I am working at the bar at a VIP event and go to the fridge to get more stock. I am gone maybe forty-five seconds. In that time, some self-important a**hat comes behind the bar, cracks a bottle of the most expensive white wine, and pours himself two huge glasses. The guests all know they’re not supposed to go behind or access the bar.

Me: “Sir, you can’t be back here.”

Customer: “You were all being lazy and slacking off, and I hate waiting!”

He sneers at me and wanders off. About twenty minutes later, he’s back, and I am present at the bar.

Customer: “Ah, you’re actually doing your jobs this time. I’ll take two of the white wines.”

Me: “Absolutely, sir.”

I make sure that every time he comes back to the bar for the rest of the wedding, I serve him the cheapest wine on offer. I can tell he has a sour expression on his face when he takes a sip.

Customer: “What happened to the good stuff?”

Me: *Staring pointedly* “Oh, someone came behind the bar and stole them.”

He stared back at me but didn’t say anything else. I made sure everyone else got the good stuff that night, except him.

I am under eighteen, so I am not allowed to sell alcohol. There is a sign at almost every stage of my lane that states this, but we all know customers and signs! I am checking out a customer when I see the next customer in the lane with some alcohol in their cart. I take the opportunity to save them some time.

Me: “Excuse me, sir! Excuse me! Hi. Just to let you know, I am not allowed to sell you alcohol because—”

Before I can continue, the next customer starts shouting at me, almost spitting at the mouth.

Next Customer: “Why?! Are you one of them Muslims?! If it’s soooooo against your precious religion to touch alcohol, then they shouldn’t let you be working here!”

Me: “No, sir, it’s bec—”

Next Customer: “Go back to your own country if you don’t like the way it is here!”

The customer I am currently serving turns to the raving next customer and shouts over them.

Customer: “Oh, my God, shut up! Read the f****** sign! She’s sixteen! She can’t serve you alcohol because it’s the law!”

The next customer finally sees the sign and glares at us both.

Next Customer: “Well, you should have told me!”

Customer: “She tried to, but then your bigotry started showing. Now shut up and let me check out in peace!”

The next customer was quiet and sheepish for their whole transaction. Thank goodness some customers can say what we can’t!

A husband-and-wife couple walks into our fast food place looking a little drunk.

Husband: “I had five margaritas! I think that’s too much! I want a mocha milkshake for dessert!”

Me: “We don’t have that here.”

Husband: “What kind of Arby’s is this?”

Me: “Sir, this is a Hardee’s.”

He completely blanks out with this new information. The wife thankfully takes over.

Wife: “Can you mix some chocolate and vanilla shake together? He’s too drunk to notice the difference.”

I am a bartender for a bit after undergrad. A drunk woman is sitting on the barstool, and I notice her scoot her butt off the side of the stool, move her dress over a bit, and proceed to leave a dump right there on the stool.

Me: “Uh… ma’am?!“

Customer: *Like it’s the most normal thing* “Oh, you have washcloths, don’t you? I’ll move over there, and you can clean this up.”

Me: “Uh… you’re cleaning it yourself!”

Customer: “It’s not my job to clean your bar!”

Me: “And it’s not my job to clean up your s***, either! Get the f*** out!”

She grabs her car keys.

Me: “You call a cab, or I am following you to your car and calling the police for driving under the influence.”

Customer: “I’m not drunk!”

Me: “You literally just took a s*** at the bar!”

Customer: “So?”

Me: “So, get the f*** out and don’t come back!”

We end up calling her a cab and kicking her out. We make the shift manager clean it up. We claim it is (and it really probably is) a hazardous clean-up situation, and the staff is not hazmat trained.

The shift manager is commenting after coming back from putting the cleaning supplies away.

Shift Manager: “How did she not pee at the same time? That’s what’s really strange.”

Me: “That’s what strange to you?!”

Back many years ago when I was not old, I was a stay-at-home mom. I occasionally worked for my uncle at one of his bars/restaurants when he needed some extra help.

I was filling in as a waitress at a downtown establishment on Saint Patrick’s Day. It was located close to the courthouse, so it was frequented by local officials and quite a few attorneys. It was around noon, and one table of gentlemen had already been celebrating their Irish heritage for a while when I started serving them.

One particular patron was inappropriate from the beginning, both verbally and physically. He thought he was hilarious and irresistible. Remember, this was long before “Me Too” and we just ignored idiots up to a point.

After about forty minutes of this banter, a member of his party who knew my family told him to knock it off because I was [Uncle]’s niece. Immediately, this drunken attorney became my apologetic shadow. He followed me around telling me he was sorry and begging me to not tell [Uncle].

I finally put down my tray and responded within earshot of his colleagues.

Me: “Your behavior isn’t wrong only because you know my family. Every woman in the service industry has a family. Just because you aren’t acquainted with them, it does not mean they have to put up with your harassment!”

He grabbed his coat and left, red-faced, after leaving a decent tip.