So a few years back, I was working a crappy but fairly standard job in a little fast food café in a swimming pool. I generally got all manner of insufferable bellends come through the place, but hey, I made my £3.68/hour and for the most part it was almost bearable.
One day I had a customer that particularly stood out - I could tell straight away when I served him that it wasn't going to be a fun order. He was a roughly 40-year-old French guy who came in with two children and seemed like the kind of person who thought the rest of the world owed them a favour - he was pretty arrogant and spoke down to me as though I was one of his kids. Fine - I dealt with people like that all the time. I put on my best customer voice and took his order - two kids' meals with Fruit Shoots (little bottles of vaguely juice-like stuff for kids). All sorted, he got his order and I thought he was out of my life for good. Five minutes later, he marched back up to the counter, shoving straight into the queue and staring at me as though I was the Satanic lovechild of Hitler and Gary Glitter. I prepared for the storm that I knew was about to come.
Me: Sorry sir, is everything okay with your food?
He slammed the bottles of juice down on the counter.
Customer: Tell me please, HOW can you be serving zis to the children? -- (his thick accent made the whole thing 10x better)
Me: Is there a problem with your drinks?
Customer: Zey are at a temperature COMPLETELY UNSUITABLE for children. Zey are freezing cold and must be warmer or they will be DANGEROUS.
I was totally perplexed. We kept the drinks in a small refrigerator at a set temperature that was only slightly below room temperature. I touched the bottles and they were absolutely fine. In fact, the fridge had just been stocked up and they probably could have done with being a bit colder.
Me: I'm sorry about that, I could swap them for you but they all come from the same fridge...
Customer: Put zem in ze microwave, it is not exactly hard, is it? My god...
I'm not a big fan of random strangers insulting my intelligence, particularly when they're the one suggesting putting children's drinks in an industrial microwave. But it was my job to make this arrogant arsehole feel like a king, so I took the drinks back to the kitchen, waited by the door for 30 seconds and returned. I gave the (completely unaltered) drinks back to him, he felt them, and exclaimed:
At last, my god, zat is ze way zey should have been already, now why has zis been so hard? I SHALL be complaining about zis.
-- and strutted off with a smug expression that made me wish guns were legal in my country.
Submitted June 03, 2015 at 03:06AM by hahaohdearlol http://ift.tt/1cwk2MF TalesFromRetail
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