In the beginning of summer, my entire family likes to spend a week at the beach. We’ve been doing this since I was a child and there’s a particular restaurant that we love to eat at as it always has good food and good service, and it’s only a few minutes walk from where we stay. On this fateful night, my husband and I are having dinner with my parents. We’re seated at a table, and after a minute or so, our waitress arrives.

Waitress: “Hi, guys! Welcome to [Restaurant]. My name is [Waitress] and I’ll be your server this evening.”

Me: “Hi, [Waitress], how’re you doing?”

Waitress: “I’m all right. I’m sorry if there’s a bit of a delay in your food; we’re a little busy tonight and this is my second night on the job, so I’m still figuring things out.”

My family is very friendly and understanding, so we assure her that’s fine and it seems to put her at ease. We order drinks. My mom and I typically don’t order alcoholic drinks as we don’t like the taste, but we’ve eaten at this restaurant several times and both like their strawberry daiquiris, so we order those.

Waitress: “All right, can I see everyone’s IDs, please?”

Everyone hands over their IDs, except for Mom, who typically leaves her purse in her car and forgot to grab it before we walked to the restaurant.

Mom: “I’m so sorry. I think I left my wallet at home.”

Waitress: *Suddenly very anxious* “Ma’am, I can’t serve you alcohol without seeing your ID.”

Mom: “That’s fine. I’ll just go with a lemonade, then.”

The waitress leaves to get the drinks, and when she returns, we place our food orders. By the time the food is brought out, we’ve finished our drinks and Dad orders a mango daiquiri for himself, which Mom asks to try when it arrives.

Waitress: “Ma’am, I can’t serve you alcohol without seeing your ID.”

Mom: “I know, I’m happy with my lemonade. I’m just going to have a sip from his; I don’t need my own.”

Waitress: “I’m going to need to see your ID.”

Dad: *Firm but respectful* “The mango daiquiri isn’t for her; it’s for me.”

The waitress dithers for a few moments, then leaves. We discuss quietly how it’s a little silly that Mom can’t drink but her daughter can. But we know that serving alcohol to underaged guests is illegal and figure that, since it’s her second night working and the place is pretty busy, she’s just feeling stressed and trying to not mess up, so we brush it off.

At this point, I have finished my daiquiri and set the empty glass aside, about midway between myself and Mom, and I have begun working on my water when a man approaches. He’s wearing a staff uniform with a badge that identifies him as the manager, and he stops at our table. He’s narrowed his eyes at me and addresses me with an accusatory tone.

Manager: “Ma’am, your waitress is unable to serve you alcohol without seeing your ID, and if you continue to harass her, then I’m going to be forced to ask you to leave.”

It’s clear that he thinks I’m underaged and trying to pull something. I immediately suspect the waitress was flustered and did not communicate the situation clearly to her manager, but I’m too shocked to respond. Both Dad and my husband jump to my defense, and all three men begin to argue quietly while Mom and I sit there uncomfortably.

Eventually, the manager, unwilling to budget and unable to be convinced that this is a misunderstanding, curtly informs us that he’ll be sending the bartender out to deal with us and that there will be absolutely no alcohol provided to anyone at the table without ID. My husband and my dad are both fuming, and I’m very uncomfortable and worried that the manager might try to remove me from the restaurant. Mom is upset by the conflict and decides that the easiest way to resolve the issue is to go get her ID, so she walks the ten minutes home — by herself, at night — and back. 

While she’s gone, the bartender arrives. He’s significantly more pleasant and recognizes Dad from his and Mom’s visit the night before. We calmly explain the situation, apologizing for making the waitress uncomfortable and expressing our offense at the manager’s aggressive, misinformed accusations. The bartender sympathizes and informs us that the manager is a rather unpleasant individual to begin with and that he figured that this was likely a misunderstanding from the get-go.

About this time, Mom returns with her ID and the bartender brings her a daiquiri as an apology, chatting with us a little bit before heading back inside. We don’t see that waitress for the rest of the night, but we do spy the manager shooting us nasty looks until we leave.

We decided to eat elsewhere for the rest of the week, the experience having put a sour taste in our mouths. Honestly, if it hadn’t been for the bartender, we probably would’ve just left money on the table for what food and drinks we received and walked out.

I’m a server at a popular restaurant in a college town. On the weekends, we have $15 bottomless mimosas. Today, we were pretty busy with a big brunch crowd, and it felt like almost all of my tables ordered bottomless mimosas. They got at least ten refills each, and toward the end of my shift, when I only had about three tables, I was still running back and forth frantically trying to keep up with their drinks. The bartenders were pissed at me. We ran out of orange juice and almost ran out of champagne, so I was giving them grapefruit and pineapple juice mimosas.

I had one table of girls that had to have had at least five bottles of champagne between the three of them and they didn’t even seem drunk. They ended up camping there and I had to stay an hour and a half past my shift just serving them drinks. I finally gave them their checks.

Me: “Totally no rush. You guys can keep ordering after you pay.”

When a server tells you this, they definitely want you to leave.

Twenty minutes later, they still hadn’t taken their cards out.

Me: “Hey, do you mind if I check you guys out? My shift was supposed to end an hour and a half ago.”

They were apologetic about it, and I felt bad, but I have homework to do! But I kind of just said f*** it because I got a hunch that they were going to be terrible tippers anyway. But they tipped me 20% each, and one tipped me almost 40%, so that was a nice little surprise!

I came back an hour later to get myself some food and they were STILL there, having other servers get them mimosas.

Most of the guests at our hotel are businessmen. The guys from this particular company have been staying at our hotel for a while, and I get along very well with a few of them.

One evening, probably around five, after my managers have left, three guys from that company come down and ask to buy beers and snacks. I sell the first two guys their beers and snacks no problem. I can’t remember exactly what the third guy says, but it makes me mad, and I can tell he is already drunk, so I refuse to sell him alcohol. In the state I live in, it’s illegal to sell alcohol to intoxicated people, so I use that as my excuse. He does not like this.

Guest: “You racist b****!”

Then he starts yelling at me.

Me: “Please go back to your room.”

But he isn’t leaving. Luckily, his two coworkers are still there and take him out of the lobby. He goes back to his room and it is over, or so I think.

I get a call from his manager, who I know, asking what happened. I guess one of his coworkers called and told him about the incident. I explain what happened.

Me: “[Guest] will not be allowed in the lobby if he’s going to be drunk and disrespectful.”

Manager: “I’m very sorry for his behavior. I’ll get him on a new assignment, and he’ll be leaving later this week. If anything else happens, call me.”

Me: “All right, sounds good to me.”

About thirty minutes later, the guest comes back down, yelling at me about how his manager called him and is making him leave. He then pulls out his phone and starts to record me on Facebook Live.

Guest: “This employee won’t sell me alcohol because she’s a racist b****!”

He then goes into the shop and, on video, steals beer from the cooler.

Guest: “I’m going to get you fired!”

And he starts screaming at me again. Unfortunately, his coworkers aren’t in the lobby, so all I can do is tell him to go back to his room, which he eventually does.

I look up the guests’ reservations and call the number on file for the manager I talked to earlier to tell him what happened. I get a voicemail for who I think is his other manager; I know him, as well. I leave a voicemail explaining what happened, and he calls me back almost immediately. I find out that he’s actually the manager of the company.

Owner: “I’m sorry. Since it’s late, I can’t get him a flight to leave tonight, but he has a flight out of here first thing in the morning.”

A few days went by, and I got a phone call, and it was from the Human Resources team of their company. I explained the situation and they apologized. I then got a call from their risk management team, and they apologized. The next time I was at work, all of the managers, owner, and employees came and apologized. The guy got fired, and every person in the company had to have harassment and sexual harassment class.

The company I work for has a policy of checking the IDs of all people in a group if they shop together and buy alcohol. In my experience, that’s a pretty common practice. Unfortunately, quite often, those who don’t have their ID will ask if they can just step outside. The answer is still no, because we know they’re shopping together.

Two women in their early to mid-twenties come in together. My coworker and I see them shopping together, including going to the liquor aisle together. I have a strong feeling that one of them is underage, so I make sure my coworker checks both women’s IDs when ringing them up.

Eventually, I get called to the front. One of the girls is at the register and is visibly livid. As I suspected, the other girl does not have an ID. The sale was denied, and the girl at the register is furious that we won’t sell the liquor, even with her friend outside in the car. She throws a fit, demanding corporate’s number and my name to file a complaint.

While this is going on, a woman lines up behind them. I guess here I should point out that my coworker, this woman, and I are all white; the two women purchasing the alcohol are black. Despite hearing me explain to the first girl why the sale was denied, the other woman demands to know why the sale is denied. She clearly thinks we are being racist even though she doesn’t know about the other girl.

We never hear from the first two, but this woman goes to Twitter to express her rage at this racial injustice. Luckily, the security cameras show the entire scenario, and we see [Girl #2] handing [Girl #1] money to buy said alcohol. Case closed!

I’m checking wristbands at a music festival when a very drunk man comes to the door.

Me: “Sir, can I see your wristband?”

He tries to show me the stamp from a nearby bar.

Me: “Sorry, sir, you need a wristband to get in here.”

Drunk: “I’m upstairs with the band.”

Me: “There is no upstairs here.”

Drunk: “Oh, I should find out where I need to be.”

Me: “You do that, sir.”

Never saw him again.