Carrie 3: Disaster In The Deli

, , , | Right | July 14, 2008

Me: “Hi, welcome to [Restaurant]. What can I get get you?”

Customer: “Yeah, which of these sandwiches are five dollars?”

Me: “Just these eight behind me.”

(I point to a very large sign that has a giant “5” on it and a list of our five dollar foot-long subs.)

Customer: “Oh, okay…”

(She gives me the order of three subs and I make them.)

Me: “Okay, that’ll be $20.47.”

Customer: “What?! Why the h*** are they that expensive? You said that they were five dollars!!”

(By this time all the yelling she’s doing has turned her face blood red; this is important for later in the story.)

Me: “Well, yes, those eight over there. All three of the ones you ordered are not.”

Customer: “That’s not true! I got them off the board you told me about!”

(She points at the board NEXT to the one I talked about which lists our six-inch subs.)

Me: “No, ma’am, that’s our six inch board. The one next to it with the GIANT FIVE on it are the five dollar subs.”

Customer: “Well, aren’t you a f***ing carnival weasel! You said those were five dollars!”

Me: “I’m sorry for the misunderstanding– Wait, did you just call me a carnival weasel?”

Customer: “YOU HEARD ME, CAAARNIVAAL WEEASELLLL!”

Me: “All right. Well, ma’am, I’m getting a line here so would you just like me to remake your sandwiches so we can move?”

Customer: “F*** YOU!”

(She suddenly gets a massive nose bleed which gets all over the counter and the floor. As she storms out cursing and bleeding, the customers applaud and even help me clean it up before ordering. )

Coworker: “She called you a carnival weasel!”

Me: “Yeeeaah. Well, have fun with that…”

(I still see that lady every now and then come up to the door, see me, turn around, and leave.)

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Not Always Right On So Many Levels

, , | Right | July 8, 2008

(A customer on crutches starts screaming racist epithets at her cashier.)

Disabled Customer: “You god-d*** n*****! You b****! How could you do that to me?! This is discrimination!”

Cashier: *totally shocked*

(I walk over right away. Keep in mind, I’m white.)

Me: “Ma’am, I’m sorry you’re upset, but could you please watch your language? There are children here. Now, I’d be ha–”

Disabled Customer: “Y’all hate people with disabilities! F*** the children! And f*** you, you n*****! I’m calling corporate!”

Me: “If that’s what you want to do, ma’am, I can’t stop you.”

Disabled Customer: “D*** right you can’t, you black b****!”

(She suddenly throws down her “crutches” and very easily walks out of the store.)

Another Customer: “Wait, did she just call you black?”

(She did end up calling the corporate office, but it was dismissed because she kept calling the operator a sand monkey and saying that she was going to burn in h*** for stealing white people’s jobs. To do this day, whenever we get bored we play with her crutches in the back stock room.)

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Goodwill Running Out About… Now

, , | Right | July 4, 2008

Me: “Thank you for calling [Hotels] Inns and Suites. How may I help you tonight?”

Customer: “Yes, my plane was delayed, so I need to cancel my reservation in Vegas and get a room here.”

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that, sir. Let me look that up for you.”

(I take his information, call the hotel, and talk them into canceling the reservation even though their policy said he should have had to pay for it because of the short notice. I put in the extra effort because I felt bad for the guy.)

Me: “Okay, sir, I’ve taken care of that and made you a new reservation at a hotel there. Your total for the room is going to be $89.”

Customer: “But my flight was delayed and I had to cancel my other reservation. My stay should be free!”

Me: “Well, you’ll have to check with the airline. They should pay for all or part of your hotel stay.”

Customer: “They told me you’d pay for it.”

Me: “Sir, I’m sorry, but I’m not sure why they would have told you that. The airline is responsible for the delay. We are not and we can’t give you a free stay. You’re going to have to talk to them.”

Customer: “Look, you’re going to give me a f****ing free night in the f****ing hotel here. You have to. My flight was canceled.”

Me: “Sir, I have to ask you not to curse at me. I will terminate the call.”

Customer: “Look, b****–” *click*

(I received five or six hang up calls in the next 30 minutes, which I assume were his attempts to get another agent. Unfortunately for him, I was the only person working after midnight. I no longer felt bad for him.)

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From Parallel To Perpendicular

, | Right | July 2, 2008

(In our hospital sleep lab, we have a bunch of rooms with beds for people to sleep on. Every room is monitored and recorded with a video camera so we can watch the patients while they’re sleeping. One day, my daughter’s math teacher came in…)

Me: “Hey, Mr. [Teacher]! Let me hook you up and you can get to sleep.”

Teacher: “All right.”

(I hook him up and tell him to try to sleep as quickly as he can. We don’t give our patients sleep medication because that could interfere with their normal sleep habits. As I return to the control room, I hear hysterical laughter.)

Me: “What’s going on?”

Coworker: “Who did you say that guy was?”

Me: “Oh! My daughter’s math teacher at her high school.”

(Everyone laughs harder.)

Me: “What is going on??”

(My coworker points to the screen showing Mr. [Teacher]’s room. He’s masturbating.)

Me, over the intercom: “MR. [Teacher], PLEASE! You are being recorded!”

Teacher: “But you said to go to sleep as fast as I can!”

Me: “That’s not appropriate!”

Teacher: “Well, fine! I guess a man can’t get any privacy when he’s trying to sleep! YOU’RE inappropriate! Why the h*** were you watching me?!” *gets dressed and storms out of the hospital*

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Caught Brown Handed

, , , | Right | June 30, 2008

(In the Chinese restaurant where I work, we have little bottles of soy sauce on every table. They look like they’re tightly closed, but the top actually doesn’t close at all. A lady and her daughter finish dinner and are leaving.)

Me: “Excuse me, madam, but I’m afraid the soy sauce is restaurant property. You can’t take it.”

Mother: “You calling me a thief? I want to speak to the manager! This will cost you your job, you little b****!”

Daughter: “Um, mum…”

Me: “The manager is not in right now, but if you want the sauce, it’s on sale at the front of the restaurant.”

Mother: “You’ve got some nerve! I never even touched your stinking sauce, you c***! Call the manager now!”

(Several customers are starting to giggle and the daughter looks like she’s about to die.)

Me: “Maybe you have taken the sauce without noticing? Because I’m sure you touched it at some point.”

Mother: “You’re sure? I tell you I didn’t touch it! You can’t treat your customers that way! You telling me you’ve been spying on me or something?”

Me: “Certainly not. But the huge brown stain on your purse is hard to ignore.”

(Her daughter dragged her by the arm and they stormed out the front door, leaving a sticky trail of soy sauce from the mother’s cloth purse. I laughed so hard I didn’t even mind them stealing the sauce.)


This story was included in our Chinese Restaurant Roundup.

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