Working in the service industry was never easy. They say the customer is always right but every once in awhile its good to get the last word on a rude patron. These workers share their best revenge stories.
What Goes Around Comes Around, Old Man
“This past Sunday, we had this man in with his family. A family of 15. The sort of family where they were loud and rude and spoke down to the waiting staff like we are beneath them anyway. But this man in particular. Probably late 50s to 60s, trying to cling on to his youth by wearing a hideous tie-dye t-shirt and one of those who makes little comments and when confronted says ‘It’s just a joke’.
So the server is a fairly seasoned pro at dealing with rude customers, but this guy kept making comments about her red hair. All the awful ginger jokes he could think of he said to her. She kept a smile on her face but came to me and said she was losing her temper.
So I told her to take a quick breather and I would clear the plates away. I went over and immediately I got:
‘Have you met my friend? His name is fat Tony. What’s your name then?’
‘I’m Sophie.’
‘Ah. Fat Sophie meet fat Tony. You two should get together and have dinner. You would like that, wouldn’t you?’ he said with a smirk. His whole awful family were laughing hysterically, even fat Tony.
Now, I am a big woman and I have no problem with people stating the obvious, but it was the way he was saying it. And he knew (thought) I couldn’t say anything back.
So I said, ‘Oh, I didn’t realize we were stating the obvious, or I COULD have mentioned that badly receding hairline or your tacky t-shirt. But I wouldn’t because that wouldn’t be polite, would it?’
The rude one and his family were gobsmacked. He said, ‘You can’t say that to me.’
‘I will speak to you in the same manner you speak to me and other members of staff. Your friend may not care that you call him fat Tony, but you should have a bit more respect for people you don’t know who may be offended.’
I finished clearing the plates away and later on when they paid the bill, it was just awkward silence from them whilst I was my usual cheery self.
I should mention this is a family business, so to be honest I don’t give a care about offending customers who think they can talk down to people just because they are waiters or waitresses and they will just take it. We are not beneath you. I doubt I will see them again but it’s no big loss. This is why I’m an advocate for treating people how you want to be treated.”
“Carryout for Mr. Stupid!”
“I once had a passive aggressive customer walk into the store.
Usually at Domino’s, lunch hours were a tad more busy than other times during the day due to budget cuts.
Or perhaps it was for some other reason, but either way our manager could only have three people work opening shifts: her, me (the chef), and a delivery driver.
Needless to say, it was awfully hectic.
To sort of mitigate this, Domino’s added a couple ordering kiosks in the lobby.
These kiosks allowed us to dedicate more time to ensuring our order speed and quality was the best it could be.
It essentially made the process sleeker and smoother for everyone.
Except for a couple people that were technologically declined.
And the one really impatient prick I mentioned above.
So this guy walks in, and I tell him the standard,
‘Welcome to Domino’s!’ I say, as friendly as a person running around like a chicken with their head cut off possibly can.
The guy says he’d like to place an order, so I tell him,
‘Sir, I’m sorry, we’re a bit busy right now, would you mind ordering on the kiosk?’
Again, I say this as politely as I can.
He begrudgingly does so by giving me an exasperated sigh and growling, but doesn’t actually say anything.
I receive the order tags (to place on the boxes) shortly after he finishes.
The name for the order is ‘This is Stupid’.
I smile, knowing exactly what I’ll do next.
10 minutes later, my manager and I finish his order, so I call out,
‘Carryout for Mr. Stupid!’
Yeah, he didn’t really think that one through.
And it’s not like he could get mad at me, since, that was how he identified himself.”
Now That’s A Good Manager
“OK so here’s a story from my time as a McDonald’s employee.
It was during the week around 8 pm, and the restaurant was quieter than usual, so a few people had been sent home early, and others given extra breaks.
I was on the front counter by myself, when in walked this group of guys all around their mid- 20’s, and I could straight away tell that they were going to be a test on my patience. Instead of talking to each other, they seemed to prefer to half-shout, with the odd swear word thrown in for good measure. One of the guys leaned halfway across the counter to read my name badge, and then kept unnecessarily saying my name throughout his order.
‘Hello Bridie, can I have a Big Mac meal, Bridie. But with no pickles, Bridie. With a Coke please, Bridie … etc.’
His friends all seemed to find this hilarious. Furthermore, nearly all the items they ordered were customized somehow. (Seriously, all McDonald’s workers hate this.)
When I asked them to find a table and sit down as their order would take a while, they started kicking up a fuss. I explained that whilst the restaurant was quiet, the drive-thru was still fairly busy, and custom orders had to be cooked from scratch which can take a fair few minutes.
One of the guys leered at me, commenting that they would all go and sit down if I would suck them off.
I snapped, and loudly informed them that they had no right to speak to me that way. Who the heck do they think they are?
I was fuming, and what made it worse is that they all laughed, commenting:
‘Oooh! No need to get your panties in a twist.’
Meanwhile, having heard my raised voice, the store manager came out of his office. He walked up to me, and put his hand on my shoulder, leading me away from the counter asking if I was OK.
‘No, I’m not serving them!’ I replied. ‘They can’t speak to me like that. They’ve been pricks this whole time, and one of them asked me to suck them all off! They—’
‘YOU WHAT!?!?!’ he exclaimed.
Next thing I knew, my 40-something year old manager had jumped over the counter, and started chasing these guys out of the restaurant and down the street. All the while shouting that they couldn’t speak to his staff that way! and that he was going to kill them!”
He returned five minutes later, rang the police, gave them a description of the guys and got them banned from the premises.
He then offered me some free food and told me to take the rest of the evening off.”
Get Stuffed!
“I worked at a pizza takeaway for a few months while I looked for a better job, and the amount of rude and entitled customers was staggering. Luckily, the owner had our back which makes all the difference in retail. This particular incident happened on a Saturday morning. My co-worker and I had done all the prep and were taking orders, but the driver was late. Just as we were getting worried, his dad walked into the shop and informed us that the driver was in hospital after being knocked off his motorbike by an inebriated driver.
We were shocked and horrified and while my co-worker called the owner to explain the situation and try and get another driver to come in, I called all the customers who had ordered to explain what had happened and that their orders would be late. Most were understanding and expressed concern for the driver; not this one customer who I will from now on refer to as The Hag.
The Hag proceeded to screech at me, saying that it was her kid’s birthday party and we had to get her order to her right now or else, and we should give it to her for free cuz of the inconvenience etc. Not a shred of concern or pity for the poor driver lying in a hospital bed, Bitchface only cared about herself. I lost it and told her, interrupting her tirade, ‘You know what? You can stick your order up your behind cuz I’m cancelling it’ and slammed the phone down.
I didn’t get into trouble after The Hag complained to the owner, cuz I called him up after and explained the situation and he was just as shocked and disgusted by The Hag’s callousness as I was and basically told her to get stuffed. Oh, and the driver was ok, he escaped the accident with a broken collarbone.”
That’s It! You’re Outta Here!
“I not only snapped at him, I physically removed him from the premises and tossed him out the door…by the collar…me 5′5″ and 120 pounds, and him about 6′3″ and guessing close to 200 pounds, yelling,
‘AND DON’T LET HIM BACK IN EITHER!’ I shouted.
Geez I was angry. Security looked at me like I had lost my mind, but they did what I said. They had never seen me this way before.
I was working as a waitress at a high-end private club in Oklahoma City in a nice building called Penn Square. The club was always crowded and full of wealthy oilmen and their wives or girlfriends (or mistresses).
It was sometimes difficult to get a drink at the bar, so a guy standing at the bar asked me to order him his drink when I stepped up to my station to place my table orders. He said he had been trying to order a drink, but the bartender was so busy.
So I ordered his drink for him, along with my other orders from my bartender, and placed all the drinks on my tray. He assumed I didn’t order his drink since all drinks were on my tray, and just as I was ready to hand his drink to him, for free, I heard him say under his breath,
‘Cow.’
I couldn’t believe it. I said, ‘ What DID YOU JUST CALL ME?’
He said all he had asked was for me to get him a drink and I couldn’t even do that for him.
I don’t even know what happened next exactly, but I reached up and grabbed him by the collar and began pulling him through the crowd towards the door where the doormen and bouncers stood guard. He was so shocked he barely resisted. He kept saying he didn’t hear me order his drink.
I yelled, ‘Too late! That’s not how you treat a lady and if you say one more word I WILL CALL YOUR MOTHER AND TELL HER WHAT YOU DID!’
Have you ever said that to a guy who’s been acting inappropriately? You’d be surprised what a reaction that gets.
There wasn’t any way I could have even called her. I didn’t even know the guy, but just by me saying that, and him thinking I would, got his attention even further. The guy was the same age as I was and he was getting really afraid of me!
I told security they better never let him back in. I actually tossed him out the door, turned dramatically around, and went back inside to work.
Let me tell you what working as a waitress at a hoppin’ popular rich-clientele place entailed. It meant two shifts of a total of 12 hours, constantly on our feet, walking and walking and walking, taking many drink orders, collecting money, giving change—all very fast paced, taking more orders, carrying heavy trays of drinks, more walking to get them made, cleaning tables of empty glasses, and then making sure each customer was well-attended to throughout the evening and treated with respect. I’d work so hard and my feet and legs would hurt so badly at night after working until 3 a.m, I’d cry from pain when I got home.
And the next day I’d start again.
The first shifts’ customers were the oil businessmen in the building who came for a drink after work or to entertain important clientele. I loved that shift. But when that shift ended at 7, get ready. Soon we were dealing with people who had had too much to drink, and it also meant sometimes we dealt with things that were quite the experience.
But I did love my job, and I was good at it. Let’s put it this way…I made such good money, I was able to put my first husband through college.
But I’ll be danged if I would have ever let anyone treat me with a lack of respect while I did such a demanding job. I’m your waitress dang it, and without me and my pretty smile, you’re not getting served. And if you really mess up, you’re OUTTA THERE!”
“I’ll Give You Five Minutes To Make Me Look Good.”
“I worked at a cosmetics store where we provided complimentary makeovers to anyone who asked for it.
One day, a woman came in and sat down on an empty chair and gestured to her face. ‘I want to have foundation,’ she retorted. So I went through the routine of questions. ‘What is your skin type? What consistency do you prefer? How much coverage?’
She promptly cut me off, and simply said, ‘Too many questions. I’ll give you five minutes to make me look good.’
I was getting slightly annoyed, but I figured she was maybe just trying to get some makeup done before meeting someone. So, I went with the safe bet: a popular foundation that is highly recommended for sensitive skin (I didn’t want to accidentally break her out.) Anyway, I started to apply, and she stopped me and began to raise her voice.
‘What are you doing?! I just want to cover this one spot,’ she snapped.
By the way, she didn’t mention this at all and if she had I would have applied concealer, which was what she was looking for.
‘Take it off and do it over,’ she demanded.
At this point, I sat down all of my brushes and said, ‘You can say that nicely.’
She stared at me in disbelief, but after about 10 seconds, began to stammer, ‘No… no… I just meant…’
My manager ran over and asked if I wanted my break, and took over. I seldom lose my temper, and I guess she knew that so I never got in trouble for it. I certainly was not paid enough (or will ever be paid enough) to be made to feel less of a person.”
The Pizza Con Artist
“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 stupid 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!’ she complained.
Customers waiting behind her count: four. Not only was this woman rude and obnoxious, she was 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 left over slices from the dine in crowd out of the trash in back along with some special toppings from the ground. Placed them in the box and taped it up good. 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.”
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 gold mine.
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 freakin’ refill while you’ve been flirting with the 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,’ I replied, ‘Go get lost, loser.’
I laughed all the way home.”
What? No Bird?
“My father returned a bird house kit to the store because it did not have the chain to hang it, as pictured on the box. ‘I think it’s shameful that I have to come all this way because a simple part is missing.’
The returns lady -a crusty old gal- looks at the box, which does indeed show the bird house hanging from a chain, attached to the branch of a tree. Even shows a bird on the perch under the hole in the front of the bird house.
She looks at the box, looks at my father.
‘Well?’ said Dad.
‘Hey mister,’ she croaked sourly, ‘This also shows a picture of a bird on the box. You gonna complain because there’s no bird in the kit, either?’
I had to turn away, in mirth. Her response was definitely a bit rude and smart aleck. But it was dang funny, too.
A nearby manager, spying the encounter, drifted over and quietly asked me what was happening.
I steered him away, whispering, ‘You’re not going to believe this stuff, but…’ and told him the story. He, too, found it hilarious.
Then he said, ‘C’mon; grab your dad and let’s go cut him a length of chain.’ I summoned Father with a wave, and we three went to the chain department, where the manager cut off a three-foot section of gold decorative chain made of interlocked ovals – exactly like the one on the box.
‘With our compliments, Mr. Geare,’ he added. ‘And if you’d like, I can try to catch one of the pigeons up on the porch roof.’
By then, Father had realized how truly amusing this whole incident really was, and he declined the bird capture, chuckling. We even had a kind exchange with the returns lady, who did apologize for being a bit snippy.
All was well.”
