I am on a long road trip and get hungry. As I’m in a rural area, there are not many options for food, and I end up stopping at a fast food place I typically try to avoid. Inside there is a sign that says that due to staff shortages, customers need to order from the kiosks. There is one employee working the front end, making the specialty drinks, calling out order numbers, and handling customer complaints.

Our order numbers are listed in order on a TV screen above the pick-up counter. Every number is being called out in order, without variation. I am order number seventeen, and until order number sixteen gets their food, there is no issue. I move up to the counter as I should be next, but a man shoves his way in front of me.

Man: “Where is my order? I’ve been waiting for five minutes!”

Employee: “Sir, you have order number nineteen. You need to wait until your number is called. There are customers ahead of you.”

Man: “I don’t care! I ordered four kids’ meals and four apple pies. Give them to me now!”

Employee: “Sir, I can’t do that. There are customers who have been waiting longer.”

Man: “I left my kids in the car alone! The oldest is only six! They’re probably crying with starvation by now. You are literally starving my babies! I won’t wait a minute longer. Give me my kids’ meals!”

The employee puts a rush on his order after that, and he is served next. The employee looks flustered but begins making a medium pineapple mango smoothie, which I ordered. A woman in a business suit pushes her way past me and begins drumming her nails on the counter. The employee sets the smoothie and a bag containing a chicken sandwich and apple slices on the counter. The woman immediately grabs the smoothie.

Employee: “Order number seventeen!”

Woman: “This is wrong! I ordered a salad.”

Employee: “No, number seventeen had a smoothie, sandwich, and apples.”

Woman: “Are you stupid? I had a smoothie and a salad!”

Me: “She’s not stupid. That’s my smoothie you took. We must have ordered the same one. That is my order.”

Woman: “Don’t defend her. She made my order wrong. Get me my f****** salad!”

Employee: “Yes, ma’am.”

The employee, now looking extremely confused and flustered, bags the woman’s salad and puts it on the counter.

Employee: “So sorry for the mix-up. I don’t know how I got the order numbers confused.”

Woman: “Whatever.”

The employee now starts making an iced coffee.

Me: “Ma’am, I still haven’t gotten my smoothie. Medium pineapple mango.”

Employee: “I already made that.”

Me: “And the lady with the salad took it. I ordered the same one, with the sandwich and apples.”

Employee: “Oh, my gosh! I am so sorry! I thought the smoothie went with that order! I didn’t realize two customers ordered the same one. I was so confused when she said she ordered a salad. I’ll make your smoothie now.”

She made my smoothie and then checked the order numbers. The woman with the salad was order number twenty, which is why the employee hadn’t seen her smoothie order yet. If the customers had just waited for their turns like they were supposed to, we wouldn’t have had an issue.

I work in a fast food restaurant.

Customer: “Can I get a birthday cake cookie?”

Me: “I’m sorry, we don’t carry those.”

Customer: “What cookies do you have?”

Me: “Chocolate chip, sugar, white macadamia, oatmeal raisin, and brownies.”

Customer: “Can I get a peanut butter cookie?”

Me: “I’m sorry, we don’t carry those.”

Customer: “What cookies do you have?”

We go around like this a few times until:

Customer: “Never mind. I’ll go somewhere else.”

I’m working in a fast food place during the Sunday after-church rush, and we have a line so long that people are waiting outside the store. A family of three makes it to the counter. Despite the fact that they have had plenty of time to look at the menu board, the parents don’t know what kids’ meal to get their three-year-old. Their options are a hard shell taco, soft shell taco, or bean burrito. They keep changing their minds after I ring it up.

I can tell my manager is getting annoyed as she is working the hot table and knows we have a mass of people waiting.

Me: “If you don’t know what to order, please step to the side and let me know when you have decided. I can’t have you holding up the line.”

This was not the thing to say, apparently. The father, dressed in his Sunday best, starts tearing me a new one in front of the entire crowd.

Customer: “You low-life degenerate! You’re probably a college dropout who can’t make change!”

He isn’t saying this quietly. I wipe his order and start helping the next customer — because screw him.

Once his order is wiped, he knocks over our cup display and shouts:

Customer: “Now, listen here, you piece of s***!”

Manager: “Get out of the store or I’m calling the cops.”

Customer: “Oh, yeah? What are the cops going to do?”

The best moment I’ve ever had working in fast food is my manager turning to the corral and saying:

Manager: “Show of hands, who here just witnessed this guy verbally assaulting my employee?”

A large number of customers raise their hands. My manager then tells the customer to get out and not to come back.

He tries to come through the drive-thru about thirty minutes later. He orders the same combos and a kid’s meal. He gets to the window and there stands my manager.

Manager: “Not going to happen. Keep driving, jacka**.”

After driving for eight hours, I finally reach my hotel. I’m exhausted but starving. Not wanting to try and park again in the small hotel parking lot, I walk to a nearby popular fast food joint. An employee is cleaning tables outside.

Employee: “Sorry, inside’s shut. The drive-thru is open, though.”

Me: “Bugger. I walked up from [Hotel]. Is there any way I can order and pay on the app and someone bring it out here?”

Employee: “We’re not busy. Just walk through to the first window I’ll meet you there.”

Me: “Thank you so much!”

I walk through, order, and pay on my card. I try to hand him $10 as a thank-you; tipping is very uncommon here.

Employee: “Don’t worry about it. Just glad to be able to help. If you want to take a seat out the front, I’ll bring it out to you.”

It only took a minute before he came out with my food and wished me a good night. When I got back to my room, I found extra nuggets and a chocolate doughnut from their café. Thank you, kind worker; you brightened a long stressful day!

We have a regular who really likes pickles. He’s ordered just about every sandwich on the menu multiple times, but one thing that’s consistent is he always asks for extra pickles.

I see him coming one day, and after he orders his sandwich, I ask:

Me: “Would you like extra pickles?”

Regular: “I don’t just want extra pickles. I want a prodigious quantity of pickles. I want you to go to town on that extra pickle button on your cash register like you’re playing Diablo on your mom’s old computer with your friends on LAN. I want you to punch that button like you’re in a martial arts movie doing lightning punches. I want more extra pickles than you’ve given anyone before. I want you to take my sandwich and present it to me in a jar full of pickles.”

He pauses.

Regular: “I know that’s not something I can get, so I’ll settle for ‘extra’ pickles.”

Me: “Actually, I might be able to do something for you.”

Regular: “Really?”

Me: “One moment.”

I went back and discussed my idea with the boss, and he gave us the approval to do it. We made his sandwich and put it in a pickle jar full of pickles. These things are huge.

I presented it to the customer and he started laughing. He was really happy about it! We took a picture together — him, me, and the pickle jar. The boss had the picture blown up and laminated and put it on the wall of the store.

The regular still comes in for his pickle sandwiches, though he’s never requested a jar full of pickles since.