That Isn’t Gouda, Part 2

I work at a fast food chain in a small town. We are running a promotion for the gouda burger, and because of a similar appearance to our mozza burger, we try to clarify when they want to order a mozza or the otherwise very clearly marked gouda burger.

An older gentleman walks in and my coworker goes through the introductions.

Coworker: “All right, what can I get for you?”

Customer: *Pointing to screen* “I want two of the mozza burger.”

Coworker: *Punches in the order* “Okay, two mozza burgers.”

He continues to order onion rings and blueberry turnovers, and my coworker reads back the order for accuracy.

Customer: *Smiling* “Yes, that’s correct.”

He pays and I proceed to bag up the items. I call out the order EXACTLY. He walks up, takes his food, and leaves.

Ten minutes later, the phone rings.

Me: “[Store] on [Street]. How can I help you?”

Customer: *Irate* “YOU GUYS F***** UP MY ORDER!”

I don’t know what order it could be.

Me: “I- I’m sorry? Something was wrong with the order?”

Customer: “YEAH! I ORDERED MOZZA BURGERS! THESE AIN’T NO F****** MOZZA BURGERS!”

Me: “Oh! Were you the two mozzas, an order of rings, and a blueberry turnover?”

Customer: “YES! AND I DUNNO WHAT YOU GAVE ME, BUT THESE AREN’T MOZZA BURGERS!”

Me: “Sir, I guarantee you that those two burgers are, in fact, mozza burgers.”

Customer: “WHAT?! NO, NOT F****** MOZZAS! I WANTED GOUDA BURGERS!”

I’m astonished. This man specifically told my colleague he wanted mozzas, agreed that mozzas were correct, responded to mozzas, said I didn’t give him mozzas, and CONFIRMED over the phone with me that he was, in fact, the one who ordered mozzas.

Me: “Sir, the gouda burger is different from the mozza burger, and you’ve even confirmed over the phone and to my colleague that you wanted mozza—”

Customer: “WELL, I WANTED F****** GOUDA BURGERS!”

Me: “But you confirmed they were mozzas. I can’t do anything for you.”

Customer: “NO! YOU’RE GOING TO F****** FIX THIS. I WILL BE OVER IN TEN MINUTES AND YOU’RE GOING TO GIVE ME MY F****** GOUDA BURGERS!”

I try to respond, but he hangs up. He shows up and plops down this bag on the counter.

Customer: “All right, I want my goudas!”

Me: “Sir, first of all, I already told you over the phone I can’t do that for you. Second, you were swearing and I will not tolerate that—”

Customer: “NO! I WANTED MY GOUDAS AND YOU GUYS GAVE ME THE WRONG BURGERS!”

Coworker: “No! I confirmed it twice with you and he confirmed it with you three times!”

Customer: “THIS IS HORSES***—”

Me: “Sir, if you continue using that language, I’m going to just have to ask you to leave.”

Customer: “BUT YOU GUYS ARE PISSING ME OFF!”

Me: “Sir, please leave; otherwise, I will call the authorities.”

He begins walking out.

Customer: “YOU CAN TAKE YOUR MOZZAS AND SHOVE THEM UP YOUR A**! I WILL ENSURE THAT NO ONE COMES TO THIS PLACE AGAIN.”

Me: “Okay, but you still won’t get your goudas.”

Customer: “F*** YOU!”

He never came back, and business has been on the upside otherwise.

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That Isn’t Gouda