People who are mean to food workers are some of the worst people you can meet. Food workers are trying their best, but it’s never good enough for some people. These writers detail the most insane complaints they ever received from the worst customers. Content has been edited for clarity.
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Show Me The Blueberries
“I was working a very busy weekend lunch shift when I had an elderly couple sit down. Now that I think of it, they were probably in their 60s, but everyone seems old when you’re 21. I normally know that they will require more attention, but I had no idea what was coming. They stopped me at every pass to ask for something, half of which was right in front of them on the table. I was certain they were just testing me. We had people come in monthly that would be there on behalf of the owners. They were not, but I didn’t know that then.
The lunch shift is the toughest because everyone comes at the same time. I was able to slow the couple down. We were at dessert time and maybe they felt I ignored them a bit, but I told them that I was hard of hearing in my left ear, which explained why I didn’t hear them at every request. I’m not, but I thought they would relate. They did not.
Everyone else had their checks on the table, and I was left with this couple. I asked about dessert, and they said at first no, but a minute later they saw berries and whipped cream go by and it piqued their interest. But first, the man asked me to ‘bring out a sample of the blueberries’ so he could see how large they are.
I decided I’d play along, so I went to the pastry chef and asked for a sampling. The kitchen staff looked at me like I had two heads. They put 5–6 on a plate and I showed the gentleman. He looked at them and said, ‘If they all look like this then I will have them, but not with whipped cream. I want crème fraiche.’
‘No problem,’ I told him.
I brought everything out and put it in from of him. He looked down at the bowl and back at me and said, ‘These are not the same blueberries you showed me! These are much smaller. I want to see the manager!’
Now, there were two managers on while this was happening, so I got to choose who to torture with my kind old couple. I decided it was better to send it to the serious manager because you can’t make this stuff up! I told her table seven had an issue. She asked, ‘What did you do this time?’
I told her I was being accused of a bait and switch involving blueberries! She gave me the ‘yeah right’ look and headed over there.
I introduced her to the table and then stepped back to watch the fireworks. This guy was REALLY accusing me and the pastry chef of taking the largest blueberries and only giving him the small ones. He was convinced that we were laughing at him afterward.
He demanded that we get the original berries we showed him and compare them to the ones in his bowl. When I told the manager they were in the bowl in front of him, he got even more upset! At this point, all the staff if in the kitchen was howling because the place was almost empty and when it is, there is an echo. I was trying not to laugh, so I had to walk away because I couldn’t help it anymore.
I headed back out after getting it out of my system and the manager was gone, so I went looking for her. She was in the main kitchen talking with the sous chef because he heads the pastry people. He was my buddy, so he also wasn’t surprised I’m involved. Together, they go to the pastry chef and ask to see all the blueberries. It was starting to remind me of The 3 Stooges as they were actually picking out the largest blueberries to put in a bowl for this guy. Once they did, they put the crème fraiche on it and the manager walked it out to the couple. She put it down and apologized for the issue and said, ‘the dessert is on the house!’
He looked at the bowl, which had some of the largest blueberries I have ever seen, but I don’t like them so what do I know?
He looked at the bowl. Nothing was said for 20–30 seconds as he stared at it. Finally, he took his napkin off his lap and slammed it on the table and said, ‘Just give me the check!!!’
I am rewarded with an awful tip and a bowl of giant blueberries that I don’t even like. And that was the most outrageous complaint I ever got.”
We Can’t Switch
“A mother and daughter sit in my section. They get their drinks and appetizers. I take their orders– mom orders an 8oz strip medium and daughter order a 6oz sirloin medium-well. The food comes out and I do my typical check on them to make sure everything is okay and no complaints.
I walk by several minutes later to check for refills and the mother stops me and says that she believes that the two cuts of steak were switched on her and her daughter’s plates (mother had the sirloin and daughter had the strip instead of the other way around). In all actuality though, the cuts of steak did appear to be switched around on the plates. Their coinciding sides were correct and I handed out the plates correctly according to seat numbers. I even went back and checked the ticket. Just one or two bites were taken out of each steak, and they both explain that their whole order needs to be recooked because their cuts of steak are wrong.
In my mind, I thought, ‘JUST SWITCH PLATES???’
Not sure how this didn’t cross their minds, but I informed my manager who went to talk to them. They were upset and both wanted brand-new steaks. The recooks took forever and they were at my table for close to an hour at this point. I see the food runner making her way to my table and as I go up to them, they tell me to cancel the order and that it’s taken too long, and they want their entire bill taken care of. I understood their frustration for the wait of the recooks (granted one was medium well), but the whole situation could’ve been easily avoided by just switching the plates. Even the kitchen staff and managers didn’t understand what the big deal was about.”
A Demon From Yelp
“It was a typical Monday afternoon after the lunch rush, but before dinner. That gorgeous period between 2:30 and 5:00. The only stir was from the general downtown rapscallions believing to be the next generation of Yelp reviewers that may have a meal free of charge on the fact alone that they may give me an unsatisfactory score on a baseless internet site frequented by the same people I’d never want as a customer anyhow.
She walked in on the arm of some poor man, clearly disguising (to him) her inept ability to argue a free meal.
He had the goat cheese stuffed chicken and she had the 10oz sirloin. She ordered a beautiful well done and was the Goddess of taste clearly.
After not one, not two, not three, but upon finishing the entire confection in front of her, with breath smelling of garlic onion reduction, she stated this absurd haunting line.
‘I don’t think I should pay for this. He tasted stressed.’
My head server almost embarrassed, with cheeks as red as the 6th Caesar, slowly hobbled back to the kitchen to find me.
After the 12th hour of my day and inability to care anymore, I approached her table.
‘You ate it, you pay. Please tell the entire internet your deceased cow tasted stressed. If I were to slaughter you, I bet you’d taste the same…’
‘Furthermore….’ as I pointed to her husband.
‘Does he taste stressed having to deal with you?’
It’s been 4 years. I still haven’t seen this Yelp review she threatened me with.
Please Yelp, give us owners the ability to review customers. I’ve bent over backward for so many, but have the inability to deal with the entitled few.”
Mr. Slug
“When I worked as a commis chef in a 5-star hotel, we had some guy come in and eat on his own, which was a bit unusual. He ordered some expensive food, but strangely finished with a starter which involved some salad. A waiter came through shortly after serving the salad to tell me that the customer was complaining as he’d found a slug in his salad, so I went out to speak with him. I explained to him that I was terribly sorry, but it just was not possible. The man was being quite rude with me, but I maintained my calm. He demanded to speak with the head chef.
The head chef came out and apologized to the man and stated that the slug was not in the salad when it was served to him. The man became outraged and the implication that he was a liar and asked how we could be so sure. The head chef said, ‘If you would please follow me, sir. There’s something I would like you to see.’ The man stood up, shaking his head looking a bit smug. He seemed adamant that there was nothing we could do that would ever change his mind or prove that he put the slug there. As the head chef and I led him into the kitchen, the head chef explained the sections of the kitchen as he passed through and their function. Finally, he reached the garnish section on the other side of the kitchen and pointed. ‘We put the lettuce for your salad through this machine. We call this ‘a shredder.’
The man took a little time to think, clearly realizing that there was just no way anything short of a small bug could have made it through there alive, and started to look a little panicked. He then started to grow embarrassed by the second, and finally apologized profusely. He said that he did not have the money to pay for the meal. As we called the police, he suddenly remembered that he did have the money and paid for the meal in cash. We never saw him again.”
Worst. Customer. Ever.
“We had a repeat customer who made our lives miserable. After devouring the entire meal, the customer complained their food was cold despite nothing being left on their plate, and wanted it taken off their bill. Since the customer was usually trying to scam us over something or another, this was the final straw. The manager finally called the cops on them and had them banned from the restaurant.
In the past, this same customer had complained that their potato was ‘too baked,’ the Quiché ‘had medium, but not large, white, or brown eggs in it as he expected.’
He had complained that we had the wrong brand of ketchup, that the cucumbers weren’t peeled, that we put too much ice in drinks, that portions were stingy, and that the table was not clean. One time they put red hairs in the food, making a stink about the hairs when the only person in the place with red hair was them. They said the cleaning solution was too strong, our health grade was 100 and not 101, the silverware had water spots on it, the leatherette on the chair had a rip. They were truly a horrible customer.
The most used complaint was they didn’t get their regular table. I’m sorry, but if you show up on a random day during prime time for meals, you either wait for those ahead of you to be seated (yes, it might be at ‘your’ table) or you can choose to sit at the first available table, but it is YOUR choice. The customer just wanted to find things wrong, so something would be comped, discounted, or, they’d be given something for free.
After a couple of years of their weekly visits, even while they tried to impress various dates with how their complaints made us jump through hoops, the manager finally had enough one day. After one of the frivolous complaints, the manager asked the customer to give her a moment while she sorted out their ticket. Secretly, she had been documenting all their ‘issues’ for months. When the cops came, the customer that caused so many problems to get the best of us, had the tables turned and we got the best of them. No longer did we have to draw short straws to see who would get the $0.25 tip on a $25 bill that was discounted, comped, or whatnot. There was no winning for trying with that customer. Maybe they were bipolar or had other psychiatric problems. Maybe they were lonely or something. I tried my best and that’s all I could do.
Another table, a party of six, ate the entrées that were not theirs. Upon receiving the check, they argued they had not gotten their meals yet. They wanted their entrées on top of what they had eaten already. Rather than tell their server that the food wasn’t what they ordered, they kept eating it and saying everything was fine when the server came by. They even asked for more sauce, dressing, drinks, etc. Not once, did they mention that this wasn’t what they had ordered in the hour that they were there eating and enjoying the wrong meals.”
The Onion Bandit
“Here’s one we had recently. I promise you, I am not making this up.
The customer orders an order of onion rings and tells our server she would like ‘a few extra’ because she is allergic to onions. Our server, confused, asks ‘If you are allergic to onions, why are you ordering onion rings?’ To which she replied, ‘Oh, I take the onions out and just eat the breading. I love the breading.’
So our server says ‘so you want us to give you more for free because you don’t eat the onions?’ To which the customer replied ‘Yes, is there something wrong with that?’ Our server was so flummoxed he didn’t know what to say except ‘I’m sorry, but we can’t do that. I’d be happy to sell you a second order if you would like.’
From here things went downhill. The customer was actually amazed and offended that we wouldn’t give her a few extra since she didn’t feel she should have to pay for onions she wasn’t going to eat. Never mind they came out of breading and would have to be thrown away.
She then gave us a 1-star review because we wouldn’t give her extra onion rings for free!”
Coupon Crazy
“I once had a guest complain to their server about the meal. She couldn’t seem pin down what the complaint was actually about, so I went to discuss it with them. They really weren’t able to identify the problem when I approached them. As I talked to them, they admitted they didn’t like the restaurant, nothing wrong with food or service. They just didn’t like the place. They made it clear they’d never return, but felt I should pick up the tab for the entire bill.
You’re not coming back? No chance I’ll pick up that tab. I’d pick up a tab to improve guest relations or for service recovery, but not in this case.
Finally, the woman at the table tells me she’s unhappy because we won’t accept a coupon that’s not for our establishment. They have a coupon for a restaurant down the street that had closed and believed that we should accept it. When we wouldn’t honor the coupon, they felt we should buy their dinner. In the end, I told them they needed to pay up or discuss it with the police. Happily, we never saw them again.”
A Ton Of Crazies
“One customer ordered an extra well-done steak and made it clear that they preferred to have it almost burned on the outside. Then, they complained that there was no pink left in the middle of the steak when it was cooked to order.
Another customer ordered a tuna salad and was upset when they received a salad with ‘fish’ in it.
Several customers were very vocal because we couldn’t serve them blood-rare steaks or burger. This included repeat customers who asked for blood-rare steaks or burgers almost every week, always with the same answer– it was against the state law.
One customer complained very loudly that there was too much food for them to eat. The menu described exactly what they got with each meal. We also offered a Styrofoam container for them to take the excess home in, but they wanted to have the meal free because we were overfeeding the customers.
A woman came in with a group and as she was seated, she demanded a cup of hot coffee. The waitress promptly went over and filled her cup while the woman was turned, talking to another person. The waitress just got back behind the counter when the woman bellowed expletives and then said, ‘What is with the service in this place? I said I want a hot cup of coffee…NOW!’
The waitress, without losing her cool, took the coffee pot over, looked at the woman, then at her steaming cup of coffee, and said, ‘I’d be very happy to refill your cup when you drink some of the coffee I already poured for you. I can’t put anymore in the cup.’
The lady looked like she felt knee-high to an ant.”
That Is Against Physics
“As the Chef in charge of the broiler and grill it was my responsibility to see to the cooking of all the steaks.
A customer had ordered a 23 oz. Porterhouse well-done [silent screams are rent from my soul] at which time I asked and received permission from the customer to ‘butterfly’ (cutting it length-wise on a horizontal bias. Leaving just enough to open the steak where it is half as thick) his steak, so he could dine with his table-mates.
Long story short: He returned the steak three times saying it wasn’t cooked well enough because there was juice present in the steak.
So I put it on the hottest part of my grill (about 700°F) and then I took a flame-heated fajitas skillet and pressed it over the top of the steak.
I personally brought the steak out and waited to see if it met with his approval.
The customer said: ‘oh, I can’t eat this – it’s too dry. There’s no moisture in the steak.’
And I said: ‘Sir you said you wanted no juice.’
The customer says: ‘Of course I asked for no juice! That doesn’t mean it can’t be moist!’
I just threw my hands in the air and turned and walked back to my kitchen.”
Bigshot Over Here
“I was a conference and banqueting coordinator at one of the top hotels in Edinburgh and one of my perks was a free lunch in our restaurant.
One day, a couple was seated at a nearby table. He was obviously trying to impress the young lady and was being very boastful about his cars, money, house, clothes etc. Everything about him was a bit too new and too flashy.
Our lovely Filipina assistant restaurant manager went to take their order and, as is normal, repeated their choices to them whilst writing on her order pad. He requested the Tournedos Rossini (although his pronunciation was completely garbled) and she repeated it, but correctly pronounced it. The man took this as a personal insult and started screaming and shouting at her for deliberately embarrassing him. The poor girl fled the restaurant in tears.
Our General Manager then appeared, listened to the gobby bloke rant for a minute, and demanded that he and his lunch date leave immediately and never return to any of the restaurants or bars in the hotel.”
How Dare You Be Hot
“Eons ago, I worked as a server in the restaurant of a private country club.
Nearly everybody you’d see in the dining room were part of the 1% and over age 65.
The restaurant had indoor tables and outdoor tables.
While working outdoors in the summer, in long black pants and a black long-sleeve shirt, covered full black apron, one could get VERY sweaty.
Somebody complained that the servers looked too sweaty. The manager tried to come up with ways for us not to look sweaty, one of which was putting cold water on our faces now and then. But there were complaints about that too since the water sorta looked like sweat.
Racing around the indoors of the restaurant in the summer was also not a pleasure. Some old hag, who probably had the same circulation as the average dead person, complained the A/C was too cold. The problem with that was the A/C was almost never turned on, unless the outdoor temperature was close to 90 degrees.”
Worst Type Of People
“One couple brought about four kids to the restaurant on a ‘kids eat free’ night. Everyone ordered nice, big meals.
The couple complained that their food was too greasy. The waitress then apologized and comped the meal as free.
The server brought their bill for the children because they did not order from the kid’s menu (the menu specifically says it). They complained about a radio advertisement saying kids eat free and that’s what it should be. They argued for a good 5 minutes before the waitress finally decided to comp the remaining 4 meals.
What outraged me even more was that they then asked for to go boxes for their meals after complaining that the food was too greasy.”
Awful Lady
“In the late ’90s, when I was only 21, I was working as a waitress in an ‘old country store’ restaurant in the US that serves Southern comfort food. The restaurant was and still is quite popular and always busy during peak times, especially since they are typically located close to exits on the interstate.
The one thing the servers hated to see was a tour bus pull into the parking lot. These buses didn’t carry musicians; they carried elderly folks on group vacations. The reason we hated these buses was because we would get slammed with tables full of tired, cranky old folks who didn’t tip worth anything and were always demanding and difficult.
This particular day, we were already slammed by weekend lunch crowds, and my tables were full to bursting with old ladies heading to Vermont to view the fall colors of leaves. One of my tables that normally seats four people had a chair placed on the end to accommodate a party of five old ladies. This placed one of the ladies in the aisle where I had to walk in order to serve my other tables including a two-top right next to them. I did my best to serve all four of my tables quickly and efficiently, but the old ladies were particularly needy, demanding, and kept me running for something the entire time. The loudest and rudest of them was the lady sitting in the aisle.
After I served the old ladies their meals, I went back to the kitchen to get the order for my two-top. In order to serve them, I had to stand directly behind the chair of the aisle lady in a narrow opening between them. From the time I made my re-appearance and all the way through serving my other two customers, the aisle lady kept yelling, ‘Excuse me! Hey, waitress! I’m talking to you! How dare you ignore me!’
I was ignoring her, because I had a large tray with two plates of food, bread, and a bowl full jellies. I figured I would deliver the food and ensure my two-top was set before finally turning around to address the harridan to my back because they were my customers, too, and deserved my full attention.
My mistake.
No sooner than I set the second plate of dinner on the table, the slag sitting behind me shoved her chair back until it knocked into me. My large tray went flying and crashed to floor along with the bowl of jellies and basket of bread. The resounding crash echoed throughout the dining room and everyone went silent. All eyes were on me as I stood there stunned speechless by her actions. In the loaded silence, the old cow said smugly, ‘THAT got your attention, didn’t it?’
Not only was I mortified by the incident, but I was FURIOUS. Still, I needed my job to support my two-year-old baby, so I kept my composure. Without turning around to address her, I apologized to the flabbergasted couple I had been serving and promised to bring them more bread and jelly shortly. Still ignoring the cow and her table, I carefully cleaned up the mess and retreated to the kitchen. After getting more bread for my couple, I found my manager and handed him the five separate tickets for the table of old ladies and told him he would have to finish the table because I refused to deal with them again. I am a very non-confrontational person and always eager to please, so the manager didn’t even blink before taking them over for me.
I was a waitress for over three years before I finally moved on to retail. I’ve never had anyone treat me with such callous disregard and rude behavior as I did when I worked as a restaurant server.”