My parents own farmland and rent it out to farmers. We went to a seminar for farm owners, so there were lots of very wealthy people in the mix. They served us lunch at the hotel restaurant, and it was very good food.

This hotel is part of a huge international chain, so it was their own catering service.

At the end of the meal, one of the women at our table flagged down a waiter.

Woman: “Can I get a box to take the rest of my food home in?”

Waitstaff: “We don’t have boxes or allow anyone to take the leftovers home.”

Woman: “That’s terrible! You just lost your tip!”

Waitstaff: “I’m sorry you feel that way.”

Woman: “That’s it?! You’re not going to do anything for me?”

Waitstaff: “I can get my manager for you.”

They got the manager, who came out and told her the same thing: she couldn’t take home the food. Cue her screaming at the manager.

Manager: “Ma’am! There are still a full six hours left of lectures for your event. We cannot ensure the quality of your food being left out or in a box that long. We would be liable for any food safety issues.”

Woman: “I can’t even take this food home to my dog?!”

Manager: *Knowing what kind of seminar this is* “You can afford a farm, but you can’t afford dog food?”

Woman: “I will ruin you! You don’t know who you’re messing with!”

My dad looked at me and explained quietly.

Dad: “I know who she is; she only lives like twenty minutes from us. She has a net worth of at least ten million, I’d say.”

Me: “And she’s whining about not being able to take home a few bites of leftover pot roast?” 

I don’t doubt that she has some influence with as rich as she is, but as far as I know, she has yet to take down the Hilton!

My aunt used to do some embarrassing stuff at restaurants. Her favorite was to order something, eat 90% of it, and then call over the waitstaff.

Aunt: “This was inedible and absolutely awful! I shouldn’t have to pay for it!”

Apparently, back in the day, this worked and she would frequently receive free meals. Until one time when it didn’t.

The waitstaff looked her dead in the eye.

Waitstaff: “You ate it. Therefore, you will pay for it, and I hope you enjoyed it because this will be the last time you are allowed here.”

She got super embarrassed, paid, and rushed out of there. After tucking her tail and running, her “Customer-Is-Always-Right” core recharged and she called the restaurant to complain.

I’m not sure if she got the manager or the owner, but they essentially told her the same thing as the waitstaff. Her husband, who had no issues with her scamming places, got mad and wanted to pursue some sort of legal action. Nothing came of it.

This is one of the many reasons my family and I haven’t seen or talked to her since I was eleven or so. I’m thirty-two now.

When I worked in a restaurant, we sadly had this customer who would complain about the prices from start to finish. The drink was too much. The steak was too much. She could hardly order dessert with our “exorbitant prices”.

Customer: “Can’t you give me some kind of discount?”

Me: “The only discount I can do is the one which I have already applied.”

I brought her bill and walked away before this middle-aged woman realized I’d given her a senior citizen discount. I saw her notice from a distance and saw her brain freeze from the feedback loop of accepting the discount or complaining about it and losing it.

She kept the discount.

A few years ago, I was spending the day with my dad, and we decided to eat at a branch of what was at the time a large national restaurant chain that specialised in having locations along major road networks to cater to travellers, truckers, etc. We ordered and got talking — so much so that it wasn’t until forty-five minutes later that we realised we’d not received our food.

My dad went and found someone, who went to find out what had happened to our food. She came back after a few minutes, apologised, and admitted that our order had been forgotten but would be made now. We hadn’t ordered any drinks, and she offered to get us some, the inference being that they were an apology for their mistake, so we said yes.

We weren’t in a huge rush, so we just got back to chatting until, before we knew it, another thirty-plus minutes had gone by and we’d still not received our food.

My dad once again went and found the same waitress, who again apologised and went off to find out what had happened. She came over and admitted the kitchen had forgotten our order a second time but would put it on immediately.

My dad and I just looked at each other, and without saying anything, we knew that we’d both decided to just leave it, so we politely told the waitress to forget it and got up to leave. However, as we were walking out, the manager came after us.

Manager: “You didn’t pay your bill!”

Dad: “We didn’t actually receive our order.”

Manager: “The bill is for the drinks you had.”

We were a bit put out by this and pointed out that it had now been an hour and a half since we’d ordered, they had forgotten to make our food twice, and the drinks had been offered to us as an apology.

Thankfully, the manager backed down, and we went on our way.

The kicker: the restaurant was absolutely empty except for my dad and me, and it had been the entire time. My dad had to go find someone both times as the waiting staff weren’t on the floor but off relaxing in a corner somewhere. 

I think our experience possibly explains why no other customers had been eating there despite it having been relatively busy when we’d been there before, and honestly, we weren’t surprised to see that over the next few years, the chain kept closing restaurants and eventually went out of business altogether.

We may not have gotten our food, but I got to spend some time with my dad, at least, which is always something I enjoy.

The restaurant where I work is counter service. One of our regulars is an old man with some sort of mental issue. He can’t really read and struggles through the menu, so over time, I’ve learned how to take his order quickly and with the least amount of hassle because he gets upset when I don’t understand his vague words and gestures. I have many stories about this customer, but this week was the worst with him yet.

Day 1:

Customer: “I want that sandwich with the stuff on it. It’s this big—” *makes two different shapes with his hands* “—and it’s got the stuff on it.”

He agrees to the sandwich I suggest, but when he gets it, he says it’s the wrong one. He says he’ll eat it anyway.

Day 2:

Same outcome with a second sandwich.

Day 3:

I ask my coworkers on the line about some of the sandwiches he usually gets, and someone suggests one I didn’t think of. It is the only sandwich with a certain item on it, so I show him that item and ask if that’s the “stuff” he’s been talking about. He says yes, and I think this is finally the end! Sadly, I am mistaken.

Day 4:

Me: “Hi, how are you, [Customer]? Was that the right one yesterday?”

Customer: “No! But I liked it, so I’ll take it again.”

Me: “Well, all right, then. At least it was good! That one’s actually my favorite.”

Customer: “Oh, is it? Well, all right. I’m going on a trip, so you won’t see me for a while.”

Me: “Aww, well, I hope you enjoy your trip! We can figure out that sandwich when you get back!”

Customer: “You’d better, or I’ll kill you.”

This is not said in a joking way. This is also where I draw the line and my politeness fades. I take a step back from my register.

Me: “Woah, that is absolutely not okay. That is unacceptable. You cannot talk to me like that!”

I notice my manager nearby and try to get her help.

Me: “[Manager], did you hear that? He cannot say that to me! That is not okay!”

Manager: “No, what did he say?”

Me: “He just threatened to kill me!”

Manager: “Oh, it’s just [Customer]. You know he’s…” *Gives me a knowing look*

Me: “I don’t care! He can’t say that.”

She leaves, and I’m forced to finish the transaction. I’m obviously thrown off and have to ask the next customer to repeat himself several times. My manager is still nearby, so I go ask her to take over so I can calm down.

Manager: “Take your minute, but it was just [Customer]. He probably didn’t mean it.”

I’m not willing to risk my life on a “probably”; he could have a weapon! I hope his “trip” is to an assisted living facility, and I never have to see him again!