(A customer comes in and throws a bag of food at me.)

Customer: “It’s f****** cold! Your chicken is terrible and the bun is stale!”

Me: “Uh, this is–”

Customer: “No, shut up! You guys always f*** me over; you’re not getting away with it today!”

Me: “You didn’t–”

Customer: “Fine! Get your manager, if you won’t help me. Enjoy being fired, a**wipe!”

Another Customer: “You’re at [Fast Food Place], mate. You bought your food from [Rival Store], next door.”

Customer: “Oh.” *awkward silence* “Can I have that bag back?”

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(I’m a female. I’ve recently shaved my head for charity.)

Customer’s Son: “Mum, there’s a boy-lady!”

Customer: *distracted* “Is there darling?”

Customer’s Son: “Yes, at the counter.”

(The mother glares at me.)

Customer: “I see.”

Customer’s Son: “Can I be a boy-lady?”

Customer: “No. No, you cannot.”

(They finish what they’re doing and as they’re leaving the mother calls me over.)

Customer: “I don’t care what you do at home, but if you want to pass for female in public, buy a d*** wig. You’re corrupting the kids!”

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(I’m a new waiter and I’m alone during an afternoon shift when a customer calls.)

Customer: “I’m [Customer]. I’d like to order my usual for takeaway.”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, I’m new. Could you tell me what you would like to order?”

Customer: “My usual.”

Me: “I don’t know what that is, sir.”

Customer: “Just tell the kitchen that it’s for [Customer]. They’ll know what it is.”

Me: “Okay, but just in case they don’t know, could you tell me what your usual is?”

Customer: “Oh, they’ll know. I’m a regular.”

(He hangs up. Fifteen minutes later a man turns up in the restaurant.)

Customer: “I’m [Customer]. I ordered my usual over the phone.”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, the kitchen staff don’t know what your usual is so they weren’t able to make it.”

Customer: “But I’m a regular! They know who I am.”

Me: “They don’t. They cook whatever we tell them to cook. They never interact with the customers. If you would like to tell me what your usual is I could place your order.”

Customer: “Never mind.”

(The customer left. Later, I told the manager what happened. The manager laughed and said that that particular customer always ordered his usual which was whatever dish the staff member chose for him.)

(A Native Canadian customer comes into the store with five small children.)

Customer: “Why do the deluxe and the Hawaiian pizza cost the same? One has more toppings!”

Me: “To be honest, I’m not really sure. That’s just the way the company works, I guess.”

Customer: “Well, can I get a discount for the Hawaiian, then? It has five less toppings!”

Me: “Sorry, ma’am, but I can’t do that.”

Customer: *long pause* “You’re a cruel person.”

Me: “Come again?”

Customer: “Your people come here, give diseases, kill us all, steal our land, put our children in residential schools, and now this!”

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Customer: “Can you help me, please?”

Me: “Yes, of course. What can I do for you?”

Customer: “Well, I want to buy some food for my cat, but mine doesn’t look like the one on the packet. Can I still feed it to him?”

Me: “Yes, sir, of course.”

Customer: “Wow, really? Thanks!”

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