(Two Caucasian customers, wearing sweatshirts from a local university, walk in to our Chinese restaurant.)

Me: “Welcome to [Name] Chinese restaurant. What can I get for you?”

Customer #1: “I’m here to pick up an order for [Name].”

Me: “I’m sorry, but you asked for delivery when you placed the order. The food left for [address] 15 minutes ago.”

Customer #1: “Ouch. Can you have the driver come back?”

Me: “The driver has two other deliveries, so it will be another half an hour.”

Customer #1: “I don’t want to wait that long. Tell the driver to give it to one of the homeless people near [University].”

(At this point, Customer #2, who has been silent the whole time, starts screaming.)

Customer #2: *to Customer #1* “Yo, man. I want my food. Make this a**-hole give me some food!” *to me* “Jap b****, give me my godd*** food. Didn’t the A-bomb teach you b******s some respect?”

(Customer #2 then makes a number of additional ethnic slurs against the Japanese.)

Bystander: “Hi, there. I’m sorry to interrupt your tantrum, but I’ve had enough of it and I’d like for you to leave.”

Customer #1: “I’m sorry. I have no idea what’s gotten into him.”

Customer #2: “I’m not leaving without my food. You can’t make me leave. You’re not the manager!”

Bystander: “You’re right. I can’t make you leave the restaurant. I can, however, make you leave [University], being that I’m the provost.”

(Customer #2 goes pale and bolts out of the restaurant!)

This story was included in our Chinese Restaurant Roundup.

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January 2014 Top Story Roundup: Here are Not Always Right’s top-rated stories for last month!

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(My friends and I are sharing a pizza. My friends are thinking about starting a family, and we we’re chatting about it.)

Female Friend: “What are we going to do if we have kids? What are the kids going to do?”

Male Friend: “I don’t know what you’re going to do, but I know what they’re going to do and I know what I’m going to do.”

Female Friend: “What’s that?”

Male Friend: “They’re going to build forts out of our extra sheets and furniture in the dining room.”

Me: “Sure, sounds about right. And what are you going to do?”

Male Friend: “I’m going to stock up on tennis balls so that I can bomb their fort.”

(I am speaking with a guitar player in my band. He is in his fifties, African-American, and works in heating and cooling. I am eighteen, Caucasian, female, and single. I’m about to leave for college in a few weeks.)

Band Member: “So, sister, are you taking the car to school with you?” *nods toward my mom’s car*

Me: “No, I’m going without a car for my first semester.”

Band Member: “Well, just let me know if you need a ride! Remember that nice car I got?”

Me: “Aw, that’s so sweet!”

Band Member: “It’s a nice little smooth black car! You could borrow it, sister, and impress your date with it. You can tell him it’s from your uncle, and that your uncle’s a hit-man, so he’d better bring both you and the car back in one piece.”

(I am eight years old. I’m at a friend’s house, where there is a ‘eat everything on your plate’ rule. For dinner we have several veggies I don’t like. I can’t make myself eat them but I’m worried about seeming rude. My friend notices that I haven’t touched the veggies.)

Friend: “I really like carrots, so I can eat yours if you want. And since you don’t like peas, I can take them as well.”

Me: “Thank you!”

(I spoon my veggies onto her plate, and several minutes pass.)

Friend’s Mom: “Alright, now that everyone is done dinner, it’s time for dessert.”

Friend: “[My Name] didn’t finish her dinner! I ate all her vegetables! She doesn’t get dessert, because she didn’t finish and I should get two desserts!”