The customer is always right...except when they're not. Even then, some irate customers still feel the need to berate their server/cashier/cook for the smallest, pettiest, most ridiculous reasons. These people should just eat at home!
“They Literally Told Me I Was No Better Than Jerry Sandusky Himself”
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“While working at Subway, I had two older ladies come in and tell me how much of a nice young man I was, and how it was so refreshing to have a fast food employee be so sociable. This ultimately led to, ‘This must be a summer job while you’re in college, right?’
I answered yes and told them that I just finished my sophomore year as an engineering major at Penn State. This led to a ten-minute session of them screaming at me, claiming that I was a terrible person who supports child abuse. They literally told me I was no better than Jerry Sandusky himself and said they didn’t know how I could live with myself. They told my manager they couldn’t believe that she could work with someone like me. My manager told them, in the nicest way possible, that they could go f— themselves, and I never saw them again.”
Not Even McDonald’s Can Serve People That Fast!
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“A table of 30 came into the restaurant where I cook. The manager let us know, so we at least had a heads up for the very large order about to be placed. The waitresses take their orders and enter them in. Everyone on the line starts to bust their a– getting this food out. SEVEN F—ING MINUTES LATER, our manager comes back to tell us the table is leaving because we had apparently been taking extremely too long. Not even McDonald’s can serve a 30 set in seven minutes, let alone a casual dining restaurant.”
It All Adds Up
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“Use to be a cashier in a theme park. Prices were quite high, but then again, you’re at a theme park. A woman and her four children came into my line with $80 worth of theme park food. When I announced the total, she accused me of lying about the prices and said I must be trying to scam her, demanded I void her order and ring up each person separately so I couldn’t ‘scam’ her.
I did so and, again, was accused of trying to scam her so I rotated my register to her field of view and showed her, line by line, how much everything cost. At this point, she dropped all the food in my line, told me to deal with the mess, as it’s my problem now, and walked out.”
The Customer Refused To Talk Directly To Her
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“We had a waitress run into the kitchen BAWLING her eyes out. It took us a few minutes to find out what had happened from her. Apparently, a customer kept telling his son what he wanted, and the son would tell this waitress. When pressed by the waitress about why he would not speak to her directly, the man told his son to tell her:
‘I don’t talk to N-words.’
We chased the f—er out of the place. Myself, and two cooks. We wanted to roll him, but he was pretty quick.”
“He Thrust The Thing In My Face, Asking If I Thought This Sort Of Thing Is Funny”
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“Guy ordered a double cheeseburger with extra cheese. So I made him his burger with four slices instead of the usual two. Wrap the thing up, and forgot about it. Five minutes later, there’s a red-faced guy having it out with one of the cashiers and my manager. He demanded to see ‘the little prick’ that made his burger. So, I obliged him. He thrust the thing in my face and continued his rampage, asking if I thought this sort of thing is funny. Apparently, ‘extra cheese’ meant three slices, not four. Why he had to cause a scene about it is anyone’s guess…”
Even The Owner Hated This Soccer Mom
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“I worked at a soup and sandwich cafe for three years while I was in undergrad. We offered quick breakfast options which is how we made most of our money. We also offered a $1 small cup of coffee because Starbucks was two blocks down and my manager was like that. We broke even on the coffee, not really hoping to profit. Just trying to get people in the door and serve quick, good food.
A super yoga/soccer mom started coming in every morning to buy a coffee. She would bring in her own bagel and her own cream cheese. She would purchase the coffee and then ask us to toast her bagel and put her cream cheese on it for her- and expect us to run the food out to her like we did for every other paying customer. While she was purchasing her coffee, she would ask that we put on new gloves while preparing her food. Okay, fine. Not a big deal the first few times- because the owner (a working manager) was trying to keep his customers happy all of the time. However, this budding new cafe was starting to increase in business, exponentially. This Bagel lady started coming in every single day. The boss grew a little tired of her request because after all, he isn’t seeing the benefit of selling her a $1 cup of coffee and having us prepare her food for her.
She came in on a Saturday morning once. Thinking she got special treatment because she was a regular customer, she decided she would skip the line and put her bagel on the counter near the register. She waited in line, purchased her $1 coffee and noticed her bagel was right where she left it, untouched.
‘Excuse me, I expected this to be toasted and ready when I purchased my coffee. I come in all the time, you should know me by now. I am one of your most frequent customers.’
‘Yes, ma’am. I apologize, I did not see it. Here is your coffee and I will bring it out to you in a moment.’
‘I just don’t understand you people sometimes- so incompetent and rude to your customers. This is the kind of behavior that leads to disease and sickness in restaurants.’
I didn’t realize my boss was standing over my shoulder during this encounter. He sort of pushed me out of the way, grabbed her bagel (ungloved hands) took a bite, went to hand it to her, dropped it on the floor instead, and asked her to leave with a mouthful of bagel. He went to his office and closed his door, still chewing the bagel. He comes out and said, ‘Coffee is now $2.’
Problem solved.”
“Don’t Tell Me Not To Eat It!”
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“I work at McDonald’s. Last Sunday morning, I had a guy bring back what remained of his Big Breakfast, which comes with scrambled eggs, a sausage patty, an english muffin, and a hashbrown. All that was left was about half the portion of eggs and nothing else. He informed me that he didn’t like it, and he wanted a McMuffin instead. So I hand him the McMuffin and he said, ‘Where is the other one? I wanted one free, to replace the Big B, and one other one’ Okay fine, a–hole, I’ve got customers lined up out my front door and no time to tell you how much of an idiot you are, so here are your two McMuffins.
As I hand them to him I said, very politely, ‘Here you go, and next time if there’s something wrong with your food, just bring it back right away, don’t eat half of it.’
He answered, ‘Don’t tell me not to eat it, if there’s something wrong I want it replaced,’ and stormed away. B—-, you ate like 80% of your meal and brought it back, I gave you TWO free things, and you still b—- at me?”
What Kind Of Grown Man Acts Like That In Front Of His Kids?
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“I was a hostess at a fairly popular restaurant close to a movie theater. This can attract some large families on busy nights, so we strongly suggest reservations in our advertising.
It’s a Friday evening and we’re already on a wait. This family of seven saunters in and the father asks us for a table. I tell him that we do have about a 40-minute wait, but if they’d like to wait on the patio and order an appetizer, there is space for them.
He frowns, whispers to his wife, then turns back to me. ‘Nah, we’re going somewhere else. Go f— yourself.’
I almost didn’t believe I had heard it at first. Seriously? I was blown away that this father, husband, adult-f—ing-man felt like it was OK to say that to a 20-year-old hostess. What?”
You Know You’re Unreasonable When You Call The Cops And They Arrest YOU
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“I was working the opening shift at Little Caesars with two other people. It was around 10:40 AM, so we were putting everything in the oven so we could open at 11. I heard a knock at the door, I looked up from cutting a pizza and see a woman teetering in front of the door with two small children next to her. I noticed her parked car taking up two spots before noticing we still had fifteen minutes before we opened. The assistant manager was a stickler for the rules, so he told us to not let the person in until open (which I was fine with, since we didn’t have anything ready).
Cut to 11, when I went up to unlock the door before taking over the register. The lady and her two kids entered. The kids run to the table in the corner, while the lady stumbled to the counter. I could now smell the alcohol emanating from her, and I solved the mystery to the parking situation. She ordered a couple of pizzas and breadsticks, nothing too fancy. I gave her the food, and as I handed it to her, she blurted out that she wanted to talk to the manager.
Knowing something was about to go down, I got him and returned to the oven. Nothing was coming out, giving me plenty of time to listen to the conversation between them. Not that it was hard, as she immediately started screaming at him. She accused him of not opening on time, saying that we were to be open at 10:30. I guess she knows our schedule better than us employees. She also said that her food took way too long to make. Our Little Caesars had Hot-N-Ready, so as soon as I got the money in the register, I turned around and grabbed the food.
The manager was trying to calm down the drunk woman, who is threatening to call the police now. He was halfway through a plea before being cut off by the woman, belting out what would become his future nickname:
‘YOU OL’ B——!’
She stormed out of the place, leaving the food with the kids, still sitting at the table. She walked back in a few minutes later, now carrying a paintball gun she had grabbed from her van.
Now, the other co-worker and I had made our way to the back of the store to burst out in laughter. The manager was still standing at the register, in a combined state of confusion and anger. The fun was only beginning.
Upon seeing the paintball gun, the manager wanted me to call the police. However, while telling me this, the police were already pulling up. Apparently, while she was grabbing her paintball gun, she actually did call the police. The officer made his way in the store and took a look around, noticed the drunk woman in the corner of the store with a paintball gun and two kids, the manager at the register slowly turning red, and two employees stifling laughter.
The officer tried to get both sides of the story. The manager calmed down and told him our side of it. However, the woman was arguing with us the entire time. By now, the officer could smell her new perfume, Eaux de Jack Daniels, and gave her a breathalyzer. Five minutes later, she was being carried out of the store in handcuffs.”
She Made The Poor Cashier Cry…All Over A Hamburger Wrapper
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“When I used to work at McDonald’s, some lady came in and ordered a cheeseburger without cheese. So I just put it in a hamburger wrapper and gave it to the front. Well, she came back five minutes later and all h— broke loose. She was yelling at the poor girl who gave her the sandwich and the girl was new. So I went up to help and asked what was the matter. This is what she said, ‘I ordered a cheeseburger without cheese you gave me a hamburger. I want what I ordered right now and I want to speak to your manager.’
So I told her I was the manager. She proceeded to call me a liar, even though I had a nametag that said shift manager on it. But I told her I would fix it. I took the burger and put it in a cheeseburger wrapper and gave it back to her. She looked at it, then at me and I’m pretty sure she had the realization of what a cheeseburger without cheese is. She then just walked away without thanking me or anything. Also, I sent the girl home since she was crying.”
When The Customer’s So Bad They Inspire New Rules
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“I work at a local tourist spot as a food services supervisor, and we have a few different food outlets in the park. As a supervisor, I’ve had to deal with all kinds of challenging customers, including some that have turned out well (communicating with deaf customers, a Korean group who wanted $200 worth of hamburgers–twice) and not-so-well (customer who wanted a free bottle of water and screamed at me, a lady who said abusive things because she lost $2 in a vending machine, all sorts of silly food requests/complaints). Fun times.
One of the dumbest ones I came across, though, was dealt with by a co-worker of mine. Near the very end of the day, a lady came up to our fish and chips window and ordered a four-piece chicken strip combo. She said that she wanted it split four ways for her four children. My co-worker said sure but informed her that since the combo just came with a small fries, that meant each of those four portions would include just one chicken strip and a few fries. He repeated it a couple of times, but she impatiently told him that was okay. You can probably see where this is going. When she came to pick up her order, she was irate. From the sounds of things, she wanted each of those portions to have at least two strips and a small fries–even though she was only willing to pay the price of a single combo. She screamed at my co-worker, told him he was incompetent, all kinds of things. (The fish and chips place is in a remote location from the main kitchen, so there was no manager there, just supervisors.) She wasn’t willing to pay more, though, and my co-worker wasn’t about to make her more chicken strips and fries for free, so finally he told her the outlet was closed and that if she had any more issues she should take it up with the manager. She left and he closed the shutter, but then she came around to the side door of the building and screamed at him some more. Even when they closed the door, she waited for them and followed them across the park when they walked back to the main kitchen…where they were able to meet up with the manager and she was asked to leave the park.
We don’t allow meal-splitting anymore–if customers want something split, we’ll give them plates and knives and they can do their own portions.”
There’s Literally No Excuse For Something Like That!
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“My girlfriend and I worked at the same restaurant in Savannah, GA while in college. St. Patrick’s Day is huge here, about 750,000 people come every year and get very, very drunk. One year, an intoxicated customer didn’t like his Reuben, so he proceeded to grab my girlfriend (his waitress) and literally rub it in her face. Myself, a bartender, and a bouncer literally tossed him out the front door.”
His First Mistake Was Stepping Foot In The Kitchen
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“Some customer comes into the f—ing kitchen (customers: don’t ever go into a kitchen, it isn’t cool) and started yelling at the waitress, full on, no holds barred yelling in her face. Him and his table full of other c—-s have all ordered Spiced Ribs, Chalupa Seafood baskets, T-Bones, Rib-eyes — as a cook, the more advanced the meal, the more I love to cook it. You come into the restaurant and order the fanciest, most gourmet thing on the meal, and I love to do it. That’s why I’m there. I like to hone my skills and I like people to appreciate them.
What you don’t f—ing do is come into the kitchen mid-peak on a Saturday night because your food is 40 minutes late. There are 85 other people waiting to eat before you. You came out tonight to have a good time and eat, I get that, it’s s—ty seeing other people get their food before you. I get that. They ordered a f—ing cheese dip though, which we heat in the microwave, that costs $6. Sorry that it’s easier to make than the high-menu s— you’re ordering, you piss-sucking, sack of f—s. That is no reason to call a perfectly innocent teenage girl a stupid woman in the highest, angriest voice you can muster.
My chef, a typical alcoholic Gordon Ramsey type, f—ing flips his s— and lobs a plate onto the floor, smashing it as ceramic shards and nacho remnants scatter and explode everywhere. He starts taking steps towards the guy, ‘WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE? THIS IS MY KITCHEN AND WE ARE MAKING YOUR FOOD,’ going on and on. This angry d—f— of a guy backed down, and the upstairs manager is came downstairs, scared out of his mind because no one wants to f— with the chef. Me and him are in each other’s good books, but he is one scary c—. Because I’m a male, and punch ups beat cooking, I started following behind the chef as he approaches the other dude. The guy very quietly sat back down and tipped generously apparently.
Which is awesome, because I’m in Australia, and you aren’t even really supposed to tip here.”
“A Refund, A New Coke, And A Milkshake For Her Inconvenience”
Kues/Shutterstock
“I had a customer call the store, claiming that she had gone through the drive-thru earlier that day and asked for a large Coke with light ice. She told me there was definitely the normal amount of ice in this drink and she demanded a refund, a new Coke, and a milkshake for her inconvenience. I was speechless.”
This Is How You Get Yourself Banned From A Restaurant
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“Two older couples came in. For the sake of clarity, I will call the two women Nice Wife and B—- Wife.
I knew the table was going to be difficult when B—- Wife presented me with a handful of coupons. I explained that I could only take one coupon per ticket, as was printed on the coupons themselves. B—- Wife threw two coupons at me and said, ‘Split our checks, then.’ She told Nice Wife they could just pay two separate checks. Whatever, people do that all the time.
B—- Wife proceeded to drink Dewars on the rocks until she was extremely intoxicated. When she ordered her steak, she asked me to have it cooked ‘blue.’ She flipped out when I told her we didn’t do blue steaks and she instead ordered a very rare steak. Her husband ordered salmon. I was given very specific instructions on how to cook both entrees. Nice Husband and Nice Wife look mortified. B—- Wife got her food and promptly flipped out because it’s not ‘blue,’ even though she was totally clear on the fact that we didn’t do that at the restaurant. My manager, an experienced chef, went out of his way to make the woman a d—ed blue steak and served it to her himself. It was the third steak we cooked for her. B—- Wife lectured me for 10 minutes (I am not exaggerating) on what a terrible server I am, how the restaurant is a piece of s—, etc. She ate all of her steak and half of her husband’s salmon and complained that their food was inedible. She demanded that their entrees be taken off their bill.
I was fuming at this point, but the manager still comps their meals. I took the check to the table for Nice Wife and Nice Husband to pay. I am lectured again about what terrible service I offered. After another 10 minutes of being scolded, I calmly told her that I understood she was upset, but that I didn’t prepare her food and had served her exactly what she ordered. B—- Wife demands to see the manager who cooked her food. She also lectured him and said that she is a professional chef and is appalled at our inability to prepare a blue steak. Manager offered her a job at the restaurant since we obviously don’t know what I’m doing. B—- Wife flew off the handle and stormed out. Her husband followed meekly in her wake.
Nice Wife and Nice Husband leave me an immense tip. They’re so embarrassed by their friend’s behavior that they can barely look me in the eye. They left and I started cleaning their table. Nice Wife came back, pressed an additional $20 into my hand, and whispered, ‘I’m so sorry about the way she acted. If I’d known she would be that way, I would have just fed her at my home… but she’s a chef and I don’t know how to cook.’ She gave me a hug and left.
A few weeks later, B—- Wife came back and got super drunk on Dewars on the rocks again. She ended up standing on her tiptoes, screaming into the manager’s face in the middle of a packed dining room because there wasn’t cottage cheese on the salad bar. She was banned from the restaurant.”
“She Got Way Better Than She Deserved”
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“I used to work at McDonald’s during high school. You really see all kinds come through there. A couple of stories come to mind:
-Lady comes through the drive-thru and ordered three large chocolate shakes. It’s a pretty rainy day out. I filled the order and passed it to my manager, who happened to be working the window at the time. The lady rolled her window down about six inches and extended a hand to take the shakes. My manager pointed out that the cups are pretty tall, and she’d have to roll her window down all the way so that they fit. She insisted (rather loudly) that it’s fine because she doesn’t want to get wet. Never mind that there is a little roof over the window, sheltering it from the rain. She took the first shake, rotated it about 70 degrees, and put it in her car. She repeated this process for the second one, except she smashed the lid against the window in the process. Of course, the crappy plastic lid popped off, spilling shake all down the side of her car, both on the inside and the outside. She flipped out. Yelling at my manager about how he didn’t put the lid on all the way, calling him stupid and all sorts of other s—. He hands her a big stack of napkins, puts on his best smile, apologizes, and makes her a new shake. She got way better than she deserved.
-Lady came through the drive-thru at 12:15 on a Saturday. Pretty much the busiest time there was at our store. She ordered about $20 worth of food, and pulled around to the window. The cashier gave her total, and the lady handed her a big bag of unrolled coins, saying something like, ‘I think it’s all there.’ Cashier called the manager, who politely told the lady that we’re very busy and couldn’t count out all of these coins right now. He asked her to pull off to the side so that the people behind her could get through while we counted out the change. The lady lost her mind, and started b—-ing about how she was there first, and everyone else could wait until she was served. She again assured us that all of the money is there, and was angry that we wouldn’t just accept her giant bag of coins as payment without counting it first.”
Well, That Escalated Quickly
Ollyy/Shutterstock
“While I worked in an all you can eat restaurant, we frequently got customers who would eat say, three or four plates of food, then go and fill up another five, leave them all full on the table and claim the food was all disgusting and refuse to pay. There was one time in particular when a couple tried to do this. The managers got involved and were refusing to let the customers leave until they called the police. The woman in the couple tried to push past one of my managers, so he took hold of her arm to stop her from leaving. Cue shouts of assault and harassment and the male partner suddenly going ape s—, shouting, ‘Don’t you f—ing touch my woman,’ etc. Luckily there was a full restaurant of people who were watching the show, so they couldn’t get away with it. Douchebags…”
“They Were, Per Capita, The Neediest Customers Of The Week”
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“In the early ’90’s I was a waiter at Friendly’s. On Sundays, I worked all three shifts: breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Sunday nights were particularly brutal: it was our busiest night, yet we were always undermanned due to staff not showing up, and I was tired from a long day.
Every Sunday night, this large church group would come in, about 20+ people. They would come in at the tail end of the dinner shift, just as I was about to pull myself out of the weeds, and they would ask for me to be their waiter. Then, if they couldn’t get five tables near each other, they would spread out all over the restaurant into other waiters’ zones but still insist on me being their server. They would act disappointed (and in some cases annoyed) that I didn’t remember their drink preferences from previous weeks. They would place their beverage and food orders, then get up and change tables. Not to f— with me, mind you; they were just being sociable with each other.
Then they would get fussy with their orders. This or that was wrong, this is undercooked, I didn’t think it would look like that so can I order something else, etc. It was hard for me to tell if I had gotten an order wrong, or if maybe I had the right order for the wrong guy because they wouldn’t stay in the same seat throughout the experience. It went on and on. They were, per capita, the neediest customers I had to deal with all week, and there were 20 of them all at once. Every. F—ing. Sunday.
Don’t even get me started on the a–hole cooks who couldn’t get the orders right. Let’s just say, Friendly’s doesn’t exactly draw the best and the brightest, and only the dumbest ones showed up Sunday nights. I was too poor not to.
So here’s the kicker: religious pamphlets. That’s what I got tipped every week, plus about $5 in change.”
