These servers have had it with these unruly customers! These workers reveal the times they’ve had to put a rude patron on blast while on the job.
He Really said “Take This Job and Shove it.”
“I was working my last shift ever as an employee of Carls Jr., a fast-food restaurant that is part of the Hardee’s umbrella. After a weekend off, I was to start my new job Monday as a security guard at a goldmine.
I was down to the last two minutes of my shift when a young lady came in and asked if we were taking applications. I told her I had it on good authority that a spot would be opening up fairly soon and handed her an application.
Once I was done dealing with her, I turned to a person standing at the register with his coffee cup in hand. His face was red with anger.
‘I’ve been standing here for five minutes waiting for a goddang refill while you’ve been flirting with that floozy.’
First, I had not been flirting. Second, it only took me a minute to deal with her, and he wasn’t there when I started. He’d been there thirty seconds, tops.
‘Hurry up and fill my cup, or I’ll be talking to your manager, and you’ll be fired.’
I looked at my watch. I had about ten seconds left. I walked over to the register slowly and clocked out.
‘That’s okay. I quit. Go f**k yourself.’
I laughed all the way home.”
“Are You Out of Your Frickin’ Mind?!”
“During mid-adolescence I worked at a dine-in or carry-out restaurant. Pizza and subs mostly, but a cut above your standard pizza place in both quality and price. Whenever someone came in to pick up a pizza, the box would be marked with the toppings and taped so it stayed shut during transport. Nobody ever had a problem and we went out of our way to make sure they received what was ordered.
On a particularly busy evening, a woman in her early 40s wanted to see her pizza before paying. She mumbled something about places getting her order wrong all the time. I opened the taped box and displayed the pie containing the two toppings marked on it. I believe they were sausage and onion. There were only two people behind her in line so I took a few seconds to tape the lid. Understand, this was over three decades ago and I don’t remember the exact words, but she said something like this:
‘I’m not taking this one. Make a fresh one and I’ll take that.’
Not only did her statement seem ridiculous, but she just stood there preventing anyone else from picking up their order. I had no idea what to say. Actually, I knew exactly what to say, but ‘Are you out of your fricking mind?’ would not be the most courteous response. Within three seconds of her demand, she proceeded to question my intelligence and express a desire to speak with the manager. I politely asked if she would move so the other customers could pick up their orders. No response except folding her arms and holding her head high. Thankfully, the manager was in the kitchen and I gladly dropped the problem in her lap.
Customers waiting behind her count: three. After commenting on how rude and stupid I was, plus some other meaningless statements, she finally explained why the pizza was not fresh. Because I opened it so she could check the toppings. Her voice got louder as her body language became more animated. If there were no diners or people in line, I would have told her off. That would have caused her to overreact and be asked to leave. If she didn’t, a call to the police.
‘Fine, I’ll take this one, but I refuse to pay for it because it isn’t fresh!’
Customers waiting behind her count: four. Not only was this woman rude and obnoxious, but she was also trying to scam a free pizza. I could not let it happen. Before the manager said a word, I pulled her back from the counter and asked if I could handle this. The devious look on my face was all she needed to know I had an idea. Returning to the counter I let the woman know that not only would we give her a fresh pizza, but it would be no charge if she would let the other customers pick up their orders. She agreed with a smug sense of satisfaction on her face. Within five minutes I returned from the back with a warm and sealed box. She walked out the door proud of her accomplishment.
The manager knew it would have been impossible to make a new one in such a short time and since the original sausage and onion pie was still there, asked me what I gave her.
I had our chef throw an empty box in the oven for a minute and then write the toppings on top. While the box warmed up, I took eight leftover slices from the dine-in crowd out of the trash in the back along with some special toppings from the ground. Placed them in the box and taped it up well. I would have loved to see her expression when opening the box. She had no recourse because it was free and according to her definition of fresh as the box not opened, I didn’t lie. We never heard back from this rude pizza con artist who got exactly what she deserved.”
No Sandwich For You!
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“I’m employed at a Dunkin Donuts. I work all shifts, and during the third week, on my first-morning shift, we were in the middle of a crazy rush. The line must have been about 15 customers, and we’d had two people call off.
One lady was near the end of the line, checking her watch every few seconds. After a minute or two, she was third in line and decided to yell her order. Three sandwiches, two lattes, and a frozen coffee with almond milk (which we can’t even do because we don’t use it in the blender in case anyone has an allergy to nuts).
I tell her to hold on, there are two customers before her, and we’re making three or four items per area at the moment. She gives me her dagger stare and shuts up while the other two are taken care of. I ask her ‘Hi, hon, how are you today?’
She just repeats her order, and when I tell her about the frozen drink and the almond milk, she just says, ‘F**k it, make it with skim milk. Come on, I’m late for work!’
‘Of course! Would you like a donut or some hash browns today?’ I say.
I could barely keep a straight face at this point.
‘No, dang it. I f**king don’t!’ I tell her the price and she fights with the credit machine. It goes through, and she asks where her stuff is. Right away. The machine was still finishing its confirmation chime!
‘We just started making it, ma’am. We start orders once they are paid for. And we were busy. There are still 10 people behind you waiting patiently.’ I smile at one of my regulars and ask how they are.
‘We were talking here, moron!’ The woman at my counter yells at me. ‘Our transaction is finished, sweetie. Your order will be ready at the next counter in a few minutes.’
As I head to the breakfast station, I see her take $4 out of my tip jar, and wait for her stuff. About three minutes later, I hand her food minus a sandwich. She checks her bag with me standing there, and asks for it.
‘No ma’am. You stole $4 out of my tips. I figure I can’t let you have this sandwich unless you give it back.’
‘F**k that! Hand it over!’
I finally blew up and just ripped right into her.
‘You are being rude because of a wait! If you don’t like it, get moving earlier or shut it. This is mine, now.’ I squish the sandwich in its wrapper and throw it in the trash. She left, ticked off. I felt great. My manager gave me a quick grin while the customers watched the woman storm out. Idiot never came back as far as I know.”
Grouchy Grandma
“A few years ago, I was transporting a brother and sister on my school bus. One was a kindergarten and the other third grade.
Each afternoon, their grandmother was waiting at their stop. I’d always say ‘Hi, how are you today?’ Or some other such pleasantry, but grandma was always in a hurry and would only grunt and whisk the kids into the car and take off.
One afternoon as I approached the stop, grandma was standing there, arms folded, foot-tapping, and looking at her watch.
I had a feeling this wouldn’t be pretty. Turns out I was right.
Grams stormed up to the bus and said, ‘Would you explain to me why these kids get out of school at 3 o’clock, but you aren’t here until 3:30 or 3:40?’
I gently explained how that all the drivers in our school system first do a middle school-high school run, and then we proceed to our elementary school runs.
‘WHAT?’ She shrieked, rising to her full height, all 5′2″ or so of her.
‘THIS WILL NOT DO!’ She yelled. ‘THE SCHOOL SYSTEM NEEDS TO ALLOCATE MORE FUNDS TO HIRE MORE DRIVERS OR PEOPLE WILL BE LATE TO WORK AND PEOPLE WILL LOSE THEIR JOBS…and blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah!’
I let her finish and calmly said, ‘Ma’am, surely you realize that all of that is out of my control?’
She could only muster a ‘Hmph!’ before snatching up the grandkids and whisking them away.
I didn’t see her kids for a while and figured she was just going ahead and picking them up herself.
Want a job done right, do it yourself. Works for me.
A week or two later, I stopped at McDonald’s for a mid-morning coffee. I love McDonald’s coffee as it’s fairly safe and is probably one of their few menu items that aren’t 40 percent melted plastic.
I ordered my coffee and lo and behold, there was the grandma working as McDonald’s manager! She saw me and we made eye contact. I smiled and waved. She gave me a kind of half-smile and feebly waved back.
Ha! I had her right where I wanted her.
I would motion her over and say, ‘Oh, hi. So, you’re the manager here. I have a complaint; ‘THE SERVICE HERE IS TOO SLOW AND MCDONALD’S NEEDS TO ALLOCATE MORE FUNDS TO HIRE MORE EMPLOYEES OR PEOPLE WILL BE LATE FOR WORK AND LOSE THEIR JOBS…’
But, of course, I said no such thing, because that’s not who I am and I am not that kind of person. However, when Grandma and I made eye contact, and all I did was smile and wave, well, I believe she knew I could have let her have it just like she did to me.
Oh yes. She knew.
Somehow, not taking revenge was sweeter than taking revenge.
When I left, we made eye contact again and I held up my coffee and said, ‘Hey, great seeing you. Have a nice day.’ She again looked a bit bewildered and gave me back that half-smile and feeble wave.
Her grandkids started riding the school bus a short time later, and she was remarkably more pleasant. In fact, when I would drop off her grandchildren, we’d actually exchange pleasantries and even chat a moment or two.
Sometimes, taking the high road and being the nice guy can be awesome.”
Chill Out, Bro. It’s Just Peppers.
“Back in my college days, I worked as your typical friendly neighborhood delivery guy for a popular pizza chain. I enjoyed it pretty well, the tips were good for the most part and I could work fewer hours and make more than most of my friends.
Now with the job of course I deal with quite a lot of different people, but mostly the worst to deal with were the people who didn’t tip or people who would try to take advantage of ‘the system’. (You know the type, eat half their pizza, only to miraculously realize that the order was not up to their ‘standards’ and demand a refund) -nothing that bad or that hard to deal with.
Now a little back story.
At this particular pizza chain, it is standard practice to include pepperoncini in the box with your freshly baked pizza
So about 30 minutes before the end of my shift, I get routed on a delivery to a decent neighborhood. I’m familiar with the area so it doesn’t take me long to find the house. The order was simple: two large pepperoni pies. I walk up to the house and knock on the door.
I am greeted by the customer Mr. Ignoramus in a rather tepid manner. He takes the first pizza from me, opens it, and just sits there and stares. I can visibly see his face darken to a shade of crimson as an expression of what can only be described as epileptic rage crosses his face.
‘I TELL THEM, PEOPLE, EVERY TIME I ORDER MY PIZZA I DON’T WANT THE Stupid PEPPERs!’
I give him a blank stare.
‘I HATE THE PEPPER! HOW HARD IS IT TO REALISE THAT? I DONT WANT IT, HERE-(He the proceeds to take the pepperoncini out of the box and places it in my hand)-I DONT WANT THIS F**KING SH*T – YOU TAKE IT BACK.’
He snatches the second box and takes the second pepper out and throws it at me, then slams the door.
-I’m in pure shock and disbelief, wondering what in the DSM-5 I just witnessed. I get back in my car and head back to the store. I hand my tips and receipts to my manager for counting, and I head to the back to do dishes.
This is where it gets good!
While back there I grab one of the plastic bags we use to carry two liters of soda when someone orders them and take advantage of my distracted manager. I quickly fill the bag to the BRIM with pepperoncini and place it outside via the back door. Once I finish the dishes and collect my tips, I go outside, retrieve my bag of peppery goodness, and get into my car. It’s about 10:00 PM at this point.
Under the cover of nightfall, I return to Mr. Ignaramus’s house, and quickly run out, and proceed to scatter hundreds of pepperoncini all over his front porch, sidewalk, and lawn. It was a moment I had never been more absolutely certain of in my entire life! I run back to the car and drive home.
I would have paid good money to see this clown’s reaction. Unfortunately, I had a drill weekend that weekend for the National Guard.
When I returned, my manager could hardly contain his laughter. On his desk were plastic sandwich bags of the peppers and a note with the total count (yes this goober had nothing better to do than pick up all of the peppers and count them) He asked me if I knew where they came from.
‘No idea’ He gave me a grin of knowing better, laughed to himself, and said ‘I’m sorry to do this but I’m gonna have to let you go at the end of the week.’
‘I completely understand.’
He thought it was hilarious, as did my co-workers. I regret absolutely nothing, and to this day when I order pizza from that chain, and I tell people I am the ‘pepper guy’ they recognize me with much laughter and excitement. I apparently became somewhat of a legend.”
A Taste of Her Own Medicene!
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“It was 1985. I was a high school student working part-time at a grocery store in my town of about 10,000 people. The grocery store was a medium-sized store and was one of many from a popular chain in the south-eastern US.
This rude and nasty lady would shop in our store two or three times a week. Normally she would come in very close to closing time when we were busy with our closing procedures (cleaning, closing registers, etc.). This woman was always accompanied by her rude and misbehaved kids and sometimes by her husband and other adult family members. More often than not, she had quite the entourage.
The kids were always eating produce while shopping in the store. The kids would also eat the bulk candy. I guess they figured anything consumed before they arrived at the checkout was fair game.
This episode was during a time when grocery store items were priced with a sticker from a price marker. The stickers were easily removed and this woman took full advantage. She would change the prices of more expensive items with less expensive ones. We were also pretty sure she was shoplifting. Surveillance was unheard of at this time and no one really thought her antics were worth the effort.
The woman and her entourage would purchase items from our store, mark the prices up, and sell them in her convenience store located a few minutes away across the street from the high school I attended.
One evening this woman, her brats, and the rest of the entourage came in the store and started what was to be an extensive shopping trip. Store policy dictated that some cleaning tasks couldn’t be accomplished until everyone was out of the store.
The woman and her entourage finally made it to the checkout stand and she immediately began all of her nonsense. She would allow me to ring items up and then turn around and say she no longer wanted that item and it would have to be voided. Remember this was a time when ringing up groceries was a very manual process. Voiding items was a time-consuming process. All of this was a diversion for her kids to take advantage of a distracted cashier and pocket candy and other point-of-sale items located at the register. I knew all of this wasn’t right and it made me mad but, I figured that if the store manager wasn’t alarmed by their antics then this high school kid sure wasn’t going to put himself out there and get in trouble for calling her out.
Well… this went on for some time. I was a high school kid and her antics would cause me and others to get home late on a school night. I would have to “re-shop” all of her voided items before I could help clean the store. This nonsense happened one too many times.
The next day after school I went into her little store to do some shopping myself. I picked up a handbasket and walked all over the store making certain that I chose something from every area. I got to the register where she was watching television. As she painstakingly rang up each item, I added a candy bar to the order. When she finally finished ringing the items, I reached for my wallet. Lo and behold I only had enough money for the candy bar. She didn’t get the message at first. She fussed at me for having her ring up all of the items. I looked her in the eye and reminded her where she should know me from. I explained to her that if she behaved badly in my store then I would return the favor. While I was explaining this to her I pointed to the high school I attended and explained that next time, I would bring friends.
Not one of my finer moments but it did solve a problem. I never saw her again.”
He Stood Up For His Employee
“In 2015 I and my business partners were granted the largest concessions inside the ‘most prestigious’ country club in our country.
Among all the units we were given, one was problematic from the beginning: a small bar/buffet inside the gentlemen’s locker room. Specially designed only for men, no females are allowed ever. This is where the golf crowd would hang after playing.
They called themselves ‘the real board of directors of the club, claiming that it was really them in charge and none other. This was usually said by them as a joke, but eventually, there was the idiot who actually believed it and acted upon it.
I never had any issue with the group itself: their many complaints about food and service were promptly managed. It was a pain in the neck, but it was our job to serve them and keep them happy while making a profit.
One day, this quiet guy from the group tells me that he needs a word with me, in private, ‘It’s very simple, it won’t take long’ he assures.
We both step out of the room and I am all ears for what he has to say. He starts ‘Well, thank you Juan for giving me a few minutes of your precious time. But some of us were wondering if you could do something about Armando (one of the servers that worked regularly in this unit): he shouldn’t be there, you must understand’. And he gives me a smirky face that I’ll never forget, trying to seek for my approval on what he just said. ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ I respond. ‘Has Armando been rude to you and your friends? Is he not doing his job properly?’
‘Oh no, it’s not that! Not that at all! He works well, he is just not fit to be here,’ smirky stupid face again, and I’m still not following what he means. He gets closer to me and whispers ‘He is a bit dark, you know? He really shouldn’t be there.’
Those words burn as I listen. I start boiling in anger at this prick but I keep my cool, for now.
I ask this piece of trash person, ‘Are you telling me Armando can’t work here because he is black? Is that what you mean?’. With his lowest voice, he responds ‘I hope you understand and keep this between us’. ‘I’ll manage this issue the only fair way I can think of’ I respond and he shows a face of relief, having no idea of what I am about to do.
I call Armando and I explain what just happened. I let him know that he is safe in his workplace and that I’ll stand up for him to the last consequences, he agrees with my plan.
We both walk into this place where the golf crowd is gathered and ask for the prejudiced guy out; seeing me with the waiter makes him doubt of what is happening but he agrees to speak to us nonetheless.
‘Please apologize to Armando now, and please make sure nothing like this ever happens again’ his face is a poem; he can’t believe I sided with my employee rather than him and his ignorant thoughts. ‘I am a member of this club’ he says ‘I deserve respect, and surely I don’t have to apologize to him or to anyone. I’ll take this to the board next Monday, and both of you will be in trouble. You are just servants here; I pay for your time and you better learn to behave’ and he storms back to his friends.
Every Monday the club’s board would meet, and they always requested a waiter to be present to serve drinks and some snacks during the meeting. The waiter always waited outside of the room in case he was called. That particular Monday it was Armando on service duty.
When the meeting is over I get called by one of the directors; he wants to talk to me in private about a very delicate matter. We meet and he tells me he has received some serious harassment accusations from a member of the club, that I must answer with my side of the story promptly.
I tell him the whole story, and then I call Armando to confirm what has really happened with this person. He believes our side, apologizes for the inconvenience, and says he will resolve the issue.
Three days later the bigoted member of the club comes to our main restaurant, asks for me and Armando, and apologizes for the insult. For some members of the board that wasn’t enough, of course, it was decided to suspend him for a few months from entering the club. My decision would have been harsher.
Happily, Armando had great years of service with us; he was an honest, hard-working, committed member of our big restaurant family. I wish that wherever he is now he never has to deal with pricks like the one that day in the club.”
Cheese Please!
“I worked my first job as a waitress at a restaurant on Coney Island when I was 16-years-old. This super arrogant guy came in with two girls, I guess he was trying to impress them, so he kept saying that I didn’t get his order right. Cheese or no cheese…something like that. Every time I brought his order back he complained again and I had to head back to the kitchen.
I was just a kid, honestly ticked off by this job and its lousy customers. After the third time I returned and they were all laughing. I played the of the ditzy teenager and when handed him his order I ‘accidentally’ scooted the hot Coney, with cheese on top, directly on his crotch. He was yelping, and I got fired immediately, but it was sure worth it. I still laugh about that memory to this day.”
Too Cheap To Tip
“My brother and I had been working at this pizza place as drivers for at least a year. By then, you get to know a good percentage of the addresses and whether they’re tippers, etc. If you are experienced, you can grab the close, big tippers and make quite a bit better money.
There was one house, on the very edge of the delivery area, Way out there so that already reduces the number you can deliver. They Never tipped. I had taken to hinting on the phone if I answered when they ordered. ‘That’ll be $19.82, sir, plus any gratuity you’d like to extend to the driver’. Or ‘…. plus gratuity to the driver since they make less than minimum wage’. I did this for a few months. They obviously were fully aware and just decided never to tip.
Then, one Sunday nite, only my brother and I are working – not a whole lot of orders. The order comes in from this address and I take the call. Go through my routine with them taking the order, and about the tip (the only ones I ever did this for) and wrote the order down. (We wrote the order down in those days) I take the slip, threw it at my brother, and told him ‘this one’s yours.’ He picks it up, throws it back at me, and says he’s not taking it. This went back and forth a bit and I finally wadded it up and pegged him in the chest with it and there it is just sitting on the floor. We’re both laughing and looking at each other, both refusing to pick it up.
About an hour goes by as we go about our business, delivering orders, etc. I happen to be back at the store and the phone rings. It’s this irate customer yelling about where his order is. My brother is there looking at me smirking. I profusely apologize, sorry sir, we’ll get that order in the oven immediately and out to you. I’m not writing anything down, though, nothing’s going to happen with this order!
So, the rest of the night we go about our business waiting to get fired or at least a good tongue lashing from the GM. Nothing, nada. I guess the family decided they were done with us. Or maybe they figured it all out and decided they were done for at this restaurant. Never saw another order for that address. Fine with me, spending a half-hour driving there and back over and over again and they can’t even part with a minimal tip. But the vision of them sitting there starving waiting for their pizza to show up and an hour and a half in them realizing they’re not getting pizza was sweet revenge. My brother and I have been laughing about this ever since.”