Customer: “I’m so happy you had this sauce! I was looking everywhere for it!”

Me: “Oh, I’m usually pretty good at knowing what we have in stock, but I’ve never seen this one. What’s it for?” 

Customer: “It’s used for Puerto Rican food. It’s a very special and unique flavor that you can’t really get from anything else. I love that your store sells it.”

Me: “I’m really happy we had it for you! I’ve never had Puerto Rican food, but I’ll look up this sauce later and see what it goes well with.” 

They check out, and I continue with my shift as normal. About three hours later, I see the customer back at my checkout lane.

Customer: “Oh, good! You’re still here! I was worried your shift might have ended!”

Me: “Is everything okay?”

They hand over some Tupperware containing what looks like many different types of food.

Customer: “I was telling my mom about the cashier who’d never had Puerto Rican food, and I swear you could’ve heard her gasp from here. She cooked up a little bit of everything and made me run back over here for you to try some.”

Me: “Oh, my! That’s so nice of you! And her! Thank you so much!”

Customer: “I’ll be back next week for your opinion!” 

Me: “And the Tupperware!” 

Customer: “Nah, it’s okay. Mom never expects to get those back.”

Not only was the food delicious, but I tried it with the sauce from my store, and it really enhanced it! I still returned the Tupperware the next week (I had it on me for every shift just in case), and it’s a good thing I did because even more food came my way from that crazy Puerto Rican mother the following week.

I became an expert on Puerto Rican food just from sitting at my checkout lane!

Our restaurant is in a pretty conservative state. This is right after we are allowed to reopen following the lockdowns. The rule right now is that guests have to wear masks as they enter the building, but once they’re seated, they can remove them.

One of our bartenders is working as a maître d’.

Customer: “Don’t you think it’s stupid that we have to wear the masks just until we get to our table?”

Bartender: *Without skipping a beat* “Yep, almost as stupid as arguing about it.”

SOMEHOW, the guest just laughed it off and said, “Good point.”

I work in a nursing home. I don’t want to sound like I’m making fun of the residents, but working with people with dementia can be a real trip, like the guy who screams and the lady who thinks I’m her grandmother. This one resident, though, is pretty sassy.

One day, I’m walking by and see a nurse trying to give her a shot.

Resident: “What are you doing?”

Nurse: “Giving you your insulin.”

Resident: *With some attitude* “What makes you think I don’t have enough?”

Another time, a medical aide asks for her finger so she can test her blood. The resident sticks out her middle finger.

Resident: “Is this one good?”

This happened in the 1950s. My grandfather Al was an abusive jacka** but was also an excellent auto mechanic. When other mechanics couldn’t figure out the problem, they’d tell their customers to take their car to Al. He’d fix the problem, but he’d yell at the customer for not doing the required maintenance or some other infraction.

One day, a woman pulled up to the garage. The car battery kept dying. She’d had the battery, alternator, and countless other parts replaced by other mechanics to no avail.

Grandpa walked around the back of the car, opened the trunk, twisted the metal bracket holding the trunk light in place, and then closed the trunk.

Grandpa: “Problem fixed, no charge.”

The woman burst into tears.

Back in those days, the trunk light turned off and on via a mercury switch — a little glass vial with wires and a blob of mercury. When you opened the trunk, the vial tilted and the mercury contacted the wires, creating an electrical connection and turning the light on. The bracket holding the vial was bent, so the light was always on, draining the battery.

I am the manager on duty at the bar/restaurant one super busy night. We have two separate bars: one at the very entrance to the building and one at the back. I am floating between both bars to make sure all my other bartenders are doing okay.

I go to check on the back bar, and I notice that the tap handle for one of the draught beers is missing. At first, I think one of my coworkers is screwing with me since we all do silly s*** to each other frequently.

Me: “Yo, [Coworker], where is the [Beer Brand] handle?”

Coworker: “Oh, it’s gone? It wasn’t me!”

Me: “[Barback], you f****** with us again?”

Barback: “I swear, it’s not me!”

I even check with the kitchen staff, and no one has the handle. When I come back to the bar, I see some random dude reaching across my bar, attempting to unscrew a different tap handle!

Me: “You! What the f*** do you think you’re doing?!”

They all start laughing and his friends start chanting, “Busted!”

Me: “You’re all going to leave unless I get my tap handle back.”

Handle Stealer: “Anyone can reach them; it could have been anyone in this bar!”

Me: “That’s funny. I’ve been here for years, and no one else has been stupid enough to try that and think it’s okay.”

They all got kicked out because of him, and our beer rep got us a new handle within a couple of days. I sent the camera footage of the guy and all of his friends to every bar in the area (we bartenders like to keep local town networks) and made sure they couldn’t go out for a drink anywhere in town for a long while.