[dropcaps style=’2′]For the past few years I have worked in a fish and chip shop while studying at uni. All I can say is thank the baby JC I am in my last semester and only have to deal with customers until Christmas time. Just as I typed the previous sentence I was quick to remind myself that in becoming a teacher, I will not have to deal with customers anymore, but parents. Today I am going to explain to you why the saying “the customer is always right” was first said by a customer, not a worker. In fact whenever a worker that deals with customers says this saying, it is generally followed by a quick “my arse they are!”.[/dropcaps]
During a regular week I probably talk to customers more than I do my family. Our regular customers are fantastic (some even know more about my university degree and life then my parents do – but don’t tell my mum that). Apart from the regular customers, we have, like all people in retail and hospitality can vouch for are the crazies, the illogical ones, the tightarse ones, the impatient and the downright ‘I wanna slap you across the face’ stupid ones.
Here are a few of my anecdotes over the years:
I served a lady who asked for fried fish. When her food was ready, I called out her number. As I put her plate on the counter and turned around to get her some cutlery, I was questioned, “Um excuse me. I asked for fried fish?”
[image src=’http://fnx.network/fnxnetwork/wp-content/uploads/2014/08/8035805417_93a19dff2b_m.jpg’ width=’240′ height=’160′ title=’Source: Whatley Dude, Flickr’ align=’left’]“Yes ma’am” I replied, “That is fried fish.”
“Oh. I wanted grilled.”
(What is she getting at here?)
“Ok. But you asked me for fried.”
“Yes I know. I though fried was grilled.”
She genuinely looked confused. As I tried to stifle my laugh and not sound like a sarcastic bitch, I calmly replied, “Fried goes in the fryer and grilled goes on the grill.” This was said with a few sarcastic gestures (me failing not to be a sarcastic bitch).
“Oh. Okay. Never mind.” And off she went to probably question the meaning of life whilst crunching on a hot chip dipped in Tartar sauce.
[image src=’http://fnx.network/fnxnetwork/wp-content/uploads/2014/08/dictator-slap-o.gif”‘ width=’300′ height=’168′ title=’Source: Gifsoup’ align=’right’]Speaking of tartar sauce, where I work we make our own tartar sauce. Tartar sauce amongst other ingredients has pickles and capers in it. These ingredients you obviously chop and blended, which you then mix into the mayonnaise. Naturally, every now again one might find a tiny piece of caper or pickle in the sauce, rather than a completely smooth, no clumps tartar sauce. That being said, picture a bogan (a redneck with an Aussie accent if you will), drop the sauce back on my counter and say in that nasally, loud voice, “This ain’t tartar sauce. This tastes like salad!” and pointed out the tiniest piece of a caper in the sauce. After explaining the process she was still quite adamant that it was salad and not sauce and demanded her 80 cents refund.
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The customer is always right?
My arse they are!

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[column_item]Now picture for me if you will, a cross between Norman Bates (Psycho), Ned Flanders and the guy from ‘Something about Mary” (the one with the hives and nervousness) – This is my Saturday lunchtime ‘stalker’. I say Norman Bates because he is a middle aged man that always comes to the shop with his mum. I say Ned Flanders because of his mo and glasses. I say the dude from ‘Something About Mary’ because he has red flaky skin and can barely talk to me, yet only wants me to talk to him and serve him.[/column_item]
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I call him my stalker because he will stand back when another worker is offering to serve him and will step forward the moment I am done with a customer, also because he gave me a nickname ‘Chrissy’ (I have always hated this nickname, even as a child. Now I hate it even more). He no longer comes anymore, thanks to two weeks in a row (by complete coincidence) a male friend of my ordered food from my store and I was talking to my friend when my creepy ‘Norman Flanders’ showed up (on both occasion) – he had a look of jealousy in his eyes which made me feel like I was going to be followed home where I’d find him in my closet dressed as his mum, sniffing my shoes. Thank goodness he is gone!
That friend of mine is now known as my Messiah.
These are just a few anecdotes of many which I am sure all hospitality and retail workers can relate to.
If you cannot relate to or understand these anecdotes, you are probably one of the people I described.
Sorry (not really).
Image Source: William Franklin, Flickr.