Some servers may believe "the customer is always right", but if they had to deal with these nightmarish patrons, they would definitely think twice. These are the worst kind of people, who think a waiter should be treated like dirt. If a waiter tries to stand up for themselves, it can only end in mayhem and an expensive clean-up. Content has been edited for clarity.
All Eyes Were On Her
“When I was only 21, I was working as a waitress in an ‘old country store’ restaurant in the U.S. that serves Southern comfort food. The one thing the servers hated to see was a tour bus pull into the parking lot. These buses didn’t carry musicians; they carried elderly folks on group vacations. The reason we hated these buses was because we would get slammed with tables full of tired, cranky old folks who didn’t tip anything and were always demanding and difficult.
This particular day, we were already slammed by weekend lunch crowds, and my tables were full to bursting with old ladies heading to Vermont to view the fall colors of leaves. One of my tables that normally seats four people had a chair placed on the end to accommodate a party of five old ladies. This placed one of the ladies in the aisle where I had to walk in order to serve my other tables. I did my best to serve all four of my tables quickly and efficiently, but the old ladies were particularly needy and demanding, and they kept me running for something the entire time. The loudest and rudest of them was the lady sitting in the aisle.
After I served the old ladies their meals, I went back to the kitchen to get another order in. In order to serve them, I had to stand directly behind the chair of the aisle lady in a narrow opening between them. From the time I made my re-appearance and all the way through serving my other two customers, the aisle lady kept yelling, ‘Excuse me! Hey, waitress! I’m talking to you! How dare you ignore me!’
I was ignoring her, because I had a large tray with two plates of food, bread, and a bowl full jellies. I figured I would deliver the food and ensure my other table was set before finally turning around to address the harridan to my back, because they were my customers too and deserved my full attention.
My mistake.
No sooner than I set the second plate of dinner on the table, the witch sitting behind me shoved her chair back until it knocked into me. My large tray went flying and crashed to floor along with the bowl of jellies and basket of bread. The resounding crash echoed throughout the dining room and everyone went silent. All eyes were on me as I stood there stunned speechless by her actions. In the loaded silence, the old witch said smugly, ‘THAT got your attention, didn’t it?’
Not only was I mortified by the incident, but I was FURIOUS. Still, I needed my job to support my two-year-old baby, so I kept my composure. Without turning around to address her, I apologized to the flabbergasted couple I had been serving and promised to bring them more bread and jelly shortly. Still ignoring the witch and her table, I carefully cleaned up the mess and retreated to the kitchen. After getting more bread for my couple, I found my manager and handed him the five separate tickets for the table of old ladies and told him he would have to finish the table, because I refused to deal with them again. I am a very non-confrontational person and always eager to please, so the manager didn’t even blink before taking them over for me.
I was a waitress for over three years before I finally moved on to retail. I’ve never had anyone treat me with such callous disregard and rude behavior as I did when I worked as a restaurant server.”
Turns Out Revenge Does Pay
“I worked at a steak house in Albuquerque. This approximately 50-year-old woman came in with her sister, brother-in-law, and their kids. She was one of those customers who thinks the word ‘server’ means ‘personal servant’, but fine, that’s part of the job so I just rolled with it. They stayed for a REALLY long time. They were the last customers in the restaurant. They decided to have another round of drinks, but wanted the bill. Then they asked for dessert. I told them we had brownies or cake. Mean Customer told me, ‘Your menu says ice cream. Have you ever read your menu? I want ice cream!’
If she knew that, why didn’t she just order the ice cream? Who talks to someone like that? Ever? I told her yes, we did have ice cream. But our dessert freezer had been off-kilter and maintenance was coming to work on it, once all the customers left (hint hint). She just gave me this icy look and said, ‘I want ice cream. Your menu says you have ice cream.’
Her fellow diners tried to tell her there was an ice cream shop on the way home and they could stop there. Again, she told me, ‘I want ice cream. Bring me ice cream now!’
I walked back to the kitchen and told all the cooks this ridiculous story. I was just waiting for a few minutes so I could go back out and tell her it had all been thrown away. Well, the kitchen staff was not having this. Hector was the lead that day. He looked at me with a wicked twinkle in his eye and said, ‘Well if this special lady wants her ice cream, then you better bring her ice cream. The customer is always right.’
He put a giant but fancy glass bowl full of ice cream soup on the counter and reassured me that if we served it to her, she would never darken our door again. So I placed it on a tray and carried it to her table with much aplomb. Mean Customer beamed a cruel smile of victory as I approached the table. I set that bowl in front of her as if she were royalty. I handed her a clean spoon and began to walk away.
‘Oh, waitress!!! Come here NOW! This is serious!’
She then showed me the runny cream in her fancy bowl. ‘This is melted! Why would you serve me melted ice cream? You do not deserve a job! Where is your manager?’
Well, the manager was cleaning up the bar — and drinking — as we waited for them to leave so we could close. He looked at the lady and said, ‘Jen told you the freezer was broken and the ice cream was bad. You insisted that she bring it to you. I call that good service.’
He refused to comp their meal. I received no tip but was so relieved that they finally left. Now comes the happy ending. Two weeks later I covered a lunch shift. A guy comes in, tells me he is about to meet a blind date, so would I just bring him a drink for now. When I served the drink, his blind date had arrived and she was the Mean Ice Scream Queen! Clearly, she was very excited about the date. She was nicely dressed and trying so very hard to act like a pleasant person. So I proceeded to wait on him (and her by default) like royalty. We had similar senses of humor, so now the spontaneous jokes were flying, too. Poor, Mean Customer just fake-laughed and desperately tried not to look uncomfortable. When I brought the check, Mr. Blind Date gave me a big smile and handed me a $20 bill. He told me that was the best service he ever had and he would be coming back regularly to sit in my section. The woman desperately grasped his hand and gave me a mean girl smile. That $20 bill was worth hundreds in sweet vengeance.”
Country Club Chaos
“I used to work at a country club. There was a member who regularly came in completely wasted, with a different woman on his arm (he was married by the way, and it was never his wife on his arm), and they would drink a LOT. One night, he comes in by himself, wasted and stumbling as usual. Since the members paid a lot of money to join, we really weren’t allowed to kick him out unless he got belligerent or tried to start a fight. He was nice enough, but he just got loud and occasionally said really inappropriate things. One time, he offered to pay one of the other servers to go on a date with him. He had an event coming up and didn’t want to take his wife, so he offered to buy the girl a fancy, expensive dress, and would pay her $500 to accompany him. She declined.
It was Friday night Happy Hour. Super busy. My section was already full and it was 6:00. We started serving at 5:30. I was in the bar making my drinks, and this guy was sitting at the bar with one of my favorite members. My favorite member was this really nice guy who was also incredibly intelligent. I was surprised to see the two of them sitting together, and then realized that ‘Coach’ (that was the wasted member’s nickname) had probably just sat next to him and they started chatting. All of a sudden, Coach stops talking and looks me dead in the eye as I’m making my drinks. I have about seven different drinks I’m trying to make at once. I was just about finished. He looks at me and says VERY loudly, ‘Didn’t you and I hook up last week?’
The bar went dead silent. The member next to him looked horrified. I’ve never been so mortified in my entire life. And no, I hadn’t hooked up with him. I was happily married and I wouldn’t sleep with a sleazy old man anyways. I laughed. I don’t know why, but I laughed and said, ‘No, sorry, you must have me confused with someone else.’
And before he could say another word, I lifted my tray of drinks, served them to my tables, found my supervisor, told him what happened, and told him there was no way on Earth I was going back into that bar until Coach left. He made all my drinks until that man left. An investigation was done. The members who witnessed it had to go in front of the grievance committee. The staff members who witnessed it had to go in front of the grievance committee and submit written statements to HR. I had to submit a written statement to HR. His membership was revoked (with no refund) and he was banned for life from the club. He wasn’t even allowed to come as a guest. As of when I left, he actually used to drive his car through the parking lot every couple of weeks to see if we would let him in. We never did. He called the golf pro and tried to tell him that he was sober now, had gotten his act together, and could prove he was fit to come back. They refused.
Whether it’s fast food or a five-star restaurant, wait staff get treated like objects. He was not the first to say or do something inappropriate, and he will not be the last. He was just the only one to do something bad enough to get kicked out. I’m so glad I got out of food and beverage. The whole atmosphere is awful. If you thought Hollywood was bad, then you’ve never worked in food and beverage.”
Never Good Enough For Her
“Working at a restaurant years ago, my manager came to me as said, ‘Take this table that’s coming in. They have been here fairly often, but the gentleman is a complete monster, so just serve them, keep your temper, and don’t expect a tip.’
I seated the gentleman and his wife (who never spoke a word to me) and proceeded to run off the specials and take drinks orders. The gentleman was very abrupt but not particularly rude, and seemed to know what he wanted. Perhaps the wife couldn’t speak English, as she never spoke to me and their conversation was him asking questions and her answering in German. It all went off fairly well until it was time to lift the empty plates. He was sitting in front of an empty plate with knife and fork together at the 4 o’clock position (a convention indicating that the plate can be removed) and she was still eating. As I went in to lift the plate, he blocked me and said (in his abrupt way), ‘No! I’m still eating!’
I cleared the table when they were both done with no problem and offered desserts, which were declined. I went to prepare the bill and the manager came over and said, ‘He’s not going to tip you or he will give you a small amount, he’s done it before, so be ready.’
I dropped the bill and the gentleman indicated he would pay cash and I should wait. He counted out the bill exactly and then took a small coin (equivalent to a bit more than a dime) and pushed it across the table towards me with his index finger saying in his German accent, ‘That is your tip, it’s all you are worth.’
I collected the billfold, leaving the ‘tip’ on the table and replied, ‘Never mind sir, you keep it. You need it more than me,’ before walking away.
When I looked back they were leaving. The table was empty, and we never saw them again.”
Degrading Diner
“I was about 16 or 17 years old and had just started a new job as a waitress. It was my first week and I was very nervous. This guy came in with his wife and teenage son and sat in my section. The table had just been cleared, and there wasn’t any silverware on the table. I went to greet them, and he cut me off and asked, ‘Where is our silverware?! How do you expect us to eat with no silverware?’
I apologized and told him I’d grab it right away, and as I was walking away he yelled across the restaurant, ‘And bring me a flipping coffee!’
I came back to the table with the silverware and his coffee and he just stared at it. I asked him if everything was okay, and he glared at me and replied, ‘Are you an idiot? You must be an idiot! How am I supposed to stir my coffee with no spoon?! This restaurant made a mistake by hiring you. Bring me a spoon!’
At this point, I was so upset that I ran into the back crying and asked my manager to take the table. As they were leaving, I watched the man take money out of his wallet, crumple it up, and threw it under the table. That was my tip. I’ll never forget that. I’m ashamed to say this, but I crawled under the table to get the tip. That was the most degraded I’ve ever felt in my entire life.”
“Her Words Were A Punch To The Stomach”
“When I was 18 or so, I worked at a Subway sandwich shop for about 6 months. Since this was 20-some years ago, the practice (in this shop at least) was that the employees didn’t wear gloves while we prepared the veggies or made customers’ sandwiches. We were responsible for washing our hands after handling money, between orders, and so forth. I have eczema which for me, fortunately only meant having heat or cold rashes that would show up in areas easily covered with clothing. At least, that was the case until I started handling foods like banana peppers, olives and pickles on a regular basis. The acidic juices from these veggies burned my hands to such an extent that it looked as though I had been severely burned in a fire. And not only did this affect my vanity, my skin hurt terribly as well. It seemed there was not enough moisturizer or anti-itch cream to make the pain go away, so I went to my dermatologist. That doctor recommended that I wear disposable gloves any time that I handled food, so I bought myself a box of gloves at the closest pharmacy and took it into work with me the next day.
In the early afternoon, a sweet-looking lady who I would guesstimate to have been in her late 70s came in. She asked me, ‘Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?’ She looked like somebody’s kindly little grandmother. The type who bake cookies for the kids next door and crochet booties for babies. I half-expected her to ask about my love life or my career plans, just like some of my aunts and other relatives would, so I responded, ‘Well, provided it’s not too personal, sure.’
‘What is wrong with your hands?’ she asked.
I wasn’t too crazy about how she phrased that question, but I could understand why she might want to know that, especially given that I’d be preparing her food. I started to tell her about the eczema, how I’d had an allergic reaction to handling the food, and how it wasn’t contagious when she rudely cut me off.
‘Is there somebody else here who can make my sandwich?’
‘No,’ I reply. ‘I’m the only one—’
She speaks over me again, saying, ‘Because I consider people like you to be lepers and I don’t want you handling my food.’
Her words were a punch to the stomach. I was shocked that someone could say, much less think what she was saying. I wanted to cry. It was at this moment that my boss came to the counter. He’d been working in the backroom just around the corner and heard the entire exchange. At that moment, I was hoping on some level that he would refuse to serve the little granny and kick her out of the shop, but instead he offered to make her sandwich. I guess he met her exacting standards of cleanliness, because she allowed him to make her Cold Cut Combo.
A minute or two later, another customer came in, so I pulled myself together, took the man’s order and started making his meatball sub. I honestly didn’t mean to do it, but apparently when I moved his sandwich over to start loading it up with all the veggies he requested, I put his sandwich right next to hers. She went apoplectic, freaking out that her sandwich was ‘contaminated’ since I had touched it, she needed a new one because I was a ‘freak’, and she was ‘losing her appetite as we speak.’
Before I could tune her out, I heard her say, ‘What business does someone like her have working around food, anyway? She’s disgusting!’
With those comments, the tears that I’d been trying to hold back started pouring down my face. I managed to give my customer a polite apology, then I ran to the backroom, leaving my boss to sort it out. I didn’t really care if he fired me at that moment; I just wanted to get away from that hateful woman before she could spew any more venom at me. I made it to the backroom, sat on a stool, and cried so hard, I was shaking.
When he finished up with the two customers, he came back and talked to me. Now, that boss may not have always done things right, but he told me to take all the time I needed to calm down and, when I was ready, to go home and take the rest of the day off with pay. He said something to the effect of being shocked that someone who looked so nice could say something so mean, but then again, some people wear their ugliness on the inside.
It was only later that I could giggle, thinking if she was so disgusted over the idea of having a sandwich made by me, how insanely she would react upon finding out that her ‘pure little sandwich’ was made on bread that I baked, using meats I had handled long before she darkened the doorstep, plus veggies from containers that I filled with my two ‘disgusting’ little hands! At least that gave me some measure of satisfaction.”
Panda-monium!
“I work at Panda Express, and I can say that after 5 months of working there, I have never had anything close to what happened that day happen again. Thank God. During the summer, when I would work 40–50 hour work weeks, I would have the chance to see a lot of different types of people. Thankfully, I would say that 90% were nice. But this one day, I wasn’t so lucky.
Around 2 p.m., my coworker and I were just starting to recover from the lunch rush. The sun was ferociously shining into the store, simultaneously highlighting all the stains on the windows that are near impossible to clean (a professional window cleaner usually comes once a month, but it was nearing the end of the month). The windows were stained but to be completely honest, they were not that bad.
This one middle-aged male walks in. He wears ragged clothes and he walks in as though slightly disoriented. Before coming up to the counter, I notice his eyes roaming for something. It is as though he is hungry, but the source of his hunger is not food. I was working the shift with this guy named Philip, and it was only his first week or so. Nearing the counter, this man immediately starts yelling, ‘You know, when I walked in here, I almost threw up. The windows look like TURDS. Look at them! Look at this!’ he proceeded to point to a tray lying on the table, ‘Look at this! How is your store so dirty? Are you both idiots?!’
At this point, I was also relatively new and quite shaken. Our manager was on break. Nobody was there but us two. How could he talk to us like that? And knowing that I had to be polite to any and every customer, I was mad at myself. How could I let him talk to me like that? A middle-aged man yelling at two 16 year olds?? Despite my own anger, my main focus was on making sure my coworker, who seemed to be easily agitated in general, would keep his cool.
‘I’m sorry sir, we just finished a lunch rush and haven’t had time to clean the dining area,’ I said calmly. Philip stayed silent and shocked.
‘You haven’t had time?!’ he yelled, ‘You both will grow up to be failures as adults! You don’t even have the brain capacity to clean an effin’ table!’
He then proceeded to yell out a few more cruel statements very closely resembling the last: pretty much how we were useless, hopeless, pieces of garbage. I managed to squawk out ‘sorry’ one last time before he walked through the lobby, flipped over a tray, and left. I saw him roam aimlessly in the parking lot after that. I have never had another encounter close to that.”
Barista Battle
“When working for Starbucks, any barista has a wealth of stories about entitled customers who all have the ‘I want to speak to your manager’ haircuts and attitude. This woman, who had a daughter in the middle school up the street from my store, would come in every morning and get a frappuccino and a croissant for her daughter, and a latte for herself. She was constantly impatient because, ‘The school bell was about to ring’.
Every morning for three months. One day she literally started snapping her fingers at me as if I were a dog. She expected the customers in front of her to get out of the way and let her go first. The man in front of her matter-of-factly turned around and said, ‘I am in here every morning, and every morning you act like you don’t know what time your own child’s school starts and expect the staff here to kiss your butt. That’s not how it works. Leave earlier and stop being such a monster!’
She went ashen, then red and started shaking, and was about to go off on him when the rest of the people in line in front of him started clapping. She grabbed her daughter and said, ‘I am never coming back here!’
I smiled and said, ‘Bless your heart, hun.’
The guy who said exactly what I wanted to but couldn’t received free coffee and food that day.”
All Of This Over A Muffin?
“I used to work at a cafeteria on the lower floor of a medical software company about 7 years ago. This cafeteria served the whole building, which comprised many companies, not just the medical software company. Their sodas, coffees, and teas were free and their food was discounted as long as they wore their company badge. So here comes this woman from another company on the far side of the building. She walks up to the coffee station, which is right in front of my register and proceeds to use sugar, cream, and milk to put in her coffee. I was counting money because we had just opened, so I was unsure whether she got our coffee or not, but I assumed she did because she was our official cup.
She walked by me and I asked her if someone had already charged her. She and I had had issues before, because she was not a cool customer. She was much, much taller than I am, so she came within three inches of my face and spat, ‘This coffee is from my house.’
I said, ‘Fine, so the chocolate muffin is $1.35.’
She said, ‘This is my muffin that I brought from my house.’
I lost my cool and said, ‘I’m sorry, but these muffin cups, like the one you have on your plate there, with the green stars, those are ordered from a different state and they are not from your house, so that will be $1.35.’
She put the cup down, walked over to the muffin station, and said she wanted to talk to my boss. I said I’d go get him. As I walked by her to get to the back of the kitchen, she threw that muffin at the wall. She yelled a whole 45 seconds about how prejudiced I was because she wouldn’t steal anything ever. My boss ended up not charging her and she left, feeling victorious.
My boss got an e-mail that afternoon from her boss apologizing to me and saying that someone had witnessed the whole thing, e-mailed him, and told him that she was indeed trying to steal the coffee and the muffin. I was never aware that anyone else other than she and I were in the cafeteria that morning. She must’ve been talked to, because she didn’t show up in the cafeteria for a good two months after that.”
“Chases Me Down, Shoving Me To The Side”
“My last table of the night was horrific! It was a husband and wife from out of state. Because they had out-of-state licenses, I had to ask for two forms of ID if they wanted to drink (it was the restaurant’s policy). This frustrated them, and they made sure I knew it. Once I delivered their drinks and took their food orders to the kitchen, my manager comes up to me and asked if I had served the last table. This couple said I never returned with their drinks, so I returned to the problem table. Turns out they sucked their drinks right down and wanted another round. After I give their drink orders to the bartender, I notice the husband wandering around the restaurant. He goes into our dish room and our kitchen, stopping servers and asking about his drinks. I return to the table with round 2 of drinks, but the wife gives me way too much attitude while her husband is looking for me still. They thought the drinks took too long to arrive, even though we were super busy and I couldn’t control the bar.
The husband returns to the table angrily questioning me. I thought I would diffuse the tension by checking on their food. As I’m waiting by the kitchen to get their food, the husband returns with some very loud complaints. I take the food to their table, but now he wants all of their order to be comped. Apparently there was something nasty in one of their drinks. I tell him that I can’t take the drinks off of the bill, as they already finished them all.
All of a sudden the man goes off on me. He claims his wife’s mac and cheese was moldy. He didn’t think his steak was good enough to eat. I simply told them I would get the manager. As soon as I said that, the guy lost it and chases me down, shoving me to the side as I’m trying to walk. He is like trying to race me to my own manger. We both walk up to my manger and he refuses to pay for the meal. Apparently their server refused to check on them and their drinks took forever to arrive.
This man fully rushes out to our hostess stand and makes a scene, so the restaurant can hear and see him carrying on. Then my manger explains to him she will take off their food, but they need to pay for the drinks they already have had. This ticks him off and he supposedly has to go outside to get his money. He returned and kept calling all of us names while paying.
I was already in a sad mood, and this just ruined my night! I just can’t understand why a customer would lie and make things up to a manger. To stand there in front of my face and say I never checked on you and ignored you is a flat-out lie. I don’t deserve to be lied about and cussed out and called names when I didn’t do anything wrong. The couple next to this problem table saw everything and apologized to me. They also left me a $30 tip, which was beyond kind of them. Because the problem table of course left me $0.”
Malicious Milkshake Encounter
“A little over 5 years ago, I was serving a family of three during breakfast. The dad and his daughter order a strawberry shake, but the mom is in her own world when she orders a coffee. I return with their drinks, take an order and deliver another set of their drinks, and taker their food orders. Milkshake Dad comes up to me while I’m putting in the order, so I stop and turn to him. Now my morning is gonna get interesting.
He stars asking me why he got charged for 2 shakes, an adult and a kid shake. I told him he asked for a kid shake and then later asked for an adult shake, so I rang them in. Then he explodes. Now he’s saying, almost yelling, that he only wanted an adult shake. I tell him that’s not what he said. Now he’s saying how stupid I am that I can’t get a simple order right. I told him that they could fix his check at the cash register up front and walked away, while he was still insulting me.
He’s still cussing me out while I take other peoples’ orders. This couple’s kid looked offended for me. The manager got this man to calm down and threatens to kick him out. Suddenly, Milkshake Dad runs up at me with the kid-sized shake in his hand and slams on the counter right next to me. He talks about how I look like I would want the shake (I’m a big girl, but my husband loves me and more importantly, I love me). I politely tell him no. He calls me a disgusting cow and walks away. I simply call out to him, ‘Have a nice day!’ with my customer service smile.
During this whole time, the mom never said a word. Two of the tables nearby gave me extra tips after they saw what went down. I don’t understand why people see the need to be mean to waitstaff or anyone in retail. If everyone worked just one day in customer service or a restaurant, I think the world would be better for it.”
Human Garbage Comes Up To The Counter
“When I was younger, I worked in a fast food restaurant in North Carolina. We had a soft-serve ice cream machine and fresh fruit toppings, all very popular. So one afternoon, a man and his grandson came in and he ordered a sundae, which we didn’t have. We had small Styrofoam bowls, and spoons, so I improvised. The man and his grandson were happy, and all was well. Then, another customer came up to the counter. This man was a regular, and he was horrid. He smelled like drinks, sweat, and body odor. He used foul language, even while giving his orders. ‘I’ll have one o’ them effin’ burger things, and a Coke. Oh, and add on some o’ them effin’ fries, while you’re at it, sweet-cheeks. Heh heh.’
He also was really vocal about his prejudice. When he walked up to the counter on this day, I knew what would happen. See, the man and his grandson were African-American. This human garbage said, ‘Hey, darlin’. Why don’t you make me one o’ them sundaes, like you did for that black baby over there?’
Except he didn’t say ‘black’. The grandpa picked up his grandson, nodded to me, and left. That’s when I absolutely lost it. I can’t even remember what I said exactly, but I yelled at that man for at least five minutes. I told him he was a disgrace, that he should be ashamed of himself, and that I hoped he died in a fire. I told him he wasn’t allowed back in the restaurant ever again, and that if I saw him, I’d kill him. I said other stuff, too. I was on a roll. That’s when my manager came to see what all the fuss was about. As soon as this human garbage saw my tiny manager, he started backing away from the counter. Apparently, they’d already had this conversation, and he’d been warned. She told him to get out, never come back, and if she saw him again, she’d have him arrested.
I was in the office shaking, when she came to get me. As soon as I saw her, I started crying. I figured she’d either write me up, or fire me. She grabbed a bottle of something from the desk drawer, and we celebrated the end of having to deal with him. Well, the next day when I came to work, my co-worker grabbed me and gave me a huge hug. When she heard about who I dealt with, she was so sorry. When she learned that she’d never have to deal with that customer, again, she told her husband they’d have company for dinner. I did go to dinner with them, and our sons are still very close friends, to this day. In fact, her son will be officiating my son’s wedding, in a few months. I can’t wait.”
Mama Bear On Defense!
“I was managing a restaurant at age 21. I look much younger than my age, which I hear all the time. This woman and her family, about 6 or 7 of them in total, ate their meals most of the way through and then she began to complain. I didn’t think what she ordered a good bargain or the best quality honestly, so she wasn’t totally wrong. I offered her another meal in place of the burger. After several other attempts of trying to get her to accept the offer, telling her, ‘Yes ma’am, I’m sure I’m the manager’, and adding free dessert, that wasn’t good enough for her. She insisted she get her money back. She was really rude, and I could tell she was trying to intimidate me by showing off her tattoos, tongue ring and brass knuckles necklace.
The reason I was hesitant to give the money back was because the owner was really keen on giving as little money back as possible. One of my male co-workers came out, and she tried telling on me for refusing to give her money back. I decided to give her the money and free dessert for the whole table. The situation was over. Resolved.
A few days later, I got a call from my boss asking about this same situation, I thought, ‘How does he know about this? I thought it was taken care of!’
One of his friends sent him a screenshot of this lady’s post on Facebook, bashing the business and ME personally. It read something along the lines of, ‘Went to this restaurant and had the most horrible experience. I’ve always loved this place and it has gone so downhill. It is run by KIDS and the snotty nosed girl who looked 12 and was claiming to be the manager. She refused to give me my money back for this garbage!’
(She added pictures of her food here, but they were obviously edited to look worse).
‘Once I told her that I was calling the owner about the attitude I received from her, she sucked her pouty lip in and gave me my money back! NO ONE messes with this MAMA BEAR when her KIDS are involved. Will never be back until SHE is gone!’
After scrolling through her page, I realized that it was just the type of person she is and tried not to take it personally. At the time though, I was going through extreme anxiety issues and trying to quit smoking, so it hit me hard. But to this day, that’s the worst I was ever made to feel by a customer. I took a lot of pride in that job. Hey, at 21 I was the manager of a restaurant. I thought that was pretty good.”