(I’m attending to a client that has her bag and other stuff on the counter, and has to fill out some forms.)

Me: “Do you mind if I attend to another client while you fill out the forms?”

Client #1: “Sure!”

(I call another client, and she has to fill out some forms as well, so I return to Client #1.)

Me: “All done. That will be €5.50.”

Client #1: “Where’s my money?”

Me: “I’m sorry, what?”

Client #1: “I had my money right here in the counter, and it’s gone!”

(We both look for the money, trying to figure out if it has fallen to the floor. Suddenly I look at [Client #2], and realize what has happened.)

Me: *to Client #2* “Ma’am, did you take the money that was on the counter?”

Client #2: *after a long pause* “Yes, I did.”

Client #1: “Why on earth would you do that?!”

Client #2: “Well, I didn’t know it was yours; I thought it was hers!” *points to me*

Me: “So that would make it okay?!”

Client #2: *happily* “Exactly!”

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(I am working in the drive-thru window. I am talking to a customer and we both notice a group of four young teens WALKING down the drive-thru lane.)

Customer: *laughs* “Don’t you love how silly kids are? Well, good night!”

(The customer leaves, and the teens approach the drive-thru window.)

Teen: “Yea, hi. I want to order.”

Me: “Yea, sorry. Unfortunately I can’t serve you here unless you are in a car. You are welcome to come inside though.”

Teen: “What are you talking about? We are in a car, see! I’m the driver holding the wheel.” *holds imaginary wheel* “And my passengers!” *points at his three friends*

Me: “Sorry, but unless you can crash your car and dent my wall. I can’t serve you here.”

Teen: “Okay!” *makes screeching noises* “CRASH!”

(I’ve spent the last six years working in various different fast food companies. I’m extremely well known for how happy and polite I am at all times, something that always raises questions with coworkers and customers alike. My coworker is notorious for being miserable and moody to everyone she meets.)

Coworker #1: “Hey, how come you’re so nice to everyone all the time?”

Me: “Ha, you say it like it’s a bad thing!”

Coworker #1: “Oh no! But seriously though; you’re even nice to the bad ones! There’s got to be a reason for it!”

Me: “I don’t know, really. Well, I do remember something that’s always stuck with me. One day, when I was about six years old, I was queuing at a fast food place on my own. I reached the front of the queue and the cashier asked me if she could serve the man behind me. Being a kid and not really understanding, I let her. She then did this a further four times and completely ignored me until my mum noticed and stepped up. The cashier didn’t even apologize. Even though I’m now 22, this occurrence still bugs me to this day, so I guess I vowed to never be like that if I could help it!”

Coworker #1: “I wish I had a tragic fast food back story to make me a better worker too!”

Me: “You don’t need one. It’s not hard to smile at someone!”

Coworker: “Ugh, but I hate it here, and I hate having to serve them!”

Me: “Okay… Just think of it like this: how do you react when someone serves you in a shop and they don’t smile at you or ask you how you are, and continue talking to their coworkers the whole time?”

Coworker #1: “Well, I complain about it of course! People should be happy to serve others and do their job!”

Me: “Exactly. Maybe you should try smiling some time too then maybe customers will stop complaining about you.”

(I work in the in-store bakery at my supermarket. Our shelving-display signs warn that all of our products either contain nuts, or are prepared in the same food areas as products containing nuts. Two young girls aged about eight approach the shelving, and read aloud the notice.)

Girl #1: “The sign says that some of the food contains nuts. I wonder which things have them in.”

Girl #2: “Well duh, obviously all of the doughnuts have nuts. The clue is in the name. DOUGH. NUTS.”

(I’m working the counter, and I see a six-year-old boy walk in with his mother. The mother sits in the back while the boy goes to the counter to make his order.)

Me: “Hi, sweetie! What can I get you today?”

Boy: “Can I please have a small orange-creme shake?”

Me: “Of course. Anything else?”

Boy: “No.”

Me: “Alright, that’ll be one-ninety.”

(The boy’s face crumples, and he backs away from the counter, walks in a circle, then looks back at me.)

Boy: “What?”

Me: “One-ninety?”

(The boy begins crying, and rushes back to his mother.)

Boy: “Mommy! I need $200 for my shake, and we don’t have that kinda money!”

Mother: “What?”

Me: “Wait, wait, no, sweetheart! I mean it’s one dollar and ninety cents!”

Boy: “Oh, okay.”

(After that, he pays for his shake and acts like absolutely nothing has happened.)