I Love Vegans But This Takes The Cake

| USA | Bad Behavior, Employees, Food & Drink

(Right out of culinary school, I get a job as a baker for a hotel. We make pastries, breads, and desserts for the hotel restaurant and the attached banquet halls. The bakery is very small, usually just myself and the bakery manager. The job is fantastic until the manager quits and is replaced by a new girl. This new manager is a vegan, and a judgmental one at that. She seems to think that everyone else’s diet is evil, and that we should all switch to hers. I mostly ignore her and get on with my job. Because our hotel is situated on the edge of an industrial area, we get quite a few business breakfast meetings and lunches from the nearby businesses, and we provide the baked goods to these events, to be served by the banquet staff. One day, I am approached by the banquet servers, who are working a larger business lunch for maybe 60 people.)

Banquet Worker: “This cheesecake is not good. The customers are complaining.”

(She slides a plated, un-served slice of cheesecake across the counter to me. I notice the color is not right: most cheesecakes are off-white to pale gold in color, and this cheesecake is stark white.)

Banquet Worker: “I’m embarrassed to served this. It’s gross.”

(I use a fork to take a small bite and can barely swallow it. The mouthfeel is… squeaky. Like cornstarch. The consistency is creamy, but the taste is bland and just awful.)

Banquet Worker: “Did you change the recipe, or something? You guys have always made good cheesecake before.”

Me: “I wasn’t here yesterday. [Manager] made these for today’s banquet.”

Banquet Worker: “Oh….”

(Over the last few weeks, the manager had been tweaking recipes and making mistakes, which I would then have to fix. The manager comes in the next day.)

Manager: “How was that banquet yesterday? Did it go well?”

Me: “No, not really… Did you change the cheesecake recipe?”

Manager: “Yes! Wasn’t it fabulous? I made all-vegan cheesecakes! You know how sometimes customers ask for the recipes? I wanted them to all have that cheesecake and then be surprised to find out that it was vegan! Now all of those people know how yummy vegan food can be.”

(I think I just stood and stared at her. She tried to trick 60 or so people into eating vegan cheesecake without thinking about the fact that at least some of those people might have been allergic to those ingredients or might have had dietary restrictions. She was so pleased with herself, right up until the executive chef dragged her into the office to tell her that her little stunt was unacceptable. I left a few months later, and when I dropped in two months after that, I was unsurprised to hear that she no longer worked there. It seems that management had encouraged her to leave, due to the fact that she kept putting her own agendas ahead of those of the company. I don’t mind vegans in general, but pushing your diet on unsuspecting customers is never okay.)

Not Banking On Their Security

| UK | Employees, Ignoring & Inattentive, Money

(I was in town shopping and realised I’d forgotten my pin number, so I went into the local branch of my bank to withdraw some money.)

Me: *handing my card over* “Could I take out £10, please?”

Banker: “Absolutely, I’ll just have your account details and sort that out for you.”

(After a minute of her putting my details into a computer she hands me a receipt and asks me to sign.)

Me: “Don’t I need to give you any ID?”

Banker: “Not at all. That’s all sorted for you. Have a nice day.”

(I dread to think about how many people have had money stolen just because they didn’t ask for any personal details or ID!)

A Miscarriage Of Service

| USA | Employees, Health & Body

(My mom is pregnant with her first child when she is told by the doctor that she has suffered a miscarriage, which devastates her. She is told to come in for an aftercare procedure a week later.)

Nurse: “Okay, we’ll just do a quick ultrasound to check that everything’s in order, and then we’ll begin.”

Mom: “Okay.”

Nurse: *looks at ultrasound results and blanches* “Um, I’m sorry, Ms. [Mom], will you excuse me for a moment?” *steps outside*

Nurse: *returns, looking harried* “Um, well… it seems there’s been a mistake.”

Mom: *worried* “What kind of mistake?”

Nurse: “It appears that there was no miscarriage. Your baby’s still alive.”

Mom: “What?!”

Nurse: “I’m very sorry, Ms. [Mom]. I don’t know how this could have happened…”

Mom: “But it’s alive? It’s okay?”

Nurse: “Yes, and of course we’ll run further tests, but from what I can tell it seems perfectly healthy.”

(The doctor later came to apologize for his mistake, but by then my mother had already made the decision to switch to someone else’s care. My older brother was, happily, delivered without incident.)

Losing This Train Of Thought

| The Netherlands | Funny Names, Transportation

(I am moving to the UK for seven months. My mum is helping me move. I will move by train as it’s the most cost-efficient and practical way. I am also carrying a bike. My mum will go back home afterwards, also by train. This means that we have a pretty complicated ticket to book. We have to go to Brussels to catch the train to London, and from there we take a train to my final destination, in Wales. The tickets up until London we can book at the Dutch international rail office, but one employee tells us it is much, much cheaper to book the British ticket at their website. I attempt to do so but run into a problem. The tickets cannot be sent to another address than a UK address and the other option is to pick it up at a station with the credit or debit card you bought it with. My dad is the only person in the family with a credit card and our debit cards are Dutch and don’t utilise the same system so we can’t use them at the British website. Buying the tickets when we get to London is also a possibility but not with the bike as it needs a reservation and it would be a lot more expensive in any case. As we need to call for a bike ticket in any case I grab the phone. My dad calls first as it is his credit card we’re going to be using. The person on the other side of the line has a thick accent what we suspect is of Indian origin. My dad on the other hand has a pronounced Dutch accent. I can’t hear what is being said on the other side of the line.)

Dad: “I would like to buy some tickets for my daughter and my wife for their trip to the UK. I would like to know if it is possible for the tickets to be sent to our Dutch address or be sent by email.”

Dad: “Pardon, I didn’t understand what you said there.”

Dad: “They can just pick it up at the train station?”

Dad: “No… that is not possible. I will be paying for them so they can’t do that.”

Dad: “No… I am NOT giving them my credit card.”

Dad: “Pardon, what did you say? No, no. I cannot give them my credit card.”

Dad: “Yes, we WILL be paying.”

Dad: *to me* “You take it… I don’t understand him very well and I think it’s mutual.”

(I take the phone with a worried frown.)

Me: “Hello?”

Salesperson: “Hello, I understand you want to book tickets from us and there is a problem with that?”

Me: “Yes, my dad is paying with his credit card, but only my mother and I will be going.”

Salesperson: “That is no problem; you just go to the machine in London and get the ticket from there with the credit card used for the payment.”

Me: “I don’t think my dad is going to allow us to take his credit card… so that’s not possible. Is there any other option?”

Salesperson: “We can also send it to you. We send to all UK addresses.”

Me: “We don’t live in the UK, though. We’re going there… I want to get to my UK address with this ticket.”

Salesperson: “Well, you can also get the ticket from the ticket machine or the information desk.”

Me: “Without the credit card?”

Salesperson: “No, you need the credit card used for the payment.”

(I sighed internally but finally after a few more rounds like that managed to get in his head that that was not an option. He decided to make an exception for us and sent us the tickets to our Dutch address. Next came the fun with the Dutch names. I have the in the Netherlands very common surname ‘van der Wal’, which is relatively easy, but the name of my street and my city were not as straightforward. After a lot of back and forth we think we were on the same wavelength. Anxiously we awaited our tickets, and sure enough about a week later they arrived, sent to the correctly spelled address at the correctly spelled name. It was finally time to catch the train. After a gruelling trip of already over 8 hours to London we made it to London Paddington. We dragged our stuff on the train and squeezed into our reserved seats. I took a look at the ticket above our head and started to laugh. It proudly said: name: THUNDERWALL.)

Tire Of These Scams

| Scotland, UK | Liars/Scammers, Transportation

(My sister is babysitting me while getting her car serviced and MOT’d. The garage she has it done at doesn’t have the tires she uses so she is sent to a recommended garage. While my sister isn’t the brightest at times, one thing she is an expert on is cars.)

Sister: “Yes, I just need my front passenger side tire changed with [Make], please.”

Mechanic: “We can check all your tires, just to be sure.” *winks*

Sister: “No. I just need the one, thank you.”

Mechanic: “Sure… I’ll do the full check, just for you.” *winks*

(We both get a bad vibe from him, but my sister just shrugs. He comes back ten minutes later.)

Mechanic: “Looks like you need four new tires. They’re all below the limit. I can’t legally let you leave on those. I recommend [Expensive Make], as they’re more durable than your own.”

Sister: “May I?”

(She extends her hand for the clipboard the mechanic is using. He offers it and she examines it.)

Sister: “Okay, we’re going to go out to my car, and this time we’ll check my tires together.”

Mechanic: “I don’t think that’s necessary—”

(My sister is already through the door, me closely behind. The mechanic reaches us as we get to her car.)

Sister: “Go on, then.”

(The mechanic grudgingly kneels down and does the check. My sister kneels down and grabs his instrument before he finishes and does her own check.)

Sister: “This is how you check tire tread.”

Mechanic: *wide eyed* “H-how do you know that?”

(My sister ignored him and finishes her own check, compares the two measurements and motions for me to get in the car.)

Sister: *handing empty clipboard* “[Garage] will be very interested to see these.” *gets in car*

Mechanic: “They would even know what you’re talking about, stupid b****!”

Sister: “I think they will, given I’m best student they’ve had.”

(We left and dropped by my sister’s garage. She handed the inspection sheets over and disappeared from view for a few minutes. When she got back she said one thing to me: “blacklisted.” The formerly recommended garage was closed due to bankruptcy within a year, as no one would touch it.)