutes. Could I take your number and have him call you back?”

Caller: *gives me his name and number* “I am on my way to you right now, anyway, so you better have my money ready when I get there!”

(The next 15 minutes are spent with my boss and me looking through receipts and our video surveillance to discover that this guy is the one who had me give him a refund on his wrap. I physically watched him and his family eat all of their food IN the restaurant before they left. The guy shows up with his young daughter in tow. My boss pulls him aside and speaks to him, while I wait across the counter where he won’t notice me.)

Boss: “Could I just get some contact details for you? I may need to mail you a check for the refund, since it’s been so long since you were with us.”

(The customer starts writing down his mailing address.)

Boss: “So, you said you had to leave suddenly and had to take all of your food with you?”

Customer: “Yes! That’s what I told the girl on the phone! This is ridiculous. Don’t you people listen? Just give me back my $45.00 right now or I am going to start trouble!”

Boss: “Well, see, here’s the issue. I just pulled up your receipt, and it says that you received a refund on your wrap. Do you remember that?”

Customer: “Uh… Yes. But still! We left right after that, and all the other food was bad! Soggy, cold fries and stale buns. Even my daughter’s chicken nuggets were raw!”

Boss: “So, you’re saying you didn’t eat any of it in the restaurant, at all?”

Customer: “Are you not listening to me? I TOLD YOU WE HAD AN EMERGENCY AND TOOK THE FOOD WITH US!”

Boss: “Hmmm. Well, that’s odd. Because my manager over there—” *points to me* “—says she saw you eat all of your food and throw away your garbage. She even commented on your baby as you were leaving. Do you remember that?”

(I just smile and wave at the guy, and his jaw drops open as he knows he has been caught.)

Boss: “Tell you what. I’m going to ask you to leave my business, and don’t ever come back. As long as you do that, I’m not going to call the police. But if you ever come back to my restaurant and try this again, I will call the police. And just to make sure, I’m going to follow you out and copy down your license plate number, as well. Do we have an understanding?”

Customer: “Yes, sir.”

Related:
Refunder Blunder, Part 32
Refunder Blunder, Part 31
Refunder Blunder, Part 30

(We go to a fast food drive-thru. Note for the purpose of the story: my mom is allergic to artificial sweeteners, and cannot have diet soda, whereas I am diabetic and need to drink a diet soda.)

Mom: “I would like a #1 combo with a large diet soda and a #2 combo with a large regular soda, please!”

Worker: *sounding annoyed* “Pull up to the window.”

(We figure she has just had a bad day. Mom pulls up, and the worker hands us two UNLABELED sodas.)

Mom: “Excuse me, miss? Which one of these is the diet and which one is the regular?”

Worker: *completely serious* “I don’t know. I’ll have to taste them.”

Mom: “Uhhh, NO. You’ll redo them. NOW!”

(A passing manager heard the commotion, got the story, and quickly remade our sodas. Then, he apologized and slammed the window shut so he could yell at the worker. My mom and I looked at each other, confused, and then burst out laughing. We did not see that worker again.)

(I am a 911 operator.)

Caller: “There is a bear in my garage.”

Me: “Please confirm your address.” *caller confirms her location*

Caller: “Can you send someone to arrest the bear?”

Me: “I can send a deputy to try and chase him out.”

Caller: “Can you send someone to arrest the bear?”

Me: “Ma’am, bears cannot be arrested.”

Caller: “Why not?”

Me: “Bears are not recognized as criminals under California state law. They do not have the ability to commit crimes. They are wild animals. They behave out of instinct. I will send a deputy to help you remove the bear.”

I am at a popular state-wide gas station chain to buy myself a drink for the road. The store is pretty busy, but there is only one cashier working. By the time I pick my drink out and get in line to pay, the line is five or six people long. The person at the front of the line has a fairly large order.

The cashier repeatedly presses the button to call for her coworker to come get on a register. My dad works in one of these gas stations, so I know that this releases a very long, loud buzzing sound in the stock area. It’s pretty hard to miss, and you can even hear it a bit in the front of the store. Still, there’s no sign of the other employee. At this point, the cashier and customers are starting to go from frustrated to concerned.

Finally, the cashier pulls out her phone and tries calling the employee, but there’s still no response. At this point, a customer ducks out of line and charges into the freezer — an employee-only area, but it’s not like anyone is going to stop him — and emerges a few seconds later, fuming and dragging the second employee by the arm. The cashier proceeds to yell at him. It turns out he was listening to music with earbuds in. Why he didn’t answer his phone, he doesn’t say.

The line splits in half, and I end up second or so in line at the new cashier’s register. He doesn’t speak to any customer and, once my drink is in its bag, proceeds to throw it at me. Too exhausted to do anything about it, I turn around and leave.

As I walk out the door, I hear the guy say, “Can I go back to the freezer, now?” My only regret is that I didn’t stick around to hear the other cashier’s response. A week later, a “Help Wanted” sign showed up on their door… I wonder why!

(My six-year-old niece tells the best stories. My sister-in-law tries to warn me to walk away anytime [Niece] starts a story with, “My body,” but I love her stories.)

Niece: “My body is full of worms. There are worms in my throat and they fill up with blood and I can’t breathe. Then the blood drains out and I’m okay.”

(Another time:)

Niece: “My body is falling apart. My bones are too sharp and they cut my flesh.”

Sister-In-Law: “I think [Niece] needs therapy.”

Me: “What she needs is a dark room and a typewriter! She’ll be the next big horror author!”