I hate talking with rednecks on the phone. I got into a 30 minute "conversation" (read: He dominated it with his chatter) to tell me in a convoluted, roundabout way that another customer had grabbed his double meat sandwich by mistake and customer's wife came home despite the sandwich being taken, and the customer had to dress it up with lots of meats and veggies to make it feel like a hefty sandwich.
It took me fifteen minutes to get to the part where he said someone took his fucking sandwich, because at first from the way he was telling the story he made it sound like we just made the sandwich wrong.
No, it turned out that his wife had five sandwiches, so while one person was on the meats working on that, the person who should have been on veggies instead jumped ahead to get the next person, who also had five sandwiches, and things got confused. WHY THE FUCK DO PEOPLE TAKE ORDERS LIKE THAT? It should always be one person on meat and one person on veggies just to avoid those sorts of mix ups!
And then I got to hear about how the man was a regular for years and years, and how usually he liked to get a meatball, but he wouldn't have us cut the sandwich, HE'D cut the sandwich, and freeze one half, and did you know that meatball subs can freeze for MONTHS, and he lives out in X town and doesn't get out very often to our store, but he just loves us, and he was trying something new by getting a BMT, and next time he probably would just go back and get a meatball like he usually gets......
FUCKING SHOOT ME NOW. TWICE TO MAKE SURE. I'm from the North, I don't have time for convoluted conversations because you're lonely, and your family doesn't listen to you because you take 30 minutes to tell me a 2 minute story. I left a note for the manager to deal, because I certainly hope I will not. 28 minutes of my life GONE.