I am manning a touch-tank exhibit at the aquarium and overhear this exchange between a mother and a young child:
Mother: “What does the starfish feel like?”
Three-Year-Old Daughter: “Um, uh… strawberries!”
I work at a pet supply store, and on one wall there are some kennels that hold cats the local shelter has for adoption. People who come in constantly walk past the cats just to say hi, regardless of whether they’re looking to adopt.
One day, it’s rather hot in the store, as the climate control is broken. Suddenly, a customer comes up to my register, looking worried.
Customer: “I think there’s something wrong with one of the cats. He’s on his back, and his eyes are rolled up in his head.”
I finished ringing the customers in line through and rushed over to the kennels so I could make sure there was nothing wrong with the cat. Sure enough, there was an orange and white cat on its back, eyes rolled up in its head, and lips twitching a little. I was worried the poor thing might have heat stroke due to the temperature of the store.
The second the key entered the lock, though, kitty was upright and looking around intently, wondering what was going on, with not a single sign of anything wrong.
We all started laughing a little as I gave him a quick check just in case. His temperature was fine, and he was enjoying the attention he was getting as I made sure he was okay.
Kitty wasn’t sick at all, just a really weird sleeper.
My friend related this story to me. He stops by a chain coffee shop that also sells sandwiches and the like. Almost immediately after he’s been handed his order, he notices that there is a smear of what is clearly blood on the bag that his sandwich is in.
He returns to the counter immediately.
Friend: “Excuse me, but there’s blood on my sandwich.”
The cashier does not sound at all surprised or alarmed by this serious health code violation.
Cashier: “Oh, that’s not good! You know, there are a lot of tomatoes that go into our sandwiches; it might just be a bit of tomato.”
Friend: “I know what blood looks like. I’m not eating this.”
Cashier: “Okay, we can make you a new sandwich. We’ll just need to take back the one you don’t want.”
As my friend went to hand back the bloody sandwich, he noticed that the cashier had a bandage on her hand but was not wearing a glove over it, as is expected when you cut yourself doing food prep. Hmm, I wonder where the blood could’ve come from?
His second sandwich was blood-free, and amazingly he still ate it. I’m not sure I would have.
I work at a fast food chain that is known for its double-stacked burgers. It’s my first day, and I’m working the second window, giving people their food. This is the middle of a rush, and we are working as fast as possible.
A customer pulls up and I open my window.
Customer: “MY BROTHER!”
Me: “Welcome to [Fast Food Place]. Here is your order; have a great day.”
Customer: “Wow! That was lightning quick!”
Me: “We call it fast food for a reason. Have a great day.”
It’s a pretty typical situation until he comes back fifteen minutes later, unannounced, skipping the order box and pay window, and coming straight to mine.
Me: “Welcome back to [Fast Food Chain]. Was there a problem with your order?”
Customer: “No man! We just wanted some [Famous Burger Sauce].”
I have no idea what to do, so I yell for a manager. The manager tells the kitchen to get a box of the sauce. As I’m handing him the sauce:
Customer: “Can we have two?”
I yell for another. The manager is literally walking up to me with the other sauce in hand.
Customer: “One is actually enough, bye!”
He then peeled out and sped off. We joked around for the rest of the shift by calling me “MY BROTHER!”
Related:
Getting To The Sauce Of The Problem
I work in a fast food chain, and I am working the second window, giving the people their food. Our machines for drinks are all automated. It is a hot day, and I had just had to replace the cup dispenser.
An order comes in for three large waters. The car pulls up, and I can tell it is nice.
Me: “Welcome to [Fast Food Chain]. Your waters are coming up; I needed to refill the machine.”
The automated drink dispenser does its job, but because it is a new load, the cups are ever-so-slightly damaged with crinkles on them.
Me: “I’m sorry; our machine slightly damaged the cups. They should be fine.”
Customer: “Will they leak?”
Me: “Likely not.”
Customer: “If they do leak, the interior of my car is worth more than your life, and I can get you fired.”
Me: “They should not leak, but if you want me to make three more, it should only take a minute.”
Customer: “No, I do not want to wait here any longer.”
Me: “Okay, have a great day.”
The customer sat in front of my window for the next few minutes pouring the water into bottles, because her time is so valuable that she didn’t just want to get three more.
