When The Customer Is A Total Butthole
I work in a café. There’s this mum and daughter who come in quite often. The daughter is on the spectrum, and although she is about ten or eleven, she behaves like she’s five or six, so I guess there’s some developmental delay there. Whatever the case, she is the sweetest thing and is my favourite regular, hands down.
She’s bright, cheerful, and always trying to be helpful. She opens doors for customers, picks things up for people if they drop them, tidies up her table when they’re done; stuff like that.
She talks in very limited sentences. For example, she will say things like ‘cookie, please’ instead of ‘Can I have a cookie’. But hey, she says please and thank you, which is more than some customers do.
One day she comes in, and she’s in a very mischievous mood, because when I say good morning to her, she says:
Girl: “[My Name]… butthole!”
She then bursts into giggles.
Mum: “[Girl], that was very rude.”
The girl stops and looks at her mother.
Girl: “Rude?”
Her mother nods.
Mum: “It’s not very nice to call people names. Say sorry.”
The girl turns to me, and she does genuinely look remorseful.
Girl: “Sorry, [My Name].”
Apology accepted. Honestly, I didn’t mind; she was just making a silly joke, but I totally understand why her mum would teach her not to call people names. It’s not a bad life lesson, honestly.
Mum: “I’m sorry. She heard a kid on the playground say that, and she thinks it’s the funniest thing ever. I keep telling her not to say it.”
Me: “Oh. Learned a new word, I see. Don’t worry. No offense taken. It could be worse. My two-year-old cousin heard my uncle swear when he stubbed his toe, and for a month, they couldn’t stop him from saying the f-word. That was a fun one to explain to his nursery!”
We had a little laugh about it, and then I got them set up with their order.
It should be noted that the little girl wears ear defenders when she is in the café, and today is no different. This will be important later.
Then, a man came in. He approached the counter and snapped his fingers to get my attention. Not a great sign.
Customer: “Peppermint latte.”
He said it as if he were barking some order at a subordinate.
Me: “Okay, one peppermint latte. Anything else?”
Customer: *Rolling his eyes.* “If I had wanted anything else, I’d have asked for it.”
Some battles aren’t worth fighting, so I rang up his order and sent it down the line. The sooner he got the drink, the sooner he would leave.
When his drink was called out, he grabbed it, took one sip, and slammed it down, spilling coffee all over the counter.
Customer: “This is WRONG! This isn’t what I ordered!”
Colleague: “That’s a peppermint latte. Is that not what you ordered?”
Customer: “Ugh. No! I ordered a vanilla latte!”
I stepped in.
Me: “Sir, you ordered a peppermint latte. I confirmed it before putting it through. You did not order a vanilla latte.”
The man sneered at me.
Customer: “Are you f****** deaf and stupid? I said—”
Girl: “—RUDE!”
The man turned to look at this little girl who had yelled at him from her seat.
Girl: “RUDE! Say sorry!”
Customer: “Who f****** asked you?!”
Mum: “Don’t talk to her like that. She’s right. You are rude. And you did order a peppermint latte. I heard you. So did everyone else.”
Other patrons turned around to stare at this man, a few glaring or shaking their heads.
Customer: “Wind your neck in, you fat cow. And keep that [r-word] on a tighter lead!”
Note: ‘lead’ is the UK equivalent of ‘leash’ in the US.
I’m guessing he saw her ear defenders and realised she wasn’t neurotypical.
Unfortunately for the man, our manager had come out of his office in time to hear his vile comment.
Our manager is in his mid-fifties and is retired military. While he has put on a little weight around the middle in his retirement, he is still well over six feet tall and built like an Orc warrior; broad shoulders, with arms and thighs thick as tree trunks.
I could tell by the death glare he aimed at the man that he was as furious about his nasty comment as I was.
Manager: “Get out!”
The café went silent.
The man turned, and opened his mouth, preparing to argue, but closed it when he caught sight of my manager looming over him.
Customer: “I… my order—”
Manager: “You do not get to insult my staff, and you certainly do not get to say such vile things about a child. You are banned. I never want to see you here again. Ever. Get out.”
Customer: “But I—”
Manager: “Either you leave on your own two legs, or I pick you up and throw you out. Do you understand?”
The man left without another word, without even looking back.
Once he was gone, my manager and I went to check that the girl was okay. Thankfully, she seemed fine and went back to eating as if nothing had happened. Her mum was okay as well and grateful the man had been dealt with.
Thankfully, the man hasn’t come back in as far as I’m aware. Good riddance!
