Trying To Lift Yourself Above The Customer Complaints

(I am working the bar for a ‘Family and Friends of RAAF Veterans’ function where the family and friends of Air Force veterans are invited to a free lunch, with free drinks, paid for by taxpayer money. Most aren’t veterans themselves, and the veterans are generally very lovely, but those who aren’t veterans — who are receiving free food and drinks — are always needy, greedy and demanding. I spot a man wandering around in the lounge area outside of the function room, obviously looking for something. I approach and ask if he needs help:)

Me: “Hi there, sir. Are you looking for anything in particular?”

Guest: “I need a lift!”

(We have a chauffeur car for patrons who wish to be picked up and dropped off from the club.)

Me: “Are you after the chauffeur car, sir?”

Guest: “NO! I need to find a lift!”

Me: “Ah, a lift. We—”

Guest: “Yes! A lift! Where’s the lift?!”

Me: “As I was saying, we have several lifts in the club due to having many different areas and split levels. May I ask which part of the club you need to head to?”

Guest: “I’m heading to the lift! I need the lift! This woman is sick and she needs the lift to go home!”

Me: “Ah. Well if someone is driving her we can bring the car around to this entrance–” *gestures to his left* “–so she doesn’t need to walk so far.”

Guest: “I’ll do that. Where’s the lift?”

Me: “Where did you park your car? We have several car parks and a couple of different lifts lead to different car parks.”

Guest: “I parked it out back.”

Me: “So, you parked in the car park here?” *gestures to rear car park* “If that’s the case, you just need to head out the doors here.”

Guest: “No! I said I parked out back! In the big car park!”

Me: “Oh, you parked out front? Did you come in through the big reception with the escalators? That’s the front.”

Guest: “Yes! And we came through a lift! Where’s the lift?!”

Me: “Okay, now I get it. Follow me, sir; it’s just around here. See the signs that say ‘Reception’?”

Guest: “Thanks. Finally. You know you could explain yourself better.”

(As I’m directing the gentleman, a woman,whose husband was one of the dead veterans displayed in a memorial presentation at the lunch, walks up to me:)

Woman: “This lunch was disgusting. I’m never coming back here again.”

Me: “Oh, no, I’m so sorry. What seems to be the problem?”

Woman: “I didn’t get the food I wanted.”

Me: “Well, at our events, like all large events I’ve ever been to, they place the meals in a rotation. You got the beef, but the people either side of you got the turkey, and the next person got beef and so on. You could have swapped with the person either side of you, or at another place on the table.”

Woman: “But I wanted turkey. You should have made sure I was getting turkey.”

Me: “Well, I was pouring drinks at the time. But you could have swapped with anyone at your table.”

Woman: “My husband died in the war, and you can’t even get my meal right.”

Guest: *who had been impatiently listening and huffing* “Your husband died in the war and all you can complain about is your FREE lunch being paid for by HIS—” *points to me* “—taxes. F*** off… and take me to the car for f***’s sake!”