My boss owns several popular sandwich franchise stores. He recently decided to buy a store from an owner being kicked out of the franchise. As a result of the forced sale; the former owner gave up on customer service, fired all his staff and left the restaurant an absolute mess for us to deal with. On our first day there; I get in early to clean and organize. We have been open for thirty minutes when a car screeches up to our storefront and an angry lady comes stomping inside, brandishing one of our sandwiches.

Angry lady: “I’d like to speak to your manager!”

Me: “I’m the manager, ma’m. How can I help you?”

Angry lady: “My husband came in an hour ago to pick up my lunch. He asked for NO MUSTARD! I’m allergic to mustard!”

She slams the sub on the counter and opens it to reveal the bright yellow mustard coating the sub.

Me: “I’m terribly sorry for the mistake, ma’m. I’m glad you noticed before you bit into it. May I have your receipt so I can refund you? Then I’ll remake your food with NO mustard.”

Angry lady: “I don’t have the receipt. I told you. My husband bought it for me an hour ago.”

Me: “That’s ok ma’m. We haven’t been open long, and have only had a few customers. I can look it up manually.”

I check the transactions from that day. No one has purchased a ham sandwich that day. Because we just bought the store, the computer displays only today’s transactions; as the previous transactions were on the old owners account. So any refunds must be made from him, not us

Me: “Ma’m, is it possible your husband purchased this yesterday? I’m not seeing any sales today that match your order.”

Angry lady: “NO! He bought it today! An HOUR ago!”

Me: “I’m sorry ma’m. We haven’t been open more than a half an hour. Are you sure it was from this location?”

Angry lady: “YES! It was here! We only come HERE! I don’t know why we keep coming back. You people always mess up our orders and give us such terrible service!”

She is already yelling very loudly; the customers in the lobby are beginning to stare and my coworker has poked his head out of the kitchen to see what’s going on. I’m a bit hurt that the blame of the old staff/owner are being put on me. But I’m determined not to let it show.

Me: “I’m sorry you had a bad experience with this location before. We are under new management, as of today; and I will do my best to fix-“

Angry lady: “You had better give me my money back!”

Me: “I will do my best, ma’m. If your husband bought this yesterday, I cannot refund-“

Angry lady: screaming “It wasn’t yesterday. It was TODAY! Refund! Right now!”

Me: “I’m sorry ma’m. But But no one has made a purchase today that matched your order. Especially no orders with food allergy requests. The best I can do is put you in touch with the old owner; in case the order was on his account yesterday. I will make you a new sub right now, free of charge for your trouble.”

I start making a sub identical to the one she returned; minus the mustard. I just want her gone. She starts pacing the counter and angrily muttering.

Angry lady: “I can’t believe you won’t refund me?! I could have DIED! If I hadn’t noticed the mustard, I would be on my way to the hospital right now!”

Me: “As I said ma’am; no one has purchased a ham sandwich today. So I can’t refund what WE haven’t charged you. And I am replacing your sandwich for free...”

She slams her hand against the glass and screams

Angry lady: “THATS NOT GOOD ENOUGH!! You are just the rudest little s***! I want to speak to your store owner! I’m going to get you FIRED! Every time I come in here, you give me attitude. And now you don’t want to refund me after you almost POISONED ME!”

Me: ???!!! “Ma’m, I’ve never met you before! We just- “

Angry lady: “I make my husband come in for me now; because I don’t want to deal with you! And he’s told me you’re always rude to him too. You’re not getting away with it this time! I’m gonna get you f****** fired! And I’m going to sue you for trying to kill me by poisoning my sandwich with mustard! I bet you did it on purpose!!”

At this point she is literally screaming at the top of her lungs. I was angry before; but now, I lose it. I slam her half finished sandwich onto the counter.

Me: “Listen lady! I have NEVER seen you before. This is my first day here! We just bought the store TODAY! I don’t know who you are, or why you are so rude. I am doing my best to try help you; but you are blaming me for things that I have not done! You need to get out of my store right now!”

Angry lady: “LIAR! I know your face! You deal with us all the time! I bet you recognized my husband and intentionally put mustard on my food because you knew I was allergic!”

Me: “Lady, we make the subs right in front of you! How could I put mustard on it without your husband noticing!? Get out of my store!”

She begins a string of profanities about how terrible we are, and how we all want her dead by poisoning her. She even accuses the kitchen staff of hiding mustard on the ham before we put it in the sub to trick her.

I’m normally pretty calm under pressure. I’ll loose my cool to some over-the-top customers... but this is the first time I fought back... I could help myself:

Me: “Lady, if you’re as rude to your husband as you’ve just been to me, I bet he ordered mustard on your sandwich on purpose!”

Angry lady stops, sputters, then turns the liveliest shade of red and stomps out the door. The customers inside the store start applauding. When I told my boss about it later, he almost died laughing and told me not to worry about her. We never heard from her or her husband again.

If you’ve ever worked retail (which likely the majority of you in this thread have), you know customers can be absolutely wack and nonsensical. This being said, I shall proceed with my tale of one such customer.

For some background, I work at a popular chain retail store. The return policy at my store says we have to have your receipt or the price tag on the item to return it. If you have no price tag but you have your receipt, we can look up the style number on the receipt and issue a new price tag for the item and resell it. If you have the price tag on the item but no receipt, we’ll refund it, but give you in-store credit. We just basically have to have proof it is from our store. That being said, enter Karen.

I’m at the register when Karen approaches my counter. She is nice and friendly throughout the entire transaction, until I hand her the receipt. She places her purse on the counter, which I think nothing of. Like every other woman customer does, (and as I have too, done) I assume she’s going to put her wallet/change/receipt in her purse, take a minute to get situated, and leave. Which is all well and good and normal. But boy, was I wrong.

Instead, she says “you know what, I might as well do this while I’m here.” She dumps her purse upside-down on my register. I’m shocked, there is a huge line behind her, and she wants to clean out her purse right this minute? Inconsiderate....but I say nothing, mostly out of being absolutely flabbergasted. I continue to say nothing, that is, until she hands me her now-empty purse.

“Go on.” She says.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Return it. I want my refund.”

I look at the purse, trying to process what the heck she’s asking of me. The purse is torn on the handles, faded, and has obviously been in use for some months, if not years. But policy says we can return a damaged item as long as there is a tag or receipt, we would just zero it out. So I figure ‘what the heck’.

“Uh....okay ma’am. Do...you have your receipt?”

“Obviously not! Does it look like I have my receipt? Just return it! I know you can!”

“Ma’am....there is no tag on this. I can’t even tell what brand it is. (The brand logo had faded long ago, similar to my swiftly-fading hopes in this lady) I have no information to go off of, ma’am, there is no way to prove you even purchased it here. I believe you that you did, but there is no proof of purchase. I’m sorry, but I can’t return it.”

“Ugh! They did it for me at the other store!”

“Ma’am I don’t know which store that would be, as they would have needed a receipt or tag for that style number...”

“Whatever. Can I at least have a plastic bag for all of this? (The contents of her purse)”

“Sure, ma’am. Have a nice day.”

I hand her a bag and she storms off

I work at a fast food restaurant. Corporate has said that we are supposed to direct delivery drivers that come to the drive thru to come inside, all deliveries need to be picked up inside while the dining room is open, and I'm pretty sure that the apps all mention this. Had a driver today that came to the drive thru while we had a few costumers in line. Me: [Store Name], how may I help you? Driver: I'm picking up delivery for [Name] Me: Deliveries need to be picked up inside while the dining room is open. Driver: But I always pick it up in the drive thru. Me: I'm sorry but you need to come inside. Driver: Whatever, I'll just cancel the order. I think nothing of it, another driver will get the order. I finish helping the customers in line. Eventually he wins up at the window, I guess he didn't cancel. Me: You've already been told you need to come inside for the order. Driver: But I've already been in line so long, and I'm right here. Why can't you just give it to me here? Me: You chose to ignore the rule that you were told. That rule is straight from corporate. And the District Manager occasionally checks the cameras to make sure we are doing what we are supposed to. It is not worth my job. I don't know if I'd lose my job over this, but neither does he and I'd rather not risk it. Driver: But last time the dining room was locked. Me: The dining room is open until ten. Driver: I could just cancel the order. Me: Okay. He drives off, again he didn't cancel it because he came inside, I heard him complaining to my coworker as I helped more customers in drive thru, but I couldn't make it anything specific. This isn't the first time I've had a driver like this, and I might have sympathy if I didn't know the app tells them to come inside if it is open.

(I live in the Bible Belt of America, where homophobia is the norm. I’m a gay man and was outed by a previous coworker, so now I deal with two or three bigots per week. This takes place on an early Sunday morning.)

Me: “Hello. Did you find everything today?”

Customer #1: *a bigot who frequents my lane just to insult me* “Everything except a good, god-fearing cashier!”

Me: *scanning items and not paying attention* “Your total is $48.50, sir. Would you like to pay cash or credit?”

Customer #1: “You’re going to Hell, you know! You and all your god-d***ed f****ts! Pick up a Bible and learn how to be a Christian!”

(He then throws his credit card at me. I check him out while enduring his verbal abuse, as usual. Finally, he’s gone to bag his groceries while the next customer comes up. He’s an elderly man, around 60, wearing a sweater and a large prominent cross. I fear the worst but he hands me a gift card.)

Customer #2: “Bless you, son. I’d like you to have this to make up for those of us who are less than their best.”

([Customer #1] has heard [Customer #2] and starts yelling.)

Customer #1: “You’re going to Hell for supporting this f**! Learn how to be a good Christian!”

([Customer #2] removes his sweater to reveals he’s a priest. [Customer #1]’s eyes widen in shock.)

Customer #2: “Well, if I’m going to Hell I don’t believe there’s much hope for any of us now, is there?”

(He was the new pastor for the church and one of his first sermons was on spreading love instead of hate. I thank you, good sir, for reminding me what a real Christian is like.)

link: https://notalwaysright.com/just-a-cast-the-first-stones-throw-away-from-a-true-christian/79558/

Patient: “All I’m saying is, I need a prescription for Vicodin!”

My Father: “Ma’am, I’m not writing you a prescription for that. Your condition is in no way severe enough for narcotic pain medication. I can prescribe you some Ibuprofen if you’d like something to help with inflammation.”

Patient: “F*** you! I said I needed Vicodin! My wrist really hurts, and other doctors have given it to me without all this s***!”

My Father: “I’m sorry your wrist hurts, but nothing shows up to suggest there is anything serious going on. If those other doctors will write you the prescription, you’re welcome to go to them for a second opinion.”

(It has become obvious that she is not getting what she wants, so she settles instead for cursing and yelling at my father as much as she can on her way out. She verbally abuses the nurse at the front desk, and then turns to deliver the best parting shot she can come up with.)

Patient: “You’re pathetic! Get a real f****** job!”

Let me take you back...back to the summer of 2010. You're girl here is a hourly "cast member" at a local theater chain somewhere in the flat expanse of the mid-west. Her specific role? To sell movie tickets!

Now this theater is different. It has a full service bar. It has a restaurant. It has service at your seat. It has NO CHILDREN ALLOWED after 8-pm. This is the theater for the grown ups. The safe space for you to cry at he end of Toy-Story 3. For the 40-something fan ladies who want to fawn over the sparkly vampires away from the screaming teenagers. Also for the 40-something ladies who want to dress up in fancy dresses and get trashed at a fancy screening party for Sex in the City 2.

But those are stories for another time.

Piranha 3D has just been released.

It began innocently enough. A father comes in with his preschool aged child for a matinee showing of Piranha 3D. Our intrepid heroine does her due diligence. This movie is rated R for gore, nudity, language, alcohol, etc. It is not a movie well suited for children. This does not deter the father. Rather, it seems to spur him on. He buys the tickets. They go in. They watch the movie. Not a peep is heard.

In the weeks that follow, more parents arrive. Parents with young, impressionable children. Parents of good, religious backgrounds. Parents who do not heed out heroine's warnings, or those of her comrades. They insist this is what they came to see. They ignore all of the warnings-

Only to storm out of the theater, an hour into the movie, howling in rage. How dare we allow their children to witness such horror! Such filth! How dare we not warn them of the CGI tally-whacker, floating on screen. IN 3D! Look mommy, the fish ate that man's finger! They demanded their money back...

And were instantly denied.

For the powers that be knew full well the warnings had been made. In full. On multiple occasions.

But seriously, what the heck happened here? What about this movie made parents think it was a good idea to bring their children?

I work in a theme park. And maybe, by my user name, you can guess which one. Anyway, I was closing down a cart last night, and a guest came up and asked to buy a water. My 2 coworkers and I were in the process of shutting down this cart. We had already directed other guests on where they could purchase more water and other drinks. But this lady was having none of it. She wanted to buy a water from THIS cart because "She didn't want to wait in line!"

Lady, you are at a THEME PARK. It's close to closing time, there are going to be lines.

She then proceeds to tell me that I am going to be fired because I refused to allow her to buy water from a cart that is already closed. She tells me that her boyfriend is about to drop dead. And that if he drops dead, I'm going to be fired. She asks for my name and I give it to her and I may have added a little too snarky that "Okay, I guess I'm getting fired."

She huffs off with her boyfriend in tow. He looked fine. He did not look like he was about to drop dead. He was standing up and not leaning or looking haggard. I proceed to finish closing down the cart and taking about machines so we can clean them. About 10 minutes later, she walks back by with her boyfriend. He's now carrying 2 waters. And they are walking towards one of the rides.

Now I ask, if he was about to drop dead, wouldn't you leave the park? Wouldn't you sit down and wait it out? Wouldn't you ask for some medical assistance? Why would you get the waters and walk back to one of the rides?

She wanted me fired all because she refused to stand in line. Yep, the customer is "Always" right! I told my boss about the incident and he was like, "What? Seriously?"

I just can't some days. I have worked in customer service for most of my life. I began working in retail but for the past 6 years, I have worked in the food service industry at a theme park. I have stories for days.

I’ve copy/pasted the user messages. Amazing how many people don’t use punctuation. Anyways, this is an email interaction.

User: CANCEL everything this is bollocks and you done nothing for me at all CANCEL CANCEL CANCEL I haven’t sold anything and this is fck fck yo thief

Me: Hi there, it looks like you set your store to “vacation” - so your listings aren’t actually posted for sale. Here is how to move your listings back online, so they can be purchased… *proceeds to outline the 3 steps

User (2 days later): F*ck you this is a waste I haven’t sold anything I told you to CANCEL ACCOUNT

Me: Hi again! As I previously mentioned, you’re not selling anything because your items are not posted for sale. You took your store offline 3 weeks ago, it is easy to put it back online. Here are the instructions again…

*this is not an action we take for users unless they specifically ask us to do it. We want users to learn to navigate the site themselves.

User: F*ck you and this service I want to CANCEL account beca Im not making any sales and this is my business and you clearly don’t care about my life just CANCEL EVERYTHING IT ISN’T ROCKET SCIENCE

Me: Per your request, we have closed your account.

*This deleted 500+ listings that they created manually 😬

2 weeks later…

User: Were the Fck is my items yu stupid fcks. F*ck you piss boy

sigh

I used to work at Target as a checkout advocate, which is just a fancy term for cashier, and one day a crazy lady decided to grace me with her presence. This day started very normal, and I was just doing my job waiting in front of my check lane waiting for someone I could help, but it all changed when the crazy lady rolled up; I say rolled up because she was in one of our driving carts. So, she rolls up and I’m expecting her to go into my check lane but then I notice she has nothing in her cart, but she does have a magazine in her hands and she looks at me and asks if I wanted to hear something funny then points to the cover of the magazine which had Vice President Kamala Harris on it, and I was not expecting the words she spouted at me. She said “this is a man.”, and I have never been more confused in my life so I just awkwardly smiled and laughed it off, but this was a mistake because she then continued and started talking about how Michelle Obama was also a man and said she used tax dollars to get her surgery to be a man, then started talking about how she used to be a college football player named Michael and her, as Michael, kissed Barrack all the time. At this point I was speechless and in shock, at all of the information I had just learned and all I could sputter out was “wow, do you need help finding anything?”, she then just looked away and started to roll away, and I was left there in front of my check lane with this interaction burned in my memory.

So I just had a old man come into my work to have some prints done and I noticed he was wearing a Trump 2020 shirt, which in itself is a dumb thing to be wearing in 2021. But what made it even weirder is that I live and work in south Africa and this old guy was South African as well. Why the hell would someone wear a shirt in support of a fascist from another country who lost his election.

This happened about 4 months ago.

I live in the heart of a fairly well known American wine region, so the area is over-saturated with local wine. Like, you can't avoid it and it's hard to find anything foreign that's decent without ordering it or traveling about 40 miles. I run a bottle shop/tasting room that specializes in the unique, unusual, and international (if it's made within 60 miles of us we won't carry it,) so we get a lot of folks coming in for a break from the local Pinot tedium. The shop also has a lounge attached to it, and the lounge serves flights of whatever we have open for glass pour, but the shop tasting list changes weekly while the lounge glass pour list changes monthly. This will be important.

For those who don't know, a flight is a series of tastes (usually about 2 ounces but we pour a bit heavy) of different wines. We usually offer a 6-bottle flight, 3 white and 3 red, (although if we have a rosé on glass pour we sometimes sub that in.) They also happen to be a pain in the ass to set up when you're busy. Because our glass pour selection changes fairly frequently we have developed a system where we write the name and varietal of each pour on the base of the glass with a wet-erase marker, which we then wipe down before putting in the dishwasher. The whole process takes about 3 minutes per flight, which is a long time on a busy night if you're by yourself.

This story takes place on a Friday evening around 6:15. The lounge only seats about 25 people, and it was fairly busy so I was keeping an eye out across the hall in case the bar manager/server (we will call her Alice) needed help. She's a badass and can usually serve and bartend by herself on a Friday night without issue, but sometimes she needs help, especially when it comes to pouring flights. Suddenly I saw her all but jogging towards the shop. Alice is pretty much unflappable, so my attention was hers instantly and I was already beginning to stand up.

ALICE: "I need your help!"

ME: "What's up?"

ALICE: "I have four flights for Ed and his friends and three tables to run."

She then turned around and hightailed it for the lounge, with me hot on her heels. We decided to split the situational responsibility: Alice would run food to two tables and I would run the third and then begin pouring the flights. Having run the table without incident I returned to the bar and began pouring flights for Ed and his friends.

A little background: I am not a sommelier (mostly for financial reasons,) but I have my WSET Level 2, so I know a thing or 300 about wine. Ed, on the other hand, claims to be a level 4 (certified sommelier.) He likes to bring in his friends frequently and show off his wine knowledge, which admittedly he has quite a bit of. He may well be a sommelier, I'm not sure, but if he is then that makes what's to come even funnier.

Our flight that evening consisted of a Riesling, a Sauvignon Blanc, a Pinot Grigio, a Pinot Noir, a Malbec (my favorite varietal,) and a Cabernet Sauvignon, as Alice poured and ran them to the table, and all was caught up. Alice and I went back to the kitchen together to grab some water, and we were there for all of about 20 seconds when we heard a familiar sound. You see Ed has this habit of clearing his throat VERY loudly when he wants someone's attention. It's so loud that we can hear it from the kitchen, which is 2 walls and a large refrigerator compressor away. Alice and I look at each other, sigh, and then play a silent, lackluster game of "Paper, Rock, Scissors" to see who would be the unfortunate soul to deal with whatever problem Ed had this time.

Alice lost (I even offered her 2 out of 3 but she declined) and went to the table. She came back a minute or so later looking frazzled and holding one of the flight glasses, which still had 95% of the pour in it.

ME: "What's the frequency, Kenneth?" (The entire staff are "Elder Gen-Xers.)

ALICE: "You're not gonna believe this..."

ME: "What?"

ALICE: "We got one. I thought it would never happen, but we got one."

There's a running joke in the service industry (at least around here,) "Excuse me, I asked for Pinot GRIS, not Pinot GRIGIO." (inb4: yes, there are differences, but to the novice palate they are fairly indistinguishable from one another.) Well, that's more or less what happened. In her flurry of solo-serving badassery Alice had accidentally said Pinot Gris. She seemed genuinely rattled, which was unusual for her, so I asked what he said. Apparently he had told her that he wouldn't be paying his bill until he got what he was promised.

Now, nothing pisses me off more than people who are rude to people in the service industry, and aggressively clearing your throat is on par with snapping to get a server's attention. It's INCREDIBLY rude, and no one should have to put up with it. As I'm considering the correct way to handle the situation one of Ed's friends walks up to us, looking mortified. He leans in and says "Don't mind Ed. He wouldn't know a dick from a dock if he was kneeling on one and sucking the other. We're just here for the free dinner." He then palmed $40 onto the bar, knocked twice on the bar, and continued to the restroom. After Alice and I picked our jaws up off the floor and restrained ourselves from exploding with laughter at the best insult I've ever heard, I had a wonderful, awful idea. I made sure that Alice was okay, then walked to the shop.

As I said in the beginning, the shop has a weekly tasting list, two whites and two reds. That week one of the bottles we were featuring was a fantastic South African Chenin Blanc, (by Opstal, in case anyone is curious,) but no Pinot Gris. If you know you're DeLong's table, Chenin Blanc and Pinot Gris/Grigio are very similar in color and acidity but taste very different. So, keeping in mind his "friend's" hilarious statement, I decided to try an experiment.

I poured a VERY heavy taste (probably 3.5 ounces) of the Chenin Blanc and wrote the exact same thing on the base of the glass, except that I wrote "Pinot Gris" this time. I brought it to his table with my "sincerest apologies, and the hope that this makes up for it." I walked over to check on a nearby table, making sure to keep Ed's table within earshot.

Surprisingly he didn't flag me down, so after a reasonable amount of time I headed back to the bar to tell Alice what I had done. I had no sooner opened my mouth than that familiar, deafening sound rang through the air again. Alice said "My turn, I guess," and before I could stop her or tell her what she may be walking into she was halfway to the table. She came back a moment later, looking a bit more like her usual jovial self than she had the last time.

...

ALICE: "He said 'Now THAT'S Pinot Gris!' and asked me to bring him a bottle."

ME: barely containing myself "I'll get it!"

...

I walked to the shop and retrieved a cold bottle of Chenin Blanc from the cooler, four Chardonnay glasses, a towel, and a bottle opener, then returned to Ed's table, wrapping the bottle in the towel as I did.

ME: "How many of you will be enjoying this?"

ED: answering for everyone "Four! You guys gotta try this! It's great!"

ME: "Okie dokie!"

I set to work pouring four glasses, making sure to keep the towel around the bottle as I did. I knew that Ed was used to heavy pours, so those four glasses killed the bottle. I took the empty bottle back to the bar and went back over to the shop, leaving Alice to take care of the now four tables. About half an hour later she came into the shop and said "Ed would like a bottle of whatever he was drinking to go. Could you grab one for me?" I said I would, and then I told her to keep an eye on Ed's table when I dropped it off. She looked at me with bemusement, but said okay.

I went to the bar and added the bottle of Chenin Blanc to his ticket (it was the same price as the Pinot Grigio so it's not like I was overcharging him) then brought both the ticket and the bottle to his table.

...

ED: "What's this?"

ME: "It's what you were drinking. You asked for a bottle to go. Here it is."

ED: getting visibly flustered "That's impossible. I know wine, and that is NOT what I was drinking!"

ME: noticing that there's still a bit of wine in Ed's glass "I guarantee you it was, and I can prove it. DON'T DRINK THAT UNTIL I GET BACK."

ED: smugly "Okay then, PROVE IT."

...

I walked to the bar and grabbed a taster glass and both Ed's empty bottle and the open shop bottle that I had poured the XL taster out of earlier, then returned to the table. I poured a standard taster from the open bottle, then told him that what I had just poured was the same thing that was in his glass on the table, which is the same thing that he had absolutely LOVED earlier. He grabbed the taster and took the whole thing down in one gulp, then did the same with the glass on the table.

ED: "Let me see that bottle! snatches it from my hand Oh that makes sense, it's South African. THAT'S why I couldn't tell the difference."

ED'S FRIEND: "Oh would you shut the f*ck up already? You do this all the time and frankly I'm sick of it. Now pay your bill and leave these people alone."

ME: "Would you like me to put this in a bag for you?"

...

Ed grunted something about Australia, which I'm sure would have been an interesting and enlightening conversation, (it wouldn't have,) but I didn't have time for it. Alice retrieved the credit card, ran it, (5% on a $250 tab,) and dropped off the bottle (in a bag) a few minutes later, As they were nearing the exit his friend veered off to us at the bar. He laid down $60 on the counter.

...

ALICE: "Oh, Ed already paid the bill!"

ED'S FRIEND: "I know. This is for you. That was the funniest sh*t I've seen in a long time, and it's about time someone put Ed in his place. Thanks!"

...

And they were gone. Alice looked at me with justifiable confusion, so I recounted the events of the last few minutes to her and watched the smile spread gradually over her face until she was red-faced and grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

When the crowd filtered out and we were cleaning up for the night I asked Alice what she wanted for a shift drink, and she said "Pinot Gris, of course!" I laughed and said I'd be right back. I went over to the shop and used some of my tips to buy a bottle of Pinot Gris, (Domaine Schlumberger,) which I then brought back to the lounge. Alice busted up. "I was kidding!" she said. "I wasn't!" I said, as I opened and pre-poured two huge glasses to breathe.

We finished our closing duties, clocked out, and sat down to enjoy our well-deserved shifter. After her first sip Alice raised her glass. "Best damn Chenin Blanc I've ever had!" (I love this woman.)

Ed has come in a couple times since then, but he is more subdued and doesn't clear his throat anymore. His friends, on the other hand, come in pretty much every Friday now and they always treat us really well.

The last time they came in, the big tipper ordered a glass of Grenache, and a couple of minutes later he, in an impressive Ed impression, cleared his throat. Alice and I both went to the table, and he looked up at us and said "Excuse me, I asked for GRENACHE and this is clearly GARNACHA." We all stared at each other for a moment, then he burst out laughing and we followed suit.

Honestly they're some of our best customers now.

...

Tl;dr: I put a cocky "Sommelier" in his place.

Customer: “Hi, can I get a [sandwich]?”

Me: “Sure, that’ll be [price].”

Customer: “Oh, I’m the owner’s brother. I always get a discount.”

Me: “You’re the owner’s brother?”

Customer: “Yes.”

Me: “No, you’re not.”

Customer: “How do you know, you f****** b****?”

Me: “I’m an only child.”

(I then point to a photo of myself on the wall, with the word ‘OWNER’ just below it.)

Me: “Full price then?”

Customer: “…yeah.”

-Story is originally from notalwaysright.com-

So I got a million of these, but this is my most recent so I figure it's a good first post.

The other day my assistant manager was working the register at my restaurant, no where in contact with food. While he was ringing someone out, he turned his head and sneezed into his elbow. This method, as far as my state is concerned, is the ServSafe method to go about that I've always been taught. You don't sneeze into your hands so immediate hand washing isnt necessary if your not in contact with food.

Well, the woman waiting for her food proceeded to pay for her food, then exclaimed "You Sneezed!" and walked out of the store, leaving her food behind. The food is all made to order and sealed before getting to the register, so at no point was this womans food at risk of contamination or anything.

I still got my money, one of my employees ate her food, and I havnt seen her since.

Good riddance, I like it when the bad customers fire themselves.

(I am cashier at a pet store. I see a man walk into the store, pick up a large and expensive coffee table book on show dogs, and get in my line. My manager has warned me, and shown me a picture of this man. He tries to convince cashiers to give him a refund for items he has just stolen. I immediately page my manager, who, unbeknownst to me, is tied up with a minor medical emergency in the back of the store.)

Thief: “I want to return this item.”

Me: “Do you have a receipt?”

Thief: “No.”

Me: “I’m very sorry, sir. Without a receipt, I cannot give you a refund.”

Thief: “Give me a refund.”

Me: “Sir, I watched you pick that book up when you came in. I know you did not buy it.”

Thief: “Give me the f****** money, or I’ll kick your a**.”

(Most of the customers in my line start backing away.)

Me: “Sir, I cannot give you any money, and if you leave with that item I will call the police. Please leave the store.”

Thief: “You little a**-hole!”

(The thief grabs the front of my shirt, and rears his arm back to punch me. I throw my arms up to shield my face. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a flash of movement. The next thing I see is a spatter of blood on my counter, and the man out cold on the floor with a bloody nose. My manager, with a paramedic from the earlier emergency, walks up.)

Manager: “What just happened?”

(As I tell my story, an assistant manager calls the police, opens another line, and checks out the waiting customers. The paramedic starts checking on the man, who has a clearly broken nose. The man slowly regains consciousness, and points to me.)

Thief: “She assaulted me! I’m going to sue!”

(I talk to the police.)

Me: “He grabbed me, but I never hit him. I don’t know how he got hurt!”

(The man, a known criminal, is handcuffed and put in the police car. The officers and my manager go to review the security cameras. About ten minutes later, I get called to come back to the office.)

Manager: “You have got to watch this!”

(The camera footage clearly showed the man getting the book, getting in line, arguing with me, and then grabbing my shirt. At that moment, the customer in line after him, a tiny, middle-aged Asian woman, leaped up, grabbed the hair on the back of his head, slammed his face into my counter, and then calmly stepped back to where she had been standing. She did it so quickly that we have to run the footage back on slow to see exactly what she had done. After the thief was out cold, she walked over to the new line that the assistant manager opened, bought her bag of cat food with cash, and left without a word. Apparently, the other customers either didn’t see what she did, or decided to keep their mouths shut. We have no idea who she was, and we never saw her again. The thief was charged with assault on me, and arrested. Wherever you are, lady, thanks! You’re my personal superhero!)

link: https://notalwaysright.com/needs-to-press-paws/76697/

(I’m a manager. I am ringing up a woman I have sold things to before. We are making small talk as I ring her up. Note: I’m a lesbian.)

Customer: “I can’t believe the president came out in support for gay marriage!”

Me: “I know; kind of unbelievable!”

Customer: “That f** lover is going to burn in Hell for that!”

Me: *biting my tongue* “Okay.”

(I finish ringing her up and hand the customer her bags.)

Customer: “They should round up all the gays and put them down.”

Me: “That would be bad for me, seeing as I am a lesbian.”

(The woman turns pale and walks out without saying a word. A few hours later, I get a call from the manager of another one of our stores. On the line, I can hear the same customer I previously sold items to ranting.)

Manager: *also a woman* “So, this woman is here wanting to exchange a bunch of stuff from your store. When I asked her what was wrong with the items, she said you tainted them; I have no idea what she is talking about. Could you maybe clear this up for me?”

Me: “Well, I bet it is because she found out I am gay.”

Manager: “I see.” *starts talking in sultry voice* “Well, I’ll see you tonight for our date. You should put on that that black lace bra and panty set I got you for your birthday! I love you!” *hangs up*

(I am very confused, seeing as I have never dated that manager, nor did she ever get me underwear, and as far as I know, she is not gay. Fast forward a few days later to the manager weekly conference call: apparently, the customer left the other store after thinking the other manager was also gay. That manager then called every other store in the area and told everyone about the customer. Over the next few days, the customer went to every store in a 20 mile radius trying to exchange the ‘tainted goods.’ Everyone she talked to pretended to be gay when working with her and she left every time. To my knowledge, she never got her exchange.)

link: https://notalwaysright.com/best-not-to-exchange-with-haters/75692/

I work at an auto parts store. Today an old woman brought in her doorbell. She started taking it apart at my counter.

Old Woman (OW): I need a man to fix my bell.

Me: our batteries are right over here.

OW: no, these are new batteries. But you push the button and nothing happens.

Me: I'm sorry, but we don't sell parts for doorbells. (It is an AUTO parts store)

OW: I need a man to fix it.

Me: No one here can fix it.

(I should mention that I am female)

OW: I need a man.

Me: Sorry, no men here. (my coworker emerged, and is also female)

OW: No man?

Me: No, ma'am.

(I’m half-Chinese, but with my sunglasses on, people usually can’t tell. I’m fluent in Mandarin. One day I get a text from my friend, a grade-school teacher.)

Friend: “You speak Chinese, right?”

Me: “Yeah, why?”

Friend: “Come down to [intersection] around noon and explain what the f*** is going on.”

(At my lunch break I head down there. On one side of the street is a crowd of school kids, while on the other side an elderly Chinese man with an ice cream cart.)

Kid #1: “I’m gonna do it.”

Kid #2: “No way.”

Kid #1: “Yeah way. I’m fast enough!”

Kid #2: “You’re not Chinese.”

Kid #1: “So?”

Kid #2: “Only [Chinese Name] can do it.”

Kid #1: “I’m gonna do it.”

(Kid #1 dashes across the street, yanks back the cover of the cart, and grabs a handful of ice cream. He takes off, but the vendor catches him, pinning both arms behind his back.)

Vendor: “Ah, three bars? Your total is $9.28.”

Kid #1: “Lemme go!”

(The vendor removes some money from the kid’s pocket with his free hand.)

Vendor: “Cash paid is $20.”

Kid #1: “Yeah, yeah, I know the drill.”

(While still holding the struggling kid, the vendor deposits the $20 in his till and takes out change.)

Vendor: “Your change is $10.72.”

(The vendor puts the change and ice creams in a bag and hands them to the kid, who takes off.)

Vendor: “Have a nice day!”

Kid #2: “Told you.”

Kid #1: “Fine! Okay, [Chinese Name], you do it!”

(A short Chinese boy steps forward. His clothes are patched and despite the weather, he’s not wearing a coat.)

Chinese Kid: “Let us meditate… on the way of the wind.”

(He strikes a ridiculous pose and exhales loudly. The other kids jump back.)

Chinese Kid: “…on the way of the snake…”

(New pose, hissing loudly. The others back away even more.)

Chinese Kid: “…on the way of the hawk.”

(He flaps his arms and jumps in a circle. The kids are a good twenty feet away now.)

Chinese Kid: “The meditation is done.”

(He runs up to the ice cream vendor and grabs a handful of bars. The vendor strikes him with an exaggerated karate chop which the kid easily blocks.)

Chinese Kid: *flees, speaking Chinese* “Thank you, Mr. [Vendor]!”

Vendor: *shakes his fist angrily, also in Chinese* “Sorry we are out of lime today!”

(The Chinese kid kicks towards the vendor from across the street.)

Chinese Kid: “My mother says she hopes your leg feels better!”

Vendor: *red-faced with rage* “It does! Tell her thank you for the tea!”

(The kids are enthralled. As they eat the ice cream, I approach the vendor.)

Me: *in Chinese* “What just happened?”

Vendor: “Oh… you understood. That little boy is a new immigrant, and all the other children mocked him because he is small and weak. He told them Chinese people have special powers, and they beat him up and told him to prove it. But I overheard and whispered to him to rob me. Now we have a deal.”

Me: “How wonderful!” *pointing behind him* “Hey, can you tell what that is?”

(As he turns around, I drop some money on the cart and grab a bar of ice cream, fleeing.)

Vendor: “You forgot your change!”

Me: *shakes my fist* “It’s a tip!”

Kids: “Whoa! How did you do that?”

(I slip off my sunglasses. The Chinese kid bows to me and I bow back.)

Kid #2: “Told you they have special powers. Never bully a Chinese kid, man. Never!”

link: https://notalwaysright.com/crouching-tiger-hidden-powers/75934/

A regular customer comes through the drive-thru. She’s a difficult person to deal with and we have a new barista on bar tonight.

Customer: “My usual, please.”

I take her money and keep an eye on our new barista while he makes her tricky drink. He makes it just right. When the barista hands it over to me, she pulls a face suddenly.

Customer: “Who’s THAT?”

Me: “Oh, that’s [Name], our newest barista! He took extra care with your drink tonight. I was watching.”

I had been watching him make it and knew it was perfect. She then took a sip and made a face.

Customer: “Too sweet! Honey, could YOU just make it for me? YOU always get it right.”

Me: “Sure.”

I go to the bar and pretend to make things next to the new guy, who is really making her drink. Then I walk over and hand the new barista-made beverage out to her.

Customer: sipping “Mmm! PERFECT! I knew YOU wouldn’t let me down!”

Me: “Actually, [Name] made that one, too. I just kept an extra eye on him to make sure it was absolutely perfect, and now he knows exactly how to do it for next time, too!”

Customer: “….uh… well…it IS a little OFF, but I’ll let it slide this time.”

— Story is originally from notalwaysright.com —

This was about a week ago. I was at the door working as a greeter at about 10pm. This lady walks in with what looked to be a coffee maker. I asked if she was returning it, and she said yes. I informed her that the service desk closed at 10, and she just stares at me. I apologized for the inconvenience, and told her that the desk opens up again at 7am. She started to complain that she had just drove 20 miles to return this coffee maker, and that she would have to drive home, come back in the morning, and drive home again, totaling 80 miles altogether and wasting half a tank of gas. She was talking about wasting money on gas, and I said there was nothing I could do. She then tried to leave the item anyway, and despite me saying she couldn't do that, walked off. An employee that worked at the desk walked by and asked what happened. While she dealt with this lady, I went back to doing my job. Eventually, the lady returned, and asked for a place to stay. Because I obviously can't let her sleep in the store, I offered that there was a hotel up the road about a mile. She started going off on me for even suggesting it, a demanded that I take care of the return. I said that she would need to do it because you need an ID, the item, the receipt, and the tag I give her to get it done. She asked to see a manager, so I called for one. She started calling me rude for suggesting that she go to a hotel, to which I just started to roll my eyes. Sidenote: I don't deal with confrontation well AT ALL (especially at work), so my anxiety was already flipping shit. Eventually, one of the cashiers came over and took her to management. I guess they did the return just to pacify her, because there was no coffee maker with her when she came back.

Background info: I work at a stationery shop that happens to sell stamps

[Customer walks in]

Customer: hi i have a question

Me: hey how can i help?

Customer: so i have his letter with a worldwide stamp on it do you know if I'll still be able to use it? The stamp is from last year you see

Me, a lil confused: okay...? I'm not too sure about it you'll have to go to the post office and ask them, we're not the post office...

Customer: but you sell stamps dont you? You should know this!

Me, more confused: im sorry we're not the post office...

Customer, not understanding we're not the post office: but you sell stamps dont you???

Me: sorry but we are not the post office, we only sell 1st and 2nd class stamps...

[Customer gets angry and leaves huffing under her breath]

[Me and coworker who witnessed the whole interaction just burst into confused laughter]

I work in the hotel industry and this was just after I had been promoted to front desk manager. This came with new duties including ordering food for the continental breakfast we offered. This added to the confusion.

So I take a call at the front desk one day, this is the conversation: Me: Thank you for calling (hotel), my name is (me) how can I help you? Customer: yes, In calling about your bread. Me:...our bread? Customer: yes I want to ask you some questions about your bread.

Now, to order the product for the breakfast room I had to go through 3 different vendors, one for milk products, one for basic grocery items and utensils, and one for the bread products. That was limited to basic white and whole wheat bread and bagels. I assumed this was what she was calling about.

Customer: I wanted to order a certain kind I had last time I was there and I can't remember the name of it. Are you able to find my last order?

Me: oh, was this something you requested at your last visit with us? When was the last time you stayed here?

Customer: what? I'm in there every day I just want to know about the bread. Are you new? Lwt me talk to the girls they know what I'm looking for.

When she says "the girls " I assume she is referring to the GM and former front desk manager, or possibly the housekeeping girls. Either way I was the only one on staffinnthe building at the moment aside from security.

Me: I'm sorry but there's nobody here and no I'm not new. I'm just trying to understand what you're asking me. Now, what is it about the bread?

Customer: you must be new, you don't know what I'm talking about. Is there anyone else I can talk to?

Ma'am, I'm the only one here until my colleague comes in to take over at 11pm. And anyway we only have 2 kinds of bread. It's (brand) and we have white and whole wheat.

Customer:...where did I call?

Me: this is (hotel)

Customer: oh my goodness! I must have dialed the wrong number. I'm so sorry. I was trying to call (local bakery) just put me through to them dear.

Me: oh, well that's ok. But I can't put you through to them unfortunately. I can get you their...

Customer: well why not?!

Me: ma'am...you dialed the wrong number. I am not in any way connected to that store. I physically have no way to transfer you to them. The best I can do is look up their number for you.

Customer: I already have their number! I just dialed it wrong. You mean to tell me you wasted my time worh this and you won't even help me?

Me: ma'am, I can't. I'm terribly sorry. But if you ever want to stay at (hotel) and you find the name of that bread we can absolutely have one made available to you when you arrive for your breakfast.

Customer:...I guess I'll just hang up and dial AGAIN. I'm be telling them about you.

Then she hung up. I've had worst calls since but that one always will stick with me.

(A man comes to my register with a mint chocolate candy bar.)

Me: “Anything else?”

Customer: “Can you break a $100 bill?”

Me: “Actually, I can’t. We just opened and I haven’t gone to the bank today.”

Customer: “Oh, no! Do you know anywhere I can get change? I need this candy right away!”

(At this point I notice his panicked look. Coupled with the fact that he’s buying the most unappetizing candy in the store, I jump to a conclusion.)

Me: “Sir, these aren’t for you, are they?”

Customer: “No.”

Me: “Did your pregnant wife send you out at eight in the morning to buy this candy?”

Customer: “Yes.”

Me: “For the love of God, man! Get these home to her before you’re in even more trouble! You can come back and pay me later!”

(The customer bolted out the door. He later came back, visibly calmer, and paid.)

link: https://notalwaysright.com/hell-hath-no-fury-like-a-pregnant-woman-scorned/69947/

(It is prom season. We have a lot of girls coming in to try on dresses. Three girls have been trying on heaps of dresses. They finally select the ones they want.)

Me: “I see you’ve made your final selection! If you just bring them to the register, I’ll be happy to ring you up.”

(Their mother walks over.)

Mother: “Oh, what lovely dresses!”

Girl: “Yeah. We had to go through a lot of dresses before we found anything decent.”

(The mother gets a weird look on her face.)

Mother, to me: “Excuse me, miss?”

Me: “Yes, ma’am?”

Mother: “Are those the dressing rooms?”

Me: “Yes.”

Mother: “Do you mind if I run in there for a minute?”

Me: “Go ahead!”

(The mother walks in, and sees all the dresses on the floor of the dressing rooms. She comes out fuming.)

Mother: “You girls march right in there, pick up every dress, and hang them back up! Right now!”

Girl: “Why? It’s her job!”

Mother: “I did not raise a bunch of pigs! Get in there now, or you won’t be going to prom!”

link: https://notalwaysright.com/27-stresses-2/72004/

(The sandwich shop I work at allows phone-in orders for pickup, which people usually order under just their first name. Occasionally, that causes some confusion, because when you got multiple orders under the same first name, you have orders under Michael, Michael 2, Michael P., Michael Smith, Mike from (Employment), etc. It isn’t uncommon to accidentally hand the wrong “Michael” bag to the wrong Michael, especially if they have similar orders. I start getting creative when I take phone orders.)

Customer: “…and my name is Michael. When will that be ready?”

Me: “Ooh, sorry, dude. I already have an order for a Michael, and I want to make sure your order doesn’t get confused. Do you like The Lion King?”

Customer: “Haha, yeah?”

Me: “Okay, cool! You want to be Simba? I’ll put you down as Simba. Your order will be ready in fifteen minutes, Simba!”

(Later, my boss walks by my queued-up orders and sees all of the names on the bags.)

Boss: “What is this?“

Me: “What?”

Boss: “Lindsay… Tinkerbell… Michael… Frankenstein… Judy… Spartacus…”

Me: “I didn’t want multiples of the same name in my queue; that way we don’t make mistakes on the order.”

Boss: “Well, how is anyone supposed to know which order is whose?!”

(A customer approaches the counter:)

Customer: “Hakuna Matata! My name is Simba and I ordered a meatball sub for pick-up!”

Me: “’Sup, dude. You getting a drink and chips with that?”

Boss: “AND STOP CALLING THE CUSTOMERS ‘DUDE’!” *stomps off*

link: https://notalwaysright.com/drive-thru-pride-rock/106578/