(I’m at my friend’s bachelorette party, and we’ve headed out for drinks after a day at the spa. We are having a blast, dancing, and drinking. We have all our drinks on one tab. We go to pay up.)

Bartender: “All right, here’s your total. We comped the strawberry lemonades for the two designated drivers, just so you know.”

Club-Goer: *standing nearby* “Wait. They got comped drinks? Why?”

(He is horribly intoxicated, slurring his words, struggling to stay on his feet.)

Bartender: “We always comp the non-alcoholic drinks for the designated drivers to thank them for making good decisions.”

Club-Goer: “I want comped drinks! I make good decisions!”

Bartender: “I’m sure you do, but you’re not a designated driver.”

Club-Goer: “I’m driving myself!”

(As he says this, he hurtles across the floor, pulling his keys out to demonstrate and dropping them on the floor. As he struggles to regain his balance, one of the bouncers picks them up for him and sticks them in his own pocket.)

Bouncer: “Yeah, no. You’re not making that decision. We’re cutting you off and you’re taking a cab home tonight.”

(We added to their tip as a thank-you for keeping the streets safer.)

(I work in a convenience store that sells pop, cigarettes, and basic automotive supplies — washer fluid, oil, etc. — but not beer. This takes place about 30 minutes to midnight on New Year’s Eve.)

Customer: “Where’s your beer?”

Me: “We… don’t sell beer?”

Customer: “Just tell me where it is; I’ll find it.”

Me: “We don’t sell beer here, sir.”

Customer: “All gas stations sell beer! You just don’t know where it is.”

Me: “Sir, not all gas stations sell beer, because some don’t sell anything besides gas. Last I checked, gas isn’t beer.”

Customer: “Just give me one; then. You have to have some in the back, right?”

Me: “Sir, I assure you, if I had any beer in the back, I would’ve been fired for drinking on the job. We don’t sell beer here. Go to the store literally 30 seconds down the road.”

Customer: “You know you have beer!”

(He was never really mad, but he left after that. I was glad to see him go. His girlfriend screamed at him as they drove away, though.)

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(My boyfriend and I both really want a dog, but between our crazy work hours, we just wouldn’t be able to take care of one. We’re at my parents’ house for a party, and although [Boyfriend] is usually good at pacing himself, tonight, he gets very drunk, and proceeds to spend the next hour petting my parents’ dog — who is loving the attention — and telling her what a good girl she is. I’m helping my parents clean up when I hear him actually singing to the dog! The next day on the drive home, we’re talking about it.)

Boyfriend: “Oh, God, I can’t believe I got that drunk. Did I do anything too embarrassing?”

Me: *laughing* “Define, ‘too embarrassing.’”

Boyfriend: “Oh, God, what did I do?!”

Me: “Nothing bad. You just got really happy and goofy, and you were petting the dog and telling her how awesome she is. You did start singing to her towards the end of the night, though.”

Boyfriend: “Oh, no. I can’t believe I did that in front of your parents!”

Me: “Don’t worry; they don’t care. After you fell asleep, they both had stories about getting drunk and acting stupid in front of each other’s families. They’re definitely not about to hold it against you.”

Boyfriend: “You sure? I still feel bad.”

Me: “I’m very sure. Although…” *laughing* “You never sing to me! Or tell me how pretty and awesome I am! I’m a little jealous of the dog.”

Boyfriend: *guilty* “Of course, I love you more than the dog. But… I live with you. I see you every day. I don’t get to see dogs every day; when I do, it’s an occasion!”

(I couldn’t argue the logic!)

This story is part of our Valentine’s Day 2023 roundup!

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(I am working at a local chain grocery store well known in the Midwest. I am working as a cashier when two gentlemen walk up with a huge bottle of alcohol. I greet them and ring up the bottle, when I get a screen asking for a date of birth to be entered in, which always happens when ringing up alcohol or cigarettes.)

Me: “May I see an ID, please?”

Customer #1: “Uh… I left it at home.”

Me: “Well, in order for me to sell you this alcohol I need to see an ID.”

Customer #1: “I forgot it… Could you just let this one slide?”

(I know that if I sell alcohol to underage people I will immediately lose my job.)

Me: “Sir, I’m sorry. I can’t do that, otherwise I would lose my job.”

Customer #1: *sighs* “Okay.” *he then proceeds to reach into his coat and hand me his ID even though he told me he had forgotten it*

(I finish ringing up his alcohol which was approximately $80, and he ended up being 22 years old. I’m still dumb-founded by this encounter today, and it was three years ago.)

(I work in a traditional pub in a tourist and university town. It is nearly closing time on a Friday night and everyone in the bar, other than my colleague and me, is very drunk.)

Customer: “I’ll have half a pint of cider, a rum and coke, a house vodka and lemonade, and an [Expensive Vodka] and Coke.”

Me: “Sure!”

(I pour the drinks and hand them to him. We do not have enough [Expensive Vodka] left in the bottle for a full measure, but since it is almost enough, and I know the man to be a local who works at a pub down the road, I pour him the drink, anyway, and don’t charge him for it.)

Me: “That’ll be £8.80—”

Customer: “What?! You can shove that price right up your a***!”

(I am quite taken aback; though visiting customers sometimes complain about the price, they are never this rude, and the prices in the bar where the customer works are significantly higher than ours. Struggling to keep my temper, I look him dead in the eyes.)

Me: “Well, that’s a shame, since your actual bill would have been a lot higher had I not knocked the price of [Expensive Vodka] off your bill…”

(He paid silently and shuffled away with his drinks.)