Unfiltered Story #181171

(My family has gone out to dinner at a restaurant where you assemble your own stir-fry. Me, my dad, aunt and uncle, and grandma. It’s been quite a while since any of us ate here, and the procedure has been slightly different every time. Our waitress comes over with a selection of bowl sizes to choose from, and a stack of cards that get filled out to identify the orders once they’re cooked. She starts with my dad.)

Waitress: Okay, medium bowl. Can I get a name, sir?

Dad: [Last Name].

Me: *to the waitress* Wait, first name or last name?

Dad: Really? Do you really need to ask that?

Me: Well, since four out of five of us are [Last Name]s…

(My dad shoots me his “why are you pretending to be stupid” look, like he thinks I’m making a joke but can’t figure out what the punchline will be. The waitress just hands him his card and starts writing on another.)

Waitress: *to me* Okay, and you’ve got a medium bowl…

Me: [My Name].

Dad: Wait, what?

Waitress: Each of you gets a card to go with your bowl.

Me: Yeah, so my food has my name on it.

(The rest of the night went smoothly though!)