What is going on with travellers in Asia? Is there something in the coffee they're serving? All of these events have happend in the last week and I had them lined up to post on RHU. Today's Chinese Travel Hell report from Mail Online is about the newest incident of women fighting over baby noise, but includes information about all of the crazy things passengers have been doing on Chinese airlines.
From Mail Online:
A brawl involving three women erupted on a Chinese flight from to Chongqing to Hong Kong yesterday when two of them complained to a mum that her baby was making too much noise.
The women, all believed to be Chinese, were warned that the pilot would be forced to turn back and make an emergency landing if they didn't stop fighting.
The dispute arose on an Air China flight that took off at 9am after two women were awakened by the baby's cries and complained to 27-year-old mother, Chan Juan Sung.
As the situation escalated, the two women reclined their seats fully backwards, which aggravated things further.
A scuffle ensued, with one of the women hitting on her head on the overhead locker, until cabin crew managed to step in and separate the women.
Passenger Xiong Wan, 45, said: 'I was sitting right next to them when they started telling the woman to shut the baby up.
'She started shouting back at them and before I knew what was happening she leant over the seat and punched one of them.
'They then started hitting her and all hell broke loose.
'They were fighting, the baby was now screaming and other passengers were shouting. It was like some bizarre film.'
Thankfully for the other passengers on board, the flight landed at its scheduled time of 10:52am. Hong Kong police were waiting to interview passengers about the incident.
Air China spokesman Daio Weimin said: ‘Passengers cannot behave like this.
‘Each and everyone must adhere to aviation laws to ensure a safe and comfortable flight for all.’
The past few days have seen an alarming number of incidents on Chinese planes.
A man on board a Chinese domestic flight caused panic when he opened the emergency exit just before take-off as he 'wanted some fresh air.'
The passenger was on a Xiamen Air flight from Hangzhou to Chengdu, and although cabin crew managed to diffuse the situation quickly and the flight took off on time.
Only days before, a Chinese man had opened the emergency exit and deployed the slide after wanting to 'get off quicker' from his China Eastern flight that landed at Sanya Fenghaung International Airport in Hainan.
Prior to this, a Chinese woman scalded a flight attendant by throwing a cup of hot noodles after finding out she wouldn't be sat next to her boyfriend.
The incident occurred on a charter flight from Bangkok to Nanjing, China, and passengers were on hand to pull out their smartphones as the mid-air drama unfolded in front of them, snapping pictures as the injured flight attendant covered her face and shouted in pain.
I had recently transferred to a hardware store location that rhymes with Ho's in my college town after I moved there and this woman in her late 40s walks up to me smiling. I remember her from earlier because she had gone through my line. Let's call her Pushy Mom.
Pushy Mom: My son wants me to get your number.
Me: Oh! Uhm... we're not really allowed to give out our personal phone numbers. -looks around- (Omg! How can I get out of this?!)
Pushy Mom: Oh come on. Just give me your number! He's out in the parking lot in the car right now. He sent me because he just got off of work and is really dirty and didn't want to make a bad impression!
Me: (Well, the impression right now that you're giving me is BAD!) I'm not really comfortable with this. Maybe if he came up to me himself?
Pushy Mom: Just give me your NUMBER!!!!!
Me: I just moved here and I don't know my number yet. (I really didn't want to give her my cell number. But, I did have the rejection hotline number with the area code in my pocket just in case...) I wrote down the number of the landline where I'm staying in my pocket... Hold on.
-copies down the rejection hotline number on a slip of receipt paper-
And then she stomped away in a huff after badgering me for my phone number for her son... who was in the parking lot the whole time watching all of that unfold.
I really hope he learned his lesson and stopped sending his mom to ask out ladies for him.
It's still exhausting at the Popular Canadian Coffee Chain because everyone in the city apparently loves this location (I need to keep reminding myself that I'm moving away in March, so I'll be free! from this Tim Hortons). Today I'm talking about two things.
One's an insane customer and the other is a very positive experience as a customer.
So, the insane customer. The PCCC has a display case where we keep the donuts and cookies and other baked goods, and when someone orders something from that, the cashier picks up a wax paper thing and gets the baked good and puts it in a bag without touching the good directly. The vast majority of people don't really pay attention. (I do the right thing and if I touch the donut or whatever, I toss it and get another one as per store regulations since I've been handling money.) Some people want the wax paper thing in the bag so they don't make a mess when eating the baked good.
But this lady...oh, god this lady.
She ordered a croissant and constantly waffled between wanting the cheese and the plain. People do that sometimes, usually it's fine, but in this case, the lady refused to admit that she was changing her mind. She was pretending that she had always ordered the one she was currently focused on. Once she'd finally settled on one (while insisting that she had ordered it from the start) I get the wax paper and get the croissant and put it in the bag while being very careful not to touch it, and I was being gentle with it, since it's a croissant. They get crushed very easily. She then claimed that I had been rubbing my hands all over it and had not used the wax paper. Which was not true.
So I put the first one back since I knew it was fine and got another one while showing her every step in the process. She made the same claim, even though my partner vouched that I had done everything properly. I asked the lady if she wanted someone else to get the croissant, but she said no and stomped out.
Five minutes later, when I was helping a different customer, the lady came back in, wanted to order again, and when I said that I would just be a second (because the customer I was helping was paying, and we can't do anything with the register while someone was paying) she pointed at me, took a deep breath, and started screaming at the top of her lungs like a toddler having a temper tantrum.
She was at least 40, well dressed, and giving the impression of someone with a brain, until she talked. The boss told me to go into the back and tried to get her to explain what her problem was, but she screamed for 10 minutes, after I'd gone into the back.
Eventually a security guard for the mall came along and escorted her away because people were complaining about her. Apparently she got kicked out of the mall after she attacked a security guard. He was fine. She was banned for two months.
Now it's time for the good experience:
I was trying to hunt down a copy of a board game for my parent's Christmas present. Specifically, one that focuses on endeavors pertaining to minor bits of non-necessary knowledge. It turns out that it's out of print in Canada, aside from two themed versions and a version my parents already have that's crap. (On a side note, I noticed on my hunt that the generic versions of most board games are out of print in Canada while the themed versions are freely available. I guess that works for Monopoly, but for the games where the questions are different depending on the version, that's kind of a problem).
Anyway, I found this little board game store near my therapist's office and they didn't have it. But, the guy there, who turned out to be the owner, had the resources to find a copy. It took half an hour, but we found a copy in another little game store in Thunder Bay and they shipped it here, so I was able to get it for slightly more than the recommended price, but it was the newest version and it was new. The store owner could have just told me they didn't have it, but he took half an hour out of his day (and the store wasn't dead. There were customers in and out the whole time, and he helped them out when they needed it too) to help me with something that didn't even make him any profit.
So thank you board game store guy!
I've been in retail for about 7 years now and have worked both family owned and a stint at a certain game store (where power is in the players!). Weeee!! Long time lurker and I've commented a few times. I've got PLENTY of stories of: People not understanding how plants work, whats a return policy?, creepy custies and many more! But figured I'd share with y'all the absolute GEM of a lady I dealt with today as my debut post.
So buckle up and strap on your retail helmets this a bit of a long bumpy ride!
Little background: I work for a family owned garden center that sells plants, patio furniture, garden care and other garden shit all year round. We sell Christmas decorations for indoor (articifial trees, ornaments, knick-knacks ect) and outdoor (live trees, roping, lights, ect) that we start putting up in September but that's a whole other crock of shit. We set up artificial trees on the floor, people bring up a little tag they take from the tree and I (cashier) ring it up. I then call it up from the warehouse for a stock guy to bring it up and load up for the custy. Bing Bang Boom should be easy; get out. Well when we get down to the last tree it gets a little quirky. We would normally indicate on the tree its the floor model, knock an extra 10% off and give the person the display box so they can pack their tree away.
Okie Doke so I'm doing my thing on the registers, my coworker who's a head cashier and a real sweetheart is ringing up folks too. Lady comes up (Who I will now indicate as PrissyBitch (PB)) and hands me a tree tag.
The exchange goes as follows:
GreenThornThumb: "Hi how are you today?"
Prissy Bitch: *Mutters under breath as she drops her big ass coach purse on counter, nearly crushing my hand*
Prissy Bitch: "No." *Shoves tree tag in my face*
GTT: "Ok so just the tree for you then." I ring up the tree, stock says we have 3, cool. I radio to my stock guy (who is now referred to as DebbyDowner).
Prissy hands me a card, and mutters 'debit' under her breath... Ok I don't know your goddamn pin so i hand it back to her and have her run the card. The fact that she paid debit is a crucial point to this tale.I hand PB her receipt and tell her that the stock guy will bring the tree up and load it in her car. She pulls out her BMW keys and starts tapping he foot impatiently 5 ft away from my register. I start ringing up other peeps and its all going daisy til I hear DD on the radio.
DD: "GTT that tree is a floor model......" FUCK is all I can think as I'm internally screaming. "Does the customer still want it?" *Sigh* I walk over to Prissy and inform her that it's the last one, we can get the box for her and take it down if she still wants the tree.
She blinks a few times at me before spitting "Ok well the tag didn't say it was a floor model. I see wires and other crap wrong with that one so NO I don't want it!" Ok I inform DD she doesn't want it, and I tell her that she can get back into my now forming line and I'd gladly do the return.This isnt the first time a custy has refused a floor model; not really a huge deal. I ring up all these other peeps til she finally comes up. This is where the shit starts spreading throughout the room after already hitting the fan.
Prissy Bitch: "So can you just delete this transaction since I paid with a debit?" she snarls as she waves her crappy debit card in my face.
GTT: "Sorry no our system wont allow us to do that we have to do the return on the card that was used. For debit we would return it as credit."
GTT: (I'm pretty much done with this snotty bitch at this point) "Ok well I can't do anything else besides return the amount onto the card you used, I'm sorry."
She is clicking her long fake nails on the counter as I process the return, hissing about how this is ridiculous and blah blah blah.
Prissy Bitch: "Ok well the tag didn't say it was the last one!" she roars in my face as her return receipt is slowing crawling out of the printer.
GTT: "I'm sorry about that ma'am-" I've been apologizing throughout this goddamn transaction and at this point she cuts me off.
Prissy Bitch: "Do you you guys mark off floor models any more?" she snaps.
GTT: "Yes we normally do but-" she cuts me off again before I could inform her that the tree she had was on clearance and even the floor models don't get additional discounts.
Prissy: "WELL YOU DIDN'T EVEN OFFER THAT TO ME!!!" she roars as I'm stapling her return receipt to her old one. "THIS WAS JUST A BIG WASTE OF TIME I STOOD HERE FOR 25 MINUTES WAITING FOR THIS STUPID TREE AND IN THIS LINE FOR THIS STUPID RETURN AND I'M NOT GETTING MY MONEY BACK RIGHT AWAY ROARRRRRRR THIS IS RIDICULOUS SNARLLLLLL!!"
GTT: *eye twitch as my patience finally snaps* "Well I'm sorry you feel that way ma'am." And I looked her dead in the eye as I held out her receipt for her. She stood flabbergasted for a few seconds before snatching the receipt from me.
P Bitch: "WHAT?! SORRY?! YOU WITNESSED THIS WHOLE ORDEAL AND ALL YOU CAN SAY IS SORRY?! THIS IS RIDICULOUS WE'RE LEAVING LETS GO TIFFANY!!" she screeches as she dragged her daughter away by her Gucci purse strap.
I simply shrugged as the next custy approached and simply said with a smirk: "Well she wasn't a happy camper eh?"
To which I replied: "Tis the season!"
I finished ringing up other custys, who were all pleasant and honestly shocked at this crusty ass lady's behavior.I had to have giant toffee bar to get rid of PB's crusty odor from my mouth.
And surprise surprise I go and put the tag back: It's on the goddamn tree that WAS the last one and that it was being clearanced out, so NO DISCOUNT.....JESUS TAP DANCING CHRIST USE YOUR EYES PEOPLE!!!
*Sigh* So here I've spun a sample tale of entitled crusties who shop at my store quite often, and I have many more to come. Sorry for the long post, and may all your custies be kind and quick!
Sent to RHU from Speedbird:
A row has broken out between a fussy restaurant customer and her favourite Frankie & Benny's after they refused to serve her because she sends too many meals back to the kitchen.
Kerry Prior, 34, went to the restaurant in Aldershot, Hampshire as often as three times a week and says she likes 'having a laugh with staff' about the quality of food.
But her fussiness appears to have angered a chef at the restaurant, who refused to cook for her again after she made a string of complaints.
Mrs Prior had visited the restaurant around three times a week to eat breakfast with friends, often asking to have a £5 'The Works Muffin' in a bagel.
She also goes there for an evening meal with her husband, Tony, 41, and their four-year-old son, Cole, at least twice a month.
She admits she often returns food to the kitchen, but says she still likes the service at the restaurant and so keeps returning.
Mrs Prior, from near Farnham, Surrey, said: 'The staff are generally really nice in there and if you send the food back it comes back completely fine.
'I know all the staff there and there is a pleasant atmosphere. I have a laugh with them about the food and when they get it right, it is great.
'Around 90 per cent of the time I go in there I think I have had to send my meal back.
'I know I am fussy but I'm never rude and if I send it back it always comes back fine - the food should be of a certain standard.'
She added: 'On one particular Sunday I went with seven friends and we all sent our breakfasts back. The food was burnt, it had cold bacon which tasted like it had just come from the fridge.
'I am allergic to tomatoes and they had put them on my plate with fried eggs when I had asked for poached. Another time I was served a frozen fish finger and frozen chips.
'If you order a rare steak at a restaurant and it comes to you well done you are entitled to send it back.'
When I opened the front door, my mother handed me four cases of yogurt. All strawberry. She doesn't notice flavors. Coffee, vanilla, blueberry - they don't mean a thing. I asked her how much I owed her, and she told me that with the coupons, and how she used them on double-down day, that she actually made money off the purchase. I told her I didn't see how such a thing was possible, and she explained that the yogurts were a buck apiece and her coupons were for 75 cents. Doubled, that's $1.50.
"I make 50 cents off each one I buy," she said.
She was excited because she had a project for the two of us: a defective shirt that needed exchanging. She got it from a clothing store near my house that has been around for decades. When I was a kid, my mother would bring me there to try on bell-bottoms, making me undress right in the aisles.
"What's wrong with the shirt?" I asked.
It should be said that my father has left the house in far worse: green corduroy vests, T-shirts advertising aquarium supplies, ties intended for novelty use only. If it were handed to him as he was getting out of a shower, I'm sure my father would figure out a way to wear a bridge chair. I asked how a missing sleeve might have escaped her notice during the purchase. She didn't remember. She bought it a long time ago.
"How long ago?" I asked.
She didn't really get the question. Life for my mother wasn't exactly a chronological unraveling. She was coming to visit me. I was around the corner from the store. It was just a clever thing to return it now - killing two birds with one stone. She looked at the bag and thought for a moment.
"Five years," she said.
This kind of operation was what my mother lived for. It would be a challenge; a battle of wills - a game of chess, but with yelling. I remember as a kid watching her open three bottles of tahini, one after the other. She wasn't satisfied with the hermetic popping sound the caps made - it was too muted. She liked a pop that was more emphatic, a pop that cried, "I have not been sprinkled with hemlock." She returned all of them to a grocery store she chose not because she'd bought the tahini there, but because of its proximity to our house. The store didn't sell tahini. I'm not sure they even knew what it was.
To be honest, it isn't that my mother exerts Clarence Darrow-like powers of persuasion; it's that she has no shame. None at all. As an adult, I seem to have taken on the extra shame she has no use for. I don't like to draw attention to myself. If a waitress gets my order wrong, I keep my mouth shut. If a bus driver goes past my stop, I just get off at the next one. Scenes just aren't my thing. But even now, no matter where I go with my mother, there are always the inevitable spectacles. Just the thought of her getting all froth-mouthed about that one-armed shirt - it was enough to make me queasy.
At the store, my mother went to the cash register and pulled the article of clothing out of the crumpled plastic bag.
The saleswoman looked at it. Then she held it up and turned it around.
"It doesn't have sleeves," the saleswoman said. "It's a poncho."
"A pon-cho?" my mother repeated, as though it were a foreign word - which, in her defense, I suppose it sort of is.
You would think that would be the end of it, that confronted with reason, my mother would accept the fact that we live in a universe where such a thing as a poncho exists, and we would leave. But this was not to happen. Reason is of no concern in a staring contest. "I don't care what it is," she said evenly. "It's factory-defective. My husband can't wear it."
I thought of my father, a man very big on tucking in - sweaters, aquarium-supply T-shirts - packing the bottom of the poncho into his pants, belting up and heading out for an evening on the town looking like Fatty Arbuckle.
The saleswoman refused to give the money back, so my mother asked her to get the manager. She disappeared behind a row of suit jackets and as we waited for her return, I remained by my mother's side, standing there in this way I later realized I had developed as a kid. It was a posture that was meant to convey filial loyalty, peppered with a touch of what Vietnam vets call the thousand-yard stare. In the back room, I imagined the saleswoman conferring with the manager, a bedraggled, shiny-jowled man, as he stared at my mother through a security cam, watching with a look of recognition that quickly turned to panic.
When the saleswoman returned, she immediately started offering store credit. That was a mistake. Weakness. "Credit? So you can unload socks on us?" my mother asked. "We need more socks like we need rickets."
Desperate to defuse the situation, I grabbed a baseball cap off a nearby shelf and handed it to my mother. Reluctantly, she got it for me with her credit. "Lucky for you my boy needs a hat," she said. "Walk around in it. Make sure it isn't too tight around the temples."
As we left the store together, my new cap on my head, I felt about 10 years old. "I'll hold on to the receipt," my mother said. "Just in case."
Hey everyone, I'm a first time poster, blah, blah, blah...anyway, call me Freckles. This is from approximately five years ago. I worked shortly for a store in NYC in the west village called Chef & Sommelier (it closed shortly after I quit in a dramatic fashion so, don't care about blowing up their spot). We sold all sorts of flatware, dishes, wine glasses, you get the picture. BTW, this is a bit lengthy.
Bitchface coworker was hiding in the basement stockroom watching some show on the laptop leaving me alone upstairs. More than fine with me.
So, I see 'her' walk (and I use that word loosely) across West Broadway headed straight for my front door. She is not the typical customer to come in for a $70 set of 4 wine glasses. She was scary skinny, face looking like a bar room floor, tee shirt, baggy jeans and flip flops. Oh yeah, it's December and like 17 degrees out. Okay, I'll play, I'm bored as shit. Big mistake, huge.
She comes in, I immediately greet her ask if she needs help and I can't help but notice the startling amount of missing teeth in her head. Oh shit! I so see where this is going; also noticing the teeth grinding, jerky movements and crazy eyes. She ignores me and like a moth drawn to a flame, she hones in on a rocks glass with a 1/2 inch thick bottom. It's leaded crystal i.e., expensive. And, here come the crazy train full speed into the station.
She brings the rocks glass to me at the counter and starts demanding answers to all these crazy questions:
The gems include:
"I need this right this second how much??" (After I tell her, she really went off the rails)
"What bitch! Don't you get it? I need it now! Can't I just have this one? The display?"
"I need it to heat something up in it, will it crack?
"Will it explode?"
Yeah, bitch was cooking meth in her apt across the street. Now, if something went wrong the whole block could have exploded. So, I told her that, nor any other glass in my store would suit her purpose. Then, it got worse.
She flipped out. Started screaming that I'm a racist, because I won't sell her a glass because she's black. And, it gets worse, she then raises the glass like she's going to throw it at me and starts screaming "You fucking skinny white bitch! Fuck you, you stupid motherfucking cunt! Don't you get it's an emergency??! You are fucking useless! Fuck you! I'm just gonna take this one you anorexic fucking ho!"
I calmly replied, "Sure, go ahead, steal it. I don't give a fuck methface. I'll just call the cops, point across the street show them where you live and within fifteen seconds you'll have fifteen boys in blue busting your door open while you're whipping up a fresh batch of meth. And well, it's Friday, so, you'll spend a weekend in the tombs, get remanded to Rikers Island on Monday and then it's probably another fifteen years in Women's Correctional in Bedford. Sound good? Okay, I'll grab the phone."
She put that glass down so fast and ran out of my store like Flash Lightning. I never saw her again, not even in the neighborhood.
The quitting story is a great one but, unrelated. It's a long story in its own right. Let's just say, it never felt so good to quit. And, I was so proud I didn't KO Bitchface. I'm a trained boxer, I've KO'ed guys 3-4 weight classes above me.
This story was originally posted on January 01, 2011
CiCi here with a tale of my very first Crazy Custy Encounter.
It actually happened almost three years ago at my first job, and frankly I can't believe I forgot about it.
So here goes. Long story is long, sorry.
My first job was at a small local amusement park, "Hell on Earth," as I affectionately refer to it. This park hires kids as young as fourteen, but fourteen and fifteen year olds are pretty much stuck in food and beverage because of child labor laws (I think that's the reason).
I was fifteen, so I was hired as a food and beverage worker. The park opened the first weekend in May, and I remember working it and thinking all day, "this job is going to SUCK."
Side rant: the management at that place is the worst ever. My orientation the week prior to the season opening consisted of being in a room with other food and beverage workers and going over food safety laws, and then being given a quick tour of the park. That's it. We weren't shown where each food stand was or what they were called, or how to work a register. I was given a crash course in register on my first day, and it was SO FUCKING COMPLICATED. Also, I wandered around the park to find my assigned location because I had NO IDEA what the schedule was referring to. /end side rant
This story takes place on maybe my fourth day of work, which would have been the second weekend of May. The park was fairly crowded because it was a nice day. And of course we had a long line. I was on register, and there were maybe four other employees plus a supervisor hanging around because we were overstaffed that day.
I was having a LOVELY time on register because the prices for food inside the park were ridiculously high and people weren't allowed to bring food in, which forced them to buy from the food stands.
I had this conversation multiple times:
Customer: Hi, I'll have a small ice cream cone, and two Diet Cokes.
Me: Okay, that'll be $7.50.
Customer: Never mind, that's too expensive. *walks away*
I would then be forced to call my supervisor to void out the order, because as an employee I wasn't allowed to do that.
Meanwhile the line of people would be growing more and more impatient. The stand I was working was the only place in the park that made funnel cakes, and since the majority of park visitors are tourists, they are anxious to have a REAL funnel cake (the area I'm from is well known for funnel cakes).
And of course, one of our two fryers was out of commission that day. Of course, this meant that EVERY SINGLE FUCKING CUSTOMER ORDERED A FUNNEL CAKE.
Even with my supervisor working as fast as she could on our one functioning fryer, the orders piled up to the point where it was about a half hour wait for a funnel cake.
So then when people would order one, I would tell them as a courtesy, "Just so you know, it's going to be about a 30 minute wait for the funnel cake."
They would then say either "That's fine, I'll wait," or "Oh, never mind then."
So people are waiting for their funnel cakes. One lady who waited the full 30 minutes to get hers came up and ordered another one because the first one was so good.
And then it happened...
A woman steps up to my register and orders a few drinks and of course, a funnel cake.
I respond, "Okay, the funnel cake is going to be about a 30 minute wait."
The woman, who had been nice up to this point, looks at me and says "WHAT?"
Startled, I repeat that there is a 30 minute wait for funnel cakes. The woman, who will henceforth be referred to as Psycho Bitch, FREAKS OUT: "WHY ARE YOU TELLING ME I CAN'T HAVE A FUNNEL CAKE?!?!"
I was speechless, mostly because THAT WASN'T WHAT I WAS SAYING AT ALL, and also because no one had ever blown up at me like that before. RHSEPT 295
Some people had been short with me, but no one had been so blatantly rude.
Luckily, the first lady (who was waiting at the counter for her second funnel cake) spoke up in my defense. "She didn't say you couldn't have a funnel cake, she was just letting you know that there is a wait."
Psycho Bitch: "NO, SHE SAID I COULDN'T HAVE A FUNNEL CAKE AND I DON'T UNDERSTAND WHY!!! I JUST WANT A FUNNEL CAKE!!"
Perhaps now is the time to mention that Psycho Bitch was a Girl Scout leader who was surrounded by maybe five girls from her troop, all of whom looked to be about eight.
They witnessed ALL of this.
Cool Custy: There are a lot of other people who ordered funnel cakes and they only have one fryer working. The funnel cakes are really good; they're worth waiting for. I'm waiting for my second one, actually.
Psycho Bitch: (muttering) Well, that's a long time to wait, I don't know if I want to wait that long, half an hour is ridiculous...
Cool Custy: They're doing the best they can. Give them a break, they're just kids. I know how it is, I used to work in the restaurant industry.
Psycho Bitch: *snorts and mutters under her breath* "Used to"....
Cool Custy: *gets ALL up in her face* YES, I USED TO BUT I LEFT TO BE A SINGLE MOTHER TO MY WONDERFUL DAUGHTER!
Psycho Bitch: *snorts and mutters again* "Single mother."
Cool Custy: *gets closer* YES, I LEFT MY BOYFRIEND BECAUSE HE MOLESTED MY DAUGHTER!!!! I left my job to take care of her so I wouldn't have to leave her with people like YOU while I worked!
Psycho Bitch: I hope she's not with people like you either! (which doesn't make sense... because obviously the daughter IS with people like her mom... namely, her mom)
This was followed by unintelligible screaming on both of their parts. I had been standing at the register this whole time and was now close to tears because I was so freaked out. I remember being genuinely terrified because I had never seen an adult throw a temper tantrum before... See, this was back when I was still innocent and thought all adults behaved like... well, ADULTS. Silly me. So I just stood there frozen. If that happened to me now, I'd be thinking "HOLY HANNAH WOMAN IT'S A FUNNEL CAKE AND I DIDN'T EVEN SAY YOU COULDN'T HAVE ONE! CALM YOUR SHIT!" I might even have the retail balls to say some of it.
My manager threatened to call security and they both moved off to the side and toned it down a little, but not much.
A man who had been waiting behind Psycho Bitch stepped up to place his order, but because of Psycho Bitch's yelling, I couldn't hear him even though he was standing a foot away. RHSEPT 522
My manager did end up calling security before it escalated to physical violence, but the thing is that Single Mom walked off before security got there, and I saw Psycho Bitch talking to security and crying, probably playing the victim.
SERIOUSLY?!? You're a fucking GIRL SCOUT LEADER, you cuntnugget! For the love of Ray J, you're supposed to be setting an example for those girls! AGHAGHBLARG.
I didn't actually get angry about this until after I got my second job and toughened up some. When I thought back, the memory pissed me off beyond belief.
There's no excuse for acting like that. Although the pure absurdity of it also makes me laugh: the fact that Psycho Bitch started freaking out needlessly over funnel cakes and ended up in a fight that got VERY personal very quickly, due to her own bitchery.
I only lasted the month of May at that job, and I only worked weekends, so I probably only worked there for about six days total. I think I gave my notice at the end of my fourth shift.
One of the best days of my life was the day I walked out of that place knowing I never had to go back I swore I'd never work in food again, and I haven't.
I've now worked at my second job (in children's clothing) for seventeen months, and I'm much happier. Not that I haven't encountered other custys, I CERTAINLY have, but I think something about ordering food brings out the very worst in people. Hunger + custys = BAD.
Also, I love my coworkers and management is MUCH more competent at my current job.
We're kind of like a family, and our nickname for our store manager is "Mama" because we're all her kids, since she has none of her own.
:D Much love,
Kendall Jenner was an unsatisfied customer at Mercer Kitchen in Manhattan last week, prompting a sidewalk clash with her waitress. However, the restaurant maintains that the incident wouldn't have occurred had the 18-year-old budding model not tried to order alcohol.
Yahoo spoke to famed chef Jean-Georges Vongerichten, who owns Mercer Kitchen as well as 23 other restaurants worldwide, about the drama that played out with Kim Kardashian's little sister at his eatery. Waitress Blaine Morris followed the teen and her friend, Stephen Baldwin's daughter Hailey, out of the restaurant to collect money for an unpaid bill, and claimed Kendall threw the money in her face, according to a tweet posted Aug. 5 (and later deleted). Jenner has called the server's claim "absolutely ridiculous" and her lawyer has reportedly threatened legal action against the waitress.
"It's pretty much what the papers say," Jean-Georges says about the story, which first appeared in New York Post's Page Six. "They came in for dinner. They asked for drinks. We can't serve anyone under 21; we could lose our liquor license, so we can't do that no matter what. What happened is they walked out on their check. Ms. Morris, who is no longer with us, walked after them and they threw money in her face."
Jenner's attorney sent Morris, who's also an aspiring actress and appeared on MTV's Skins, acease-and-desist letter, calling her tweet "completely false, fabricated and defamatory," according to E! News. The lawyer also apparently asked for Morris to publicly apologize to Jenner.
While Jean-Georges wasn't called upon to apologize, he offered one anyway, though maintained that the entire thing could have been avoided had the teenager not tried to consume alcohol in his eatery. "We are sorry about the incident but we cannot serve alcohol to a minor, which is the bottom line," the chef says. "I apologize for the waitress going after her, but Ms. Morris was accountable for all the checks to be closed. It's an unfortunate incident. It's too bad. Hopefully they'll forget it and come back."
So the Kardashians are welcome back in his well-known restaurants? "Of course, of course! They always come in," he says. "But when it comes to the rules and regulations of the city, there is nothing we can do about it."
As for Morris, she no longer works at Mercer Kitchen. She was so upset by the incident that she left that night. Further, restaurant employees are not allowed to tweet about customers on social media, so she would have been in breach of that company policy anyway. (Morris could not be reached for comment for this story.)
Now Jean-Georges just wants to put all this behind him and focus on more important things — like food! "Both sides were upset, it was an embarrassing moment, but it is what it is," Jean-Georges says. "We try to do our best always. I came to this business 40 years ago to please people and to accommodate everybody, but sometimes [things happen] and it's unfortunate. There's not much we can do about it."
A rep for Kendall has not yet responded to Yahoo's request for comment about whether or not she was trying to obtain alcohol underage, though Kendall didn't deny that part of the story on Twitter. Instead, she tried to clarify that she didn't throw money at the waitress "or act that disrespectfully," adding, "I was raised better than that."