(My family and I are at a popular restaurant on Mother’s Day — a Sunday — so the restaurant is quite busy, and there is a thirty-minute wait. Finally, we are seated, and then we see why there is such a long wait. There is a family who is taking up four tables. There are six kids, and five adults, but they do not need four tables. As we sit down, we hear them order. They are ordering the biggest and most time-consuming meals in the restaurant, with a ridiculous amount of sides. [Waitress #1] is already overwhelmed by the amount of people. She eventually brings all their food out and tries to get our drink order. Before she can finish, the mother from the other table calls her over.)

Mother: “Excuse me, all of our orders are wrong! I want you to take them all back and remake them the right way, and get us the right food this time!”

Waitress #1: “What is wrong with your food?”

Mother: “They all are cold, half are wrong, this one is undercooked, this one is burnt, and that one just looks plain nasty. It’s all just wrong!”

(She goes on for about five more minutes before she demands ALL of their meals are taken back and remade. At this point, half of their food is already eaten. It’s clear what they are doing now. The waitress is stressing even more and begins tearing up.)

Waitress #1: “Ma’am, you already have eaten half of your meals; I can’t possible take them back now—”

Mother: “Shut up. Take them back. We are not paying and waiting this long to get s***ty food! Take. It. All. Back. NOW!”

Waitress #1: “I’ll see what I can do.”

(A few minutes later, she comes back with their orders remade. Because of this, we still have yet to get our drinks. As soon as the food is placed on the table, there is another problem.)

Mother: “Umm, no. My son ordered the strawberry banana pancakes. Those are not strawberry banana. I don’t know what those… things are.”

Waitress #1: “Those are definitely strawberry ban—”

Father: “Stop. If my wife says they are wrong, then they are wrong. Go get the right pancakes, now!”

(She sighs and takes another half-eaten meal to bring a new one back. We have ordered our food, but have not gotten it yet because the family next to us keeps sending more and more food back. Soon, the manager comes out and tells them they can’t order any more food. They get irritated and complain, but it does nothing. [Waitress #1] comes out again. It’s obvious she has been crying.)

Mother: “Hey, you! Our drinks are wrong, too. Bring us back all new ones. Oh, and you got my son’s pancakes wrong again.”

([Waitress #1] has had enough of their s*** like everyone else has.)

Waitress #1: “I already brought you your pancakes!”

(She walks off without listening to anything else and rubs her head. A tear rolls down her face. We have our food now, and they finish theirs soon after. We think it is over, but it’s not even close. At this point, their brat kids have destroyed the table and gotten food all over the floor. They are also being extremely loud and obnoxious. Everyone has asked countless times for the kids to calm down, but it is either ignored or a rude remark is said and nothing is done. Soon, the manager comes out again and hands them their check. This just makes the mother even angrier.)

Mother: “ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! ONLY $25 OFF?! AFTER GETTING ALL THE WRONG FOOD AND DRINKS, AND THE WORLD’S S***TIEST SERVICE EVER?! I DEMAND YOU TAKE OFF MORE. NOW!”

Manager: “I can’t do that! You got the right foo—”

Father: “Just listen to her!”

(The manager storms off and sends [Waitress #2] to give them their new check. They get four meals and all their drinks off the check. It still isn’t good enough.)

Father: “Of course, you forgot the military discount. Incompetence.”

(He tosses the check onto the table into the smeared mess. [Waitress #1] comes back and takes the check. Their final price is $80.32. They all scoff, pay, and leave in a rush. They don’t leave a tip, but they leave a huge mess. Both waitresses come to our table and look somewhat relieved.)

Waitress #1: “I would like to thank you guys for not being like that last family.”

Waitress #2: “I can’t believe people actually do stuff like that! They just took so much food and money from us. I don’t know why my boss didn’t just kick them out…”

Waitress #1: “I am so sorry for that and the huge inconvenience.”

My Mother: “You don’t have to apologize for anything. It’s not your fault a**holes like that are allowed in restaurants.”

My Father: “I would like to apologize on behalf of all military men like that. They give us all a bad name, and we’re not all like that f****** d**k.”

(The waitress started to cry again and my mother got up and hugged her. She thanked my dad for his service and thanked us all for being so kind. We paid and left a $30 tip for what that woman had to go through. Later, we found out the family had quite a bad reputation in our town for trying to screw restaurants out of money and food, then leaving huge messes and never tipping. People like that should not be allowed in restaurants.)

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(I have worked at the fabric counter in a fabric and craft store for about four months. This conversation happens in May:)

Customer: “Is that two yards?”

Me: “Yes.”

Customer: “Okay. It’s just that you’re new—”

Me: “I’ve been working back here since February.”

Customer: “Oh. I don’t come in that often.”

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Caller: “What is your best rate for an ocean view room for Friday night?”

Me: “$350 for that night.”

Caller: “I’m not paying that! Give me a better rate.”

Me: “Well, we have a better rate on a non-ocean view room: $269.”

Caller: “NO, I don’t want to look at the alleyways! I can get a better rate than that on the Internet!”

Me: “Which website? We can match rates if you see a cheaper one.”

Caller: “Any website! No one ever pays full price for a room. If I was Indian, you would give me a better rate!”

Me: *baffled silence*

Caller: “Because I would keep talking until I wore you down! If that’s the best you can do, I will go elsewhere!”

Me: “Sir, $350 is the best rate I can do. Have a good evening!”

(The caller, stunned that I didn’t immediately try to please him to get his business, left a long pause, then slowly hung up.)

(A woman comes in, rattling a bottle, and goes straight to the my register.)

Customer: “I need to return this.”

Me: “Okay; I just need to ask why, and we’ll get started!”

Customer: “These vitamins contain [obscure ingredient], and I’m not putting it in my body.”

(It now becomes pertinent that our entire chain stopped selling vitamins over a year prior to this story.)

Me: “Well, I’m not sure if I can help or not, with something purchased so long ago. Do you have your receipt?”

Customer: “No, I don’t. Are you saying you won’t stand by your product?”

Me: “The problem is I don’t know how much to refund you, and it was purchased a very long time ago.”

(I try to ring up the bottle, but of course I get “item not found.”)

Me: “At this point, I’m not able to refund this. It doesn’t appear in our system, and you don’t have a receipt.”

Customer: “So, you won’t stand by your product.”

Me: “I literally cannot ring it up.”

Customer: “So, you won’t stand by your product.”

(This goes on until a manager gets involved and decides to give her a gift card just to get rid of her.)

Me: “Ma’am, do you have any idea how much you paid for this?”

Customer: “$4.99.”

(When it was all over, my manager and I looked at each other and burst out laughing over this woman raising a fifteen-minute confrontation over five dollars she spent a year ago.)

(I have recently been promoted to manager at a popular theater chain. It’s the opening weekend of “The Hunger Games: Catching Fire,” and we’ve been slammed all day. I’m folding kid’s meal trays at the concessions counter with only ten minutes left of my shift when I’m approached by a guest.)

Me: “Hey, did you need some help?”

Guest: *very stern* “Theater one is stiflingly hot!”

(Our auditoriums’ heat and AC units are set on a timer that we adjust. Most of the time, the last shows of the night are less occupied, so we pump the heat to make up for the lack of body heat. This showing is sold out and we have forgotten to adjust the heat, which is our fault.)

Me: “Oh, I’m sor—”

Guest: *pointing finger in my face* “WHY DIDN’T YOU DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT?!”

Me: “I’m really sorry about that; that’s an oversight on our part. Just out of curiosity, did you see the usher enter the theater at any point?”

Guest: “Yeah.”

Me: “If anything’s ever disrupting the film in any way, feel free to flag him down and let him know. That way, you don’t have to miss the feature t—”

Guest: “I DIDN’T SAY ANYTHING BECAUSE I FIGURED SOMEONE ELSE WOULD, BECAUSE IT WAS SO HOT!”

(As soon as he says that, I no longer have any sympathy for him.)

Me: “Again, I’m really sorry about that. I’ll adjust the heat right now.”

Guest: “Oh, never mind. The movie’s already over!” *walks away*

(Five minutes later, I’m approached by two other guests.)

Other Guests: “Excuse me, sir. The heat in theater one was really high.”

Me: “I apolo—”

Guest: *walks up from behind the guests, splits them aside, and points a finger at me* “I TOLD HIM ABOUT IT AND HE SAID HE COULDN’T DO ANYTHING!”

Me: *patience all but gone* “Do you want a readmission ticket? Is that what you want?!”

Guest: “Well, yes! I think I deserve one! And so do these people! Everyone in auditorium one should get one!”

(Luckily, all 160 people from theater one weren’t standing in the lobby, or I would’ve had to give them all one. So, I left and grabbed three readmission tickets. I handed the man one and he headed for the door, still complaining loudly as he left. A couple minutes later, I was approached by yet another group of guests, who were also upset about the heat, but voiced their concerns in a calm, rational manner. I gave them three readmission tickets a piece just for being human beings about it.)