How To Cheese Off Your Customers

, , , , , , | Working | March 23, 2018

(I am allergic to milk. When I go out to restaurants, I am always careful to specify to servers that my allergy means no milk, butter, cream, yogurt, or cheese, especially when I am abroad. My friend and I are out together, and we have both ordered food. I was extra careful to ask for no cheese or sauce on my burger, and to double-check that there is no milk in the bun. Our food comes out.)

Server: “And here we go! A burger for her, and pasta for you! Enjoy, ladies!”

Friend: “Thanks!” *to me* “Looks great, doesn’t it?”

Me: “Yeah! Oh… Hang on. I think they forgot to not put sauce on my burger. It should be okay if it’s just a relish, though.”

Friend: “Double-check, just in case! But it should be fine.”

Me: *deconstructing my burger with my fork* “Oh… So, not only is there lots of sauce on my burger, but there’s cheese… and… What is that?”

Friend: “It looks like they buttered the bun for some reason. You’d better send that back!”

Me: “Yeah.”

(I call the server back over.)

Server: “Is everything okay, ladies?”

Me: “Unfortunately, there seems to be cheese and possibly butter on my burger. I’m allergic, so I really can’t eat that. I’m so sorry, but is there any way I can get a new burger, please? Without the cheese or the butter on the bun, and with the sauce on the side, please?”

Server: “Oh! Wow! I’m so sorry; that shouldn’t have happened! I must have forgotten to put in an allergy warning on the till. Let me fix this for you right away!”

(He goes off to the kitchen and comes back after a while with a new plate.)

Server: “Again, I am so sorry that happened! Here you go. I spoke to the chef this time, so it should be all right. The sauce is on the side this time!”

Me: “Thank you! I’m so sorry to cause a fuss!”

Friend: *just as the server leaves* “Erm… I think I can see where they scraped off the cheese?”

Me: “What?” *deconstructs the new burger again* “Seriously? I think they just replaced the bun… and it still looks buttered. Maybe it’s margarine. Does this look right to you? I really don’t want to cause a fuss again.”

Friend: *pointing* “That’s definitely cheese still left on it! Don’t eat it! I’ll call our server back again.”

Server: “Ladies! What’s up? Is the new burger okay?”

Friend: “So, there still seems to be butter on her burger and–” *pointing* “–it looks like the cheese has just been scraped off here.”

Server: “What? I really did talk to the chef this time! Gosh, I am so sorry! I’ll see to it right away!” *takes the second plate back*

(While the server is away, my friend finishes her food. We also have timed tickets for a tourist attraction; though it’s nearby, we will need to leave the restaurant soon. We’re debating whether to get the burger in a to-go container when a lady marches up to our table.)

Manager: “Hi, girls. I’m the manager here. I heard there’s a problem with your food?”

Me: “Oh, there’s no problem; there’s just a mix up with my burger.”

Friend: “Yeah, we’re just waiting for her meal to come out again.”

Manager: “Right… The chef is saying you keep sending back perfectly good food. Is that right?”

Me: *taken aback* “What? No! I’m allergic to milk, and I asked for no cheese on my burger. My food keeps arriving with cheese on it, so I’ve just asked for a plain burger this time.”

Manager: “Right. I can’t see the problem here. Why can’t you just scrape it off?”

Friend: *worried* “She has an allergy! If she eats anything with milk in it, she will get seriously sick! Like, phone-an-ambulance sick!”

Manager: *haughtily* “I know what an allergy is! My husband is lactose intolerant! He can eat cheese, or scrape it off if he has to!”

Me: *trying to be calm* “An intolerance is different. Trust me; I don’t like sending food back, but I genuinely can’t eat it.”

Manager: “Hmm… You both seem very young… It looks to me like you’re just looking for a free meal.”

Friend: *raising her voice in frustration* “Honestly, we aren’t looking for anything! She just wanted something to eat, but she has to be careful because she has an allergy. We can’t explain it any better than that. She has not touched one ounce of her food! You can’t charge us for something she hasn’t eaten!”

Manager: “Well, I don’t comp meals when customers don’t communicate properly!”

Me: *jumping in quickly* “Look: it’s fine! I don’t want the food anymore. We have to leave soon, anyway. Can we just have our bill please?”

Manager: *changing her tune suddenly* “Of course! I’ll have your server bring it over immediately.” *hurries off, looking smug*

(Our server reappears with our bill soon after that.)

Server: “I am so sorry about the manager. She’s new. She told me not to comp your meal, but I’ve taken the burger and drinks off!”

Me: “I hope you won’t get in trouble for that.”

Server: “Nah, I’m one of the few experienced staff left! But, at this rate, I won’t be here for long!”

Can You Please Shut Your/The/A Mouth?

, , , , , | Working | March 23, 2018

(I start work at four am, and the only coffee place open at that hour in my town is at the gas station. I don’t know why, but the clerk at four am always likes to play grammar games.)

Me: “Can I have my receipt, please?”

Clerk: “It’s my receipt. It’s not your receipt until I give it to you.”

Me: “Whatever. Can I have the receipt?”

Clerk: “I can give you a receipt. If you want the receipt, you need to be specific.”  

(It’s not worth it anymore. I just head into work a little earlier and make my own coffee now.)

They Have A Spotty Sales Record

, , , , | Working | March 22, 2018

(I’m about 16, and my self-esteem is at an all-time low. My family and I are doing Christmas shopping, so we’re walking through a mall. I walk by a kiosk that offers a brand-name acne wash “cure.”)

Attendant: “Oh, my God! Look at your face!”

(Way not to make me want to buy your product.)

Making A House Call

, , , | Working | March 22, 2018

(I have a minor cold, so I can go to work. While I make sure I stay away from colleagues and keep hygiene in mind, I’m still quite foggy in my head.)

Customer: “I need to know what kind of color you used for those houses.”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir; we don’t keep that data. Most of the time it’s a special batch mixed especially for us.”

Customer: “What should I do?”

Me: “Well, you can look for a chipped-off piece of paint, or something with a similar color, and go to the paint store. They can compare colors for you there.”

Customers: “So, when you need to repaint those houses, that’s what you tell the painters to do?”

Me: “Yes, but they can take their charts along with them.” *I accidentally blurt out* “You can’t take your home to them.”

(There is a short silence, I realise what I just said, prepare for the worst, but the customer bursts out in laughter.)

Customer: “Thank you for this pleasant conversation; I needed this laugh.”

Not So Little, Anymore… Or Ever

, , , , , | Working | March 22, 2018

(For weeks, a woman that I work with has been excitedly telling me that her little niece from another state is coming to stay with her for a few days. For the record, this coworker is in her mid-thirties, married but childless, and she is always talking about her little niece.)

Coworker: “You’ll meet my little niece today; [Husband] is dropping her off on his way to work so she won’t be at home alone.”

Me: “Oh, that’ll be nice”

Coworker: “Yes, it’ll be so cute! She’s going to help out here, but I am a bit worried about what I am going to tell [Husband’s Sister] about what she did last night.”

Me: “Oh?”

Coworker: “Yes. She decided she wanted to see [Major City], so we took her there, but she also wanted to go and see [Notorious Part of the City].”

(That area used to be well-known for having brothels, but has cleaned up over the last ten years and become a respectable location.)

Me: “Oh, that area’s not so bad now.”

Coworker: “But I still have to tell her mother, and I know she wouldn’t be allowed to do that sort of thing at home. It’s her first time away from home.”

(About half an hour later, I see my coworker talking to a woman.)

Coworker: “Oh, [My Name], my little niece is here. Come and meet her.”

(I look around for a child.)

Woman: *looking embarrassed* “Oh, come on, [Coworker]. When are you ever going to stop calling me that? I’m five years younger than you!”

Coworker: “But you were little when I first met you!”

Woman: “No, I wasn’t; I was fifteen.”

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