The Demands Fell Right In His Lap

, , , , , , | Right | July 20, 2018

(I am a customer in this one, at a popular pizza chain with a friend. We have spent the day shopping and are getting a bite for dinner. There is a family at the next table across from us, and the husband is kicking off at everything. When they order drinks he screams at the waitress because he says she got his order wrong. He keeps saying they got things wrong or that they’ve had to wait for a long time — it is Friday night and it is the dinner time rush — and he just keeps being really rude. It is obvious he is just trying to eat for free, because he keeps saying he ordered something different when we and his wife know they’ve brought exactly what he ordered. The wife is sitting there, just getting so pissed off, begging him to be quiet. She keeps trying to correct him, saying, “But that’s what you ordered,” but he keeps telling her to shut up.)

Wife: “Will you stop making a scene? I just wanted a nice family dinner.”

Husband: “Shut up! When I come for a meal and pay this much for a bit of bread with some cheese and tomato on it, which probably only cost them a few pennies, I demand nothing less than perfection!”

(The waitress heads over with refills the husband ordered. She looks close to tears; the guy has gotten nastier as the night progresses, and has begun to call her names. Even the manager is keeping close by, ready to chuck him out, but he waits. The waitress is in such a rush to get him his drink so he can finish and go that she trips just as she gets to the table, and the glasses clatter over on the table near the husband. Luckily, most of the liquid misses him and he only gets a few splotches on his knee, but that is it. He explodes in a fit of rage. The manager comes over when he starts shouting obscenities. The wife looks so fed up, angry, and embarrassed.)

Manager: “I’m sorry, sir, but I’m going to have to ask you to keep it down and watch your language; this is a family restaurant. I’ll make sure all your drinks are free, and throw in free desserts for everyone. Just please keep calm. If you have any problems I’ll be happy to help.”

Husband: “The service has been s*** all night. I want all my meal for free! I shouldn’t have to pay for this s***!”

Manager: “I can’t promise that, but I’ll see what I can do.”

(The husband seems calmer, and he smiles as the waitress and the manager bustle off to get him new drinks and desserts. The wife is just steaming.)

Husband: “You wait; I’ll get our entire meal for free.”

(The wife just sits there fuming. Their poor kids just look unhappy because everyone in the restaurant is staring and muttering about their dad. The waitress comes over with drinks and very carefully sets them down. The husband says nothing. Then, the wife takes his soda with lots of ice in it and just tips it into his lap, very slowly. The poor waitress looks horrified, but everyone in the restaurant cheers.)

Wife: “Bring us the bill; we’ll pay for it all. I’m really sorry.”

(The wife reaches into her purse and hands the waitress a £20 note.)

Wife: “That’s for you. Hardly enough for putting up with his s*** all evening, but at least you only have to put up with it tonight. I’ve had to live with this a**hole for ten years now.”

(I’ve always hated creeps who go to a restaurant angling to get a free meal. It was nice to see one get his comeuppance. I just hope the wife divorced him. I know I would have.)

Ringing Some Alarm Bells

, , , , , , , | Right | July 19, 2018

(I work for a retail company specializing in high-quality body jewelry. We operate out of stores and kiosks located in malls. This customer browses our kiosk on a relatively quiet Wednesday night, about 15 minutes before closing. NOTE: she has no visible piercings, and is dressed in jeans and a t-shirt.)

Me: *specific but friendly company greeting* “How are you tonight?”

Customer: “I need a new ring.” *playing on phone*

Me: “Great! Were you looking for a ring for a piercing, or a finger ring?”

Customer: *seemingly disinterested* “I don’t know! Just a ring!”

Me: “Okay, unfortunately we don’t carry finger rings here but—”

Customer: *slams phone on counter* “Why do you keep talking about finger rings?! I obviously need piercing rings!”

Me: “I apologize for the confusion. All right then, what gauge—” *girth of jewelry* “—are you looking for?”

Customer: “Uh… I don’t remember.”

Me: “No worries; that happens all the time. If you have a spare piece of jewelry, you can always bring it in and we can measure that one. Or you can remove your current piece in the bathroom and bring it to us.”

Customer: “I only have the one piece of jewelry! I don’t want to take it out unless I know I have a new one. Can’t you just measure it yourself?”

Me: *reluctant because it’s not recommended* “I can try, but only if it’s a clearly accessible piercing. There’s a lot of kids in here, and anything we show must be kid-friendly.”

(I turn to grab my callipers and hear a zipper unzip loudly. I spin back around to find my customer sitting on the floor, attempting to take off her skinny jeans in the middle of the mall hallway.)

Me: *alarmed* “Ma’am, please don’t take your pants off!”

Customer: “But you need to see the piercing!!”

Me: “Ma’am, where exactly is this piercing?”

Customer: “Well, obviously, one of those!” *points into her jeans*

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I told you it has to be easily accessible and basically child-appropriate. I can’t have you remove or show that piercing in the mall.”

Customer: “Oh, please! They’ll all know what it is soon enough. Just measure this!” *begins unzipping again*

Me: *firmly* “Ma’am, I need you to stop. I cannot help you with this today. You can either take the piece out and bring it inside a sealed ziplock bag, or you can phone your piercer and ask if he knows the gauge.”

Customer: *pleading* “Please? Just this once? I’m so excited for a new piece!”

Me: “I’m genuinely sorry, but those are your only options.”

Customer: *disappointed* “Oh, man, okay. I guess I’ll just come back tomorrow, and then you can put the new piece in for me!”

(She turned and walked away before I could point out that we were in the middle of a hallway next to the food court, and beside a number of children’s stores. There was no way we could do jewelry changes at my location. It was now twelve minutes AFTER closing. She returned again three separate times more to argue the point with managers.)


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Not An Employee, But Employees Wish They Could Do That

, , , , | Right | July 18, 2018

(I’m an employee in a supermarket. One of our regulars is an autistic young man who is tall, wide, and built like a wrestler. He also has some unique social quirks, the main one being his mood; he’s either very social, friendly, helpful, and attentive, or just in a plain bad mood. He also has the habit of dressing in shirts from various animes, and a red vest which has a darker shade of red than the employee shirts; this causes some customers to confuse him for an employee, despite his vest lacking the store logo. Here’s one of the situations we had with him. He’s choosing fruit to buy, and he’s having a bad mood day.)

Customer: “Excuse me. These apples look rotten.”

Regular: “Not an employee.”

Customer: “What do you mean? You’re wearing a red shirt; go get me fresh apples!”

(He finishes choosing his fruits and walks over to the next aisle. The lady follows him and starts to get angry, so I head over.)

Customer: “Hey, don’t ignore me! Do your work!”

Me: “Ma’am, he’s not an employee. I’ll help you with your apples. Now, please stop shouting and don’t make him angry.”

Customer: “I don’t care! He should be polite to customers!”

(She gets fed up and swings her purse at him, which he catches and yanks from her hands before flinging it over the wall into another aisle. He turns to the lady, red-faced, eyes narrowed, and breathing heavily.)

Regular: “NOT. AN. EMPLOYEE!”

(He calmed down pretty much instantly and continued his shopping. The next time I saw him, he was in his good mood, and he came right over to me and apologized for five minutes about causing a scene.)


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Cut In Line And I’ll Cut You Down

, , , , | Friendly | July 18, 2018

(I am waiting in line at the supermarket with my husband and my bad shoulder is a bit painful. I have arthritis and when it’s acting up, I am not very comfortable in crowded spaces because people tend to bump into me and the pain will get worse. There are about five other people in line before us. The woman behind me keeps bumping into me and pushing me. I think it is accidental at first. I tell her to be careful, and that because of my arthritis in my shoulder, it is really painful.)

Woman: “I really don’t care! It’s not my problem!’

(Less than a minute later, she pushes again, but much harder. I move to the side, holding my shoulder in pain, and by the time I turn to her, she has already taken my place in line.)

Me: “What do you think you’re doing? You know pushing me out of the way won’t get you to the cashier faster.”

(She looks at me for a second and turns her head back to ignore me. My husband, who is still in line in front of her, has turned around and is glaring at her. She is trying to ignore him at first, but when she realises that it is not working, she tells him that I was the one trying to cut in front of her! He just laughs it off and keeps staring at her. She starts to look offended. I step next to her and tap on her shoulder to get her attention.)

Woman: “What do you want?”

Me: “I told you that pushing me was not going to get you to the cashier faster!”

(She is not moving and even has an irate look on her face.)

Me: “He’s my husband! Go back to your place!”

(The woman turned bright red and stepped back in line behind me. I heard a few people laugh, and noticed they were all looking at her. I was in a lot of pain, but after putting someone back in their place like that, I had a smirk on my face!)

Screaming Children Have Their Ups And Downs

, , , , | Related | July 16, 2018

(I am with my family at an amusement park, and we are queuing to get on a log flume. There are three to a log, so it’s my younger brother in front, stepmum at the back, and me in the middle. This log flume is three steadily escalating hills. We go up the first hill with no problem… or so I think:)

Younger Brother: *who has learning difficulties* “That was horrible; I’m glad it’s over.”

Me: “Uh… We have two more to go through.”

(We started up the second hill. My brother started yelling that he wanted to get off. Once we went down that hill, he started trying to stand up and get off. My stepmum, behind me, was trying to force him down into his seat. Eventually, we went down the last hill, and the picture after was basically my screaming, crying brother trying to get off, my screaming stepmother trying to force him to sit down, and me in the middle with this, “Oh, for f***’s sake,” look on my face.)

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