I’m a bartender in a restaurant. A guy came in and immediately ordered a 300-dollar bottle of wine. I started presenting it.

Customer: “I’m easy; you don’t have to do all of that.”

Then, he ordered $250 worth of food.

Customer: “Don’t course it out; just let it come whenever. I don’t care.”

Then, in an hour, this person ate about ten different menu items and two bottles of top-shelf wine. He poured the wine himself, and he stacked the dishes he was done with, making it as easy as possible for me.

The bill was around $700. He just dropped $2,000 worth of 100-dollar bills and strutted out the door.

Il still in shock at what happened. I’ve never made anywhere close to a tip like that. Is this normal in fine-dining restaurants?

My aunt could have danced circles around the guys in this story.

My parents needed a new front door, but my dad couldn’t install it himself as he’d just had surgery. My brother, a carpenter by trade, took them to a hardware store to pick out a new front door.

The day [Brother] arrived to install the door, my dad’s sister showed up for a visit. [Brother] was going to call our cousin next door to help him, but Auntie offered to do it for him. She was not a tall woman by any measure, but she was incredibly strong for her size. She picked that solid oak door up by herself and held it in place while [Brother] installed the hinges.

[Brother] estimated that the door weighed close to a hundred pounds, and he’d struggled to get it into the house.

After the door was installed, my dad hobbled over on his walker.

Dad: “That looks pretty good.”

He was still nodding his head when he noticed the peephole.

Dad: “Why the h*** is that way down in the middle of the door?”

Mom put her hands on her hips. Dad then saw that [Brother] had installed it at Mom’s eye level.

Dad: *Suppressing a laugh* “Oh…”

Related:
When One Door Closes, Another One… Gets Totally Messed Up

I work in a video game store that does trades. A young boy, maybe around twelve or so, comes in with a stack of old games.

Boy: “How much can I get for these? I’m trying to get the new Mario game.”

Me: “Well, the Pokémon game here might get you something, but all these others I can only give a few cents for. If you had the boxes, I might be able to offer more.”

Boy: “Oh… I see. Thank you for your time.”

The boy politely stacks up his games and is about to leave when an older gentleman, maybe late sixties at a guess, comes rushing over.

Old Man: *Excitedly* “Is that Pokémon HeartGold?

Boy: “Uh… yeah.”

Old Man: “Excellent! I have SoulSilver! I needed that to pair with it!”

Boy: “Is it for your grandson?”

Old Man: *Mock-offended* “No, my young friend! It’s for me!“

Boy: “You play Pokémon?!”

Old Man: “Since 1996!”

Boy: “Whoooooa! But… you didn’t stop when you got… old?”

Old Man: “Let me give you some advice that has served me well. You don’t stop playing because you get old; you get old because you stop playing.”

Boy: “Whoooooa!”

Old Man: “Play forever, young man!” *To me* “How much is the Mario game he wants?”

Me: “It’s $59.99.”

Old Man: *To the boy* “I’ll give you sixty for the game.”

The old man handed over the cash (after I had tested that the game worked), and the boy excitedly got his new game. I will never forget that man’s amazing advice, from one generation of gamer to another.

About twenty years ago, I was in a small middle school — I’d say 400 students. Those in charge decided to donate to an environmental charity and made it into a game for the students. One class per grade got to go on a field trip if their class brought in the most cans for recycling. There was only one rule: no deliberate wastage of content.

I had quite a massive advantage with this. As luck would have it, my grandfather was a restaurant owner, and their main source of drinks was out of cans. Another bit of luck: my cousin had a wedding with hundreds of guests, with plenty of canned beverages. Not to mention lots of older relatives who just simply liked to party. So, word got around, and we gathered up the cans.

All in all, I brought in around 9,000 cans. My class even had to get permission to use the spare storage room for all those extra cans. I alone outperformed every single other class combined. Without me, the average number of cans per person was only fifteen, I think, during a two-week period. The person who brought the second most number of cans had around 200.

That was fun and very memorable.

I work in a museum with a large and famous dinosaur exhibit. I see a father walking around it with his son who can’t be much older than eight or nine years old.

This boy is wearing a T-Rex cap and an Iguanodon T-shirt and is even sporting a “Jurassic Park” belt buckle. He is carrying a pocket guidebook about dinosaurs. He is, without a doubt, a dino kid.

They approach a part of the exhibit where we have a representation of what a dinosaur nest may have looked like, along with an animatronic of an egg hatching.

Dad: “How did they know they laid eggs?”

Kid: “Because they’ve found fossilized eggs, Dad.”

Dad: “Actually, that can’t be true; only bones get turned into fossils, and—”

Kid: “Are you seriously dino-splaining to me?”

It took a lot of effort to remain professional and not burst out laughing!