Brother: “I’d like a [drink] with no ice.”

Cashier: “You have to have put ice in it.”

Brother: “I don’t want ice.”

Cashier: “Yeah, but you have to have ice.”

Brother: “Right, I’ll bite… why do I need to have ice in it?”

Cashier: “The ice has a chemical in it that makes the drink go longer.”

Brother: “What?”

Cashier: “Yeah! It’s called subterfuge.”

(My brother catches on immediately.)

Brother: “Can I speak to your manager, please?”

Cashier: “Alright, is there a problem?”

Brother: “Oh, there could be…”

(The manager comes along.)

Manager: “What’s the matter?”

Brother: “Right… when you’re training your juniors, you should make sure they understand what you’re telling them. He just told me there’s a chemical called subterfuge in the ice that makes the drink last longer, as opposed to an act of subterfuge by adding ice to make it appear as if there is more.”

(It’s very slow at work, so I goof around by pointing my hand at the clock and pretending to move it like a sorcerer.)

Coworker: “What are you doing?”

Me: “Trying to make time go faster.”

Coworker: *completely serious* “Can you actually do that?!”

Me: “…No. I was joking.”

Coworker: “If you could actually do that, that’d come in handy!”

Me: “Can I get a hamburger combo and—”

Employee: “We don’t have a hamburger combo.”

Me: “What?”

Employee: “We don’t have hamburger combos.”

Me: “Then… can I have a cheeseburger combo… without cheese?”

Employee: “Of course!” *happily inputs order*

Me: “…”

Related:
Not Getting To The Meat Of The Problem

(My mom is ordering us lunch at a popular fast food chain.)

My Mom: “I’d like a number 2 with a diet iced tea, and a number 3 with a Diet Coke.”

Employee: “Okay, that’ll be $8.75.”

My Mom: *hands employee $10.75*

Employee: “Here’s your change. have a nice day!”

My Mom: “You only gave me back $1 instead of $2.”

Employee: “No, the change is $1.”

My Mom: “Here’s the receipt you just gave me. It even says the change is $2.”

Employee: *looks at receipt, confused* “But… I gave you $1.”

My Mom: “Well, you owe me $1 more.”

Employee: “I gave you a $1 already.”

Me: “$10.75 minus $8.75 equals $2. You only gave her $1, so you owe her another $1.”

(The employee runs off with a look of confusion on her face and gets the manager. The manager looks at the receipt, and then back at my mom.)

Manager: “So, my employee gave you $1 already. What seems to be the problem?”

My Mom: “She still owes me another $1. The total was $8.75, I gave her $10.75, she only gave me back $1 in change. So, I’m still owed another $1.”

Manager: “I really don’t understand. She already gave you $1.”

My Mom: *sighs* “If you get out a calculator, you’ll see that $10.75 minus $8.75 does indeed equal $2. So, since I was only given $1, I’m still owed another $1.”

Manager: “You already got your change! Is there anything else I can help you with today?”

My Mom: “Just give me my receipt. I’ll call tomorrow.”

(We called back the next day and asked for the owner. The owner gave us a $30 gift card for our trouble!)

Related:
At Least They’ll Stop Being Short With Customers For A Change

(I’m about 17 and working the till at a small-town burger place. My supervisor is only about 15, but has seniority simply because he’s been there longer than me. There’s a biker’s meet-up unexpectedly passing through town on an otherwise dead day.)

Me: “Whoa! Head’s up!”

(I see about 30-40 guys piling up outside our store with all kinds of bikes.)

Coworker: “Awesome! Go take orders; I’ll be right back.” *runs off*

(I assume he’s going to grab more stock and proceed to take huge orders but no food comes through. However, when I go back to the kitchen, it’s empty. )

Biker: “Hey, what’s the hold up?”

Me: “I’m sorry, I’m currently working the shop alone. I’ll be as fast as I can. ”

(I leave the till and start making orders at full speed, opening the spare hatch to keep an eye on the front at the same time. 15 minutes later, my coworker re-appears.)

Coworker: “They have some really awesome bikes out there!”

Me: “You… went to look at the bikes? That’s nice. Get the fries out of the frier. There’s six onion rings to go in next and then you need to bag these orders.”

Coworker: “Hey, what the f***!? You can’t speak to me like that! You can’t give ME orders! I’M the supervisor! I’M THE SUPERVISOR!”

(My coworker continues throwing a tantrum, loud enough for the bikers in the restaurant to hear. One of them walks up and leans through the hatch with a growl.)

Biker: “Then F***ING supervise, you little s***, or I’ll come in there and supervise YOU out of a job.” *to me* “Doing good, darlin’. Carry on!”