I work at a well-known sub sandwich place. A woman walks through the door with her grandson and proceeds to explain to me that she had received some coupons in the mail.

At first, I thought that this was just going to be a more elaborate way of asking me if we accepted coupons. Nope. She ended her borderline life story by asking me if, even though she had none of the coupons with her, she could just read the code off to me from her phone.

My place of work doesn’t really operate that way. When we accept a coupon, we add it to the bill and put the coupon in our receipt box. Then, when our managers go through the box, they can match the amount shown to have been used to the amount that we put in the box. It’s simple, and it works.

I explain to her that there really isn’t any code to read, and that I can’t mark her meal off without the actual coupon in hand. Honestly, the women wouldn’t have been losing all that much without it. I believe it was just somewhere around $2 or so.

She starts questioning me repeatedly about what time they check the coupon box. I tell her most likely in the morning. She asks me if I could just mark down now that she has a coupon, and she could bring it to me later. I told her no, I couldn’t really do that, or I’d lose my job.

She then proceeds to stare me down the entire time I’m making her sandwiches, and pretends she can’t hear me in some places, even though she had heard me fine before.

When it was all said and done, and she (reluctantly) paid for her meals, I asked her if she wanted her receipt. She answered yes (of course), and I automatically went to put it in her bag. She then pipes up and almost yells, “Oh, I’ll take that!”

She really must have wanted me to have cheated her out of money or something, as she scrutinized the receipt, looking for any kind of error that she could claim back compensation on. Since there was no error, she ended up grumbling all the way out of the store. I even told her to have a great day, but she didn’t care to reply.

I used to work for a well-known fast-food sub place, and it was always interesting. One night a coworker and I were goofing off because working there was insanely slow most nights, when a couple came in fifteen minutes before closing.

When they walked up, the man wanted a pepperoni sub, BUT he wanted the pepperoni toasted separately from the bread. Okay fine. Then he asks if we can dab all the grease off before putting it on the bread.

So, I begin to burn the crap out of my hand because it’s insanely hot. Then he asks us to put it on the bread and then toast it again. The pepperoni is extremely crispy and basically black at that point. He also told me I burnt his bread, but somehow not the pepperoni.

My coworker is taking care of the woman, who is also being slightly difficult and asking for her sauce to be on a certain side of the bread and the veggies to go in a specific order, and she wants her veggies mostly on the side. So finally, after they made the process so painstakingly annoying, I went to ring them out.

I charged him for a veggie sub with pepperoni, because it was the only meat he got, and added his girlfriend’s stuff. They then got super upset with me that it was so expensive, saying that it never costs that much.

I explained that it cost so much because of the type of subs they ordered. The man began arguing with me that I should ring him out for an Italian sub, but I pushed back and said no, I’m ringing you out for what you ordered.

He finally pays.

My coworker and I walked into the back, just thinking they should just make their own subs at home, when we heard the woman scream, “Your ice is dirty!”

I walk out and see them standing near the soda fountain with their cups full of ice. I ask to see it.

The man takes an ice cube out of his cup and proceeds to show me, dropping it on the floor in the process. I just looked at them, asked to see the cup, in which I saw nothing out of the ordinary, and they began to throw a fit. We had never had problems with our ice and never noticed any after they came in.

I said they could just grab a bottle from the fridge, but then you owe me more money. They got so angry that they opened the fridge, grabbed two bottles, and walked out without paying.

Please, people, fast food workers already hate their jobs. There’s no reason to act that way towards sixteen-year-old kids just trying to pay for some gas.

When I was in my early twenties, I worked at a well-known sandwich franchise. I actually really liked my job; I would open and close, and also come in whenever anyone called out because I lived five minutes away.

One day, my boss hires a new person. No big deal, except my boss kept cutting my hours more and more and giving them to the new person. I went from working over thirty hours a week to working less than fifteen. Oh, and I was training them.

After a few months of my hours getting cut, but me still coming in whenever called, I put in my two weeks. My boss proceeded to not schedule me a single hour after that.

One of my coworkers, who would call in regularly, didn’t come in to open the store at 6 AM one morning. I drove by at 11 AM, and it was still dark.

My old boss had called me to ask if I could open for her. Nope, you didn’t want to give me any hours after I put in my two weeks, so figure it out. I drove by that store for a couple of weeks after that, and wouldn’t you know it, it was only open half the time.

I work in a sandwich store that has a couple of tables. My coworker and I see a customer eating a sandwich with his son. He finishes the whole thing, and then he pulls a napkin out of his pocket, unwraps it, and drops a dead fly that he had in it onto his sandwich wrap.

My coworker and I both share a look because we both know what’s about to happen.

Customer: *Walking over with the sandwich wrap.* ” Excuse me—”

Coworker: “—if it’s about the dead fly we both just saw you drop onto that sandwich wrapper from the napkin in your pocket, save it.”

Customer: *Shocked, obviously not expecting his scam to have been observed.* “I… I don’t know what you’re talking about. This dead fly fell out of my sandwich!”

Coworker: “Okay, so you’re following through. Interesting. I’m guessing you’re expecting a refund?”

Customer: *Now a little unsure.* “Uh… yes!”

Coworker: “Okay, leave your name and number. My manager will go through the camera footage, and if it doesn’t catch you dropping a dead fly onto the sandwich wrapper all by yourself, then we’ll call you for the refund. If the camera did catch what actually happened, though, you’ll be banned for life. Sound good?”

His son starts tugging at his dad’s shirt.

Customer’s Son: “Dad, let’s just go. I told you it wasn’t going to work. This is just sad now…”

The dad left without saying a word after that, dragging his embarrassed son with him.

Back in the late nineties, I worked at a Panera Bread. I remember when I had to go out back to ask the manager (who is very professional but also a great joker).

Me: “Hey, [Manager], can you come out front and say you’re Mr. Panera?”

Manager: “Uh… there is no Mr. Panera.”

Me: “Yeah, but this customer just said that if we didn’t refund her order, she’s gonna call Mr. Panera himself and have me fired! Apparently, he’s good friends with her husband. They even grew up together!”

Manager: *Sighs.* “Fine.”

My manager walks out to the front, sees the customer in question, and says:

Manager: “Ma’am, who is your husband? If we grew up together, he never mentioned you. Oh, wait, are you the wife who s*** her pants at her wedding? Oh yeah, you look like her. How’ve you been since… You know… the procedure?”

She did not wait around to hear what else my manager could come up with.