I’ve been having a bad time: I was just laid off from my job, I caught my boyfriend with my best friend who threw me out of our shared apartment, and I started my period.

My sisters decide to take me out to my favorite restaurant for lunch and we order a nacho plate, fried pickles, chicken strips, cheeseburgers, and Cokes. The waiter appears after our food has arrived.

Waiter: “Got a lot of food there, ladies. Don’t you think you have enough?”

He laughs like it’s funny, but I burst into tears and start crying. My sister demands to see the manager, and the waiter puts up his hands.

Waiter: “Woah! Just a joke!”

Older Sister: “Manager, now!”

Younger Sister: “Don’t ever say that to a woman!”

The manager comes over and when he hears what happened, he gives us the entire meal for free, and he orders the waiter into his office. Minutes later, the waiter storms out, face red as a tomato, and he comes over to our table. 

Waiter: “I’m sorry, that was insensitive. I shouldn’t have said it. I honestly thought it would be funny.”

At my last job, I worked in a tea house where the manager was also the owner of the business. Like most businesses, we received our fair share of solicitor calls, but we had an advantage for detecting these calls early. The owner’s husband’s name had been put down on some piece of paperwork when opening the business, so we could always tell when a solicitor was calling because they would ask for her husband’s name.

The owner had no tolerance for solicitor calls, so as soon as someone asked for her husband’s name, we would say, “We don’t accept sales calls,” and hang up on them.

There are a lot of things that I do not miss about that job, but hanging up on solicitors and leaving them to wonder how on earth we figured it out so quickly was one of the perks.

I’ve just started working as a delivery driver for a restaurant when I receive the news that my grandmother — who has been sick for a long time — has just passed away. Note that this means traveling out of state — about two days of driving — to get back to where I grew up for the funeral.

I go in to speak to my manager who is very understanding and gives me the two days off that I need for the trip back home.

When I was hired, I was told that we would have to memorize the ingredients to the store’s preset sandwiches; each sandwich has a name and we have to know all of the individual ingredients that go on it.

There is also another manager who is currently being trained to replace the manager who hired me.

When I come back from the vacation, I get thrown on the cash register for most of my shifts for about a week, and thus, since I’m not working at the make table, I don’t really get much of a chance to learn the sandwiches.

About two weeks after I’ve been hired, I’ve barely had any time to study the sandwich ingredients outside of work, which I’m leery to do since this is a minimum-wage job. I also haven’t had any time to study on the job since I’m assigned other tasks during downtime. I don’t mind but I asked when I was hired if I could study the sandwiches during downtime and thought I was told yes.

About two weeks after I’ve been hired, the owner asks me an admittedly easy question about sandwiches.

The next day, the shift I’m working just doesn’t go well. One of the other stores closes in the area temporarily for a remodel and that means the driver for that store is working here to cover the increased deliveries. But something happens which I don’t quite get and one leaves in a huff. After that, the shift leader breaks down crying.

Meanwhile, I’m assigned to cleaning cabinets since it’s slow, which means I’m having to get down and off the floor a lot whenever a customer comes in. I spend most of the shift trying to mind my own business and stay out of other people’s way. Needless to say, by the end of the shift that day, I’m sore from being on my knees all day and not in the best mood.

The manager in training asks me to punch out and then pulls me aside to talk to me.

Manager Trainee: “Look, the owner spoke with me and says that you need to know your sandwiches.”

Me: “I know that. I’m sorry, but my grandmother just passed away and I had to travel out of state to go to the funeral. Also, every shift I’ve worked, I’ve worked the cash register and not the make table.”

Manager Trainee: *Starts yelling* “WELL, I WAS TOLD YOU WORKED HERE FIVE WEEKS AND STILL DIDN’T KNOW YOUR SANDWICHES, AND IF YOU DON’T LEARN YOUR SANDWICHES, YOU’RE FIRED.”

Needless to say, I ALMOST quit on the spot and am not entirely sure why I didn’t, other than the fact that I kind of needed the job. Honestly, I don’t need my employer to be a great big bundle of emotional support all the time or anything. But not getting yelled at when I tell them a close relative passed away would be nice.

I go out to an Italian restaurant with a big group of friends before our senior prom. We are going the low-budget route where we carpool in our moms’ minivans and most of us are wearing homemade dresses. We do each other’s hair and makeup at my house before we go out, and we are dressed to the nines. 

We order our food, and our waitress skillfully manages the dozen of us with little trouble. We enjoy our meal and ask our superb waitress for the check.

Waitress: “Oh, that table over there already paid it in full! You’re all set!”

Us: “Wait, what?!“

Waitress: “You don’t know them? I just assumed they were your parents or something.”

Us: “No! Oh my gosh! Thank you!“

People At The Other Table: “Enjoy your prom! You all look so lovely!”

We were practically crying and so excited. The total had to have been over $200. We left our waitress a big tip anyway, just because.

This story is part of our Feel Good roundup for September 2020!

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Read the Feel Good roundup for September 2020!

I’m working a cashier shift at a Chinese buffet that also does takeaway and delivery. For takeaway we always make fresh food and don’t allow people to take food from the buffet. As a result, we have two separate menus: the buffet which changes with whatever food is in season and the takeout which is your more standard Chinese fair like chicken balls and fried rice. Most people in the area know this or realize the difference once it’s explained to them.

Today, a newer coworker is working with me at the cash. A woman who is visibly drunk comes in. I greet her.

Me: “Hello and welcome! Is it buffet or takeout today?”

Customer: “Takeout.”

I direct her to my coworker at the takeout counter and take the next customer. She orders a combo plate but doesn’t pay for it yet and goes outside for a smoke to wait for it to be ready.

A few minutes later, she comes back. My coworker tells her the total and she empties what money she has onto the counter. She only has $6.25 and the combo plate costs almost ten dollars. He’s unsure what to do so I take over.

Me: “I’m sorry, but you don’t have enough for a combo plate. Did you want something else, instead?”

Customer: “I want ribs.”

I do a quick calculation. Even the smallest portion of ribs we offer without sides is $1.50 over what she has.

Me: “I’m sorry, but you don’t have enough money for ribs. I can offer you something else, like a fried rice or a wonton soup? You have enough money for those.”

Customer: “Sure.”

Me: “Okay, so we have [options]; which one would you like?”

Customer: “I want ribs.”

Me: “I’m sorry, you don’t have enough money for ribs. I can give you a fried rice; those have meat in them, as well.”

Customer: “Just take a fried rice and put the ribs in, instead.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but I can’t do that; ribs cost more than rice or soup. You don’t have enough for the ribs today.”

Customer: “IT’S ALL YOU CAN EAT, B****!”

She stormed out.