When I worked at a nearby restaurant, it would attract quite the crowd. The food was amazing and we had a band that played almost every night. It was also right next to a really nice country club and would attract a lot of their residents.

One night, we were absolutely slammed. I had a total of probably twelve tables at once and it was just a mess. Everyone was pretty understanding and could see we were understaffed, except for this party of four I had. They were rich, rude, and just downright degrading.

I was doing the best I could, considering how busy we were, and the one woman was just not having it. She absolutely flipped out on me.

Woman: “You suck at your job! You’re not cut out to be a server. You should be fired, and you should be ashamed of how horrible your performance is! You’re the worst server ever!”

She just kept going on and on. I don’t usually let people get to me, especially this entitled jerk, but it happened; I broke down and started crying from the stress of how busy it was and her degrading me.

I took five, went to the bathroom, composed myself, and went back out to finish waiting on them.

Their attitude had completely changed; everyone at the table apologized to me profusely, even the woman who screamed at me. Apparently, another table nearby (who I wasn’t even waiting on) heard what the lady was saying and went up to the table and ripped them a new one, told them it was disgusting the way she was speaking to me, and basically called the table out on being horrible people.

And after all that, as I was talking to them, the guy from the other table came up to me (in front of the rude table) and said, “No one should ever be treated like that.” He gave me a hug and handed me 100$. I tried to refuse to take it, but the guy insisted on it and wouldn’t take it back.

It almost brought me to tears again. It was a very emotional shift.

I am a new worker at a very large clothing store, being taught by a floor manager how the men’s changing rooms work. One coworker comes over to us, looking annoyed.

Coworker: “Code brown in changing room four.”

Floor Manager: “Does it need attention right now or is it going to start bothering other customers even if it’s closed off?”

Coworker: “Let’s just say the situation is… fluid.”

Floor Manager: “Typical. Okay, I’ll go over and deal with it. Please finish onboarding [My Name].”

The floor manager angrily stalks off. I can’t wait any more and have to ask:

Me: “Code brown is—”

Coworker: “—someone taking a dump in the changing room, yes.”

Me: “That happens often enough it needs its own code?”

Coworker: “Oh, my sweet summer child. That’s just one code. Code yellow is pee. Code green is vomit. Code white is… well, something that you only deal with in the men’s changing rooms.”

Me: *Eyes wide* “Oh…”

Coworker: “Oh, that’s nothing. The poor girls in the women’s changing room are always getting code reds!”

Related:
Welcome To Retail, Part 5
Welcome To Retail, Part 4
Welcome To Retail, Part 3
Welcome To Retail, Part 2

I was a kitchen manager at an upmarket restaurant in New Jersey. An employee told me to “f*** off” three times, so I sent him home.

The next day, the general manager brought the two of us together in a meeting.

General Manager: “I need you to apologize and shake [Employee]’s hand. He says he’s uncomfortable working around you.”

I had to apologize! Not the employee!

I gave notice, and my last day was February twelfth, right before Valentine’s Day! Good luck handling the holiday rush!

I see a sign inside a Tokyo restaurant:

Sign: “Do not touch our waitresses, ask for their contact information, or wait for them outside. This restaurant will not be responsible for any injuries happening to anyone who ignores this warning.”

Duly noted, yikes!

CONTENT WARNING: Death

About ten years ago my grandfather passed away suddenly from a heart attack. I received the phone call as I got into my car to leave for work. I was completely blindsided by the news. In hindsight, I should’ve called out and not worked my shift, but being a teenager in a very poor family, I decided to tough it out to keep my younger siblings fed.

Less than an hour into my shift, a man came to the window to purchase gas. Our intercom wasn’t the best, so if the customer didn’t speak up, it made them difficult to understand. Without giving me the chance to even greet him, he threw a twenty-dollar bill in the tray and turned to walk away. As he turned away to walk to his truck, he said:

Customer: “Twenty dollars on pump [unintelligible].”

Not wanting to put his money on the wrong pump, I left the register and jogged out in the direction he walked to confirm which pump he was parked at. When I found him, he was already trying to pump his gas, and was becoming frustrated.

Customer: “Why isn’t this f****** thing working?”

Me: “Sorry, I didn’t hear which pump you were at when you paid, so I came out to see where you were parked.”

Customer: “Were you not paying attention? I told you I was on nine. Can you not f****** handle a minimum wage job that a monkey could do? Wake the f*** up!”

I was completely caught off guard by his hostility, and all I could think to do was apologize.

Me: “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cause a problem for you. My grandpa just died, and I’m having a hard time processing it.”

Customer: “Grow up, man. People die every day. If you can’t handle someone dying, you might as well off yourself now, cause things aren’t going to get any easier for you. Now do your dumb f****** job and fix my f****** pump.”

I didn’t respond to his rant and just went back to the register.

While putting his money on the correct pump, I saw the man walking in circles, gesturing wildly, and talking on his phone. I couldn’t hear what was said, but after about thirty seconds the man stomped back to his truck and peeled out of the parking lot, completely forgetting about the money he left behind.

Rather than have an overage in my drawer, I sat the twenty-dollar bill to the side and hoped he wouldn’t return to look for it. About an hour from closing I decided to add the twenty to the pump of the next customer that I thought might really need it. It was risky, but after what had transpired earlier, I didn’t care.

About ten minutes to closing, a mother and several kids in a beat-up car pulled up to the pump closest to my window. Through the car’s side window, I could see that her and the kids were counting change, and I decided that they would be today’s lucky winners. After a few minutes, one of the kids came to the window with a dejected look and asked for $2.71 on their pump. I told the kid that I would take care of it, and to tell the mother to pump $22.71. The mother came to the window to ask what was going on, and I told her that it was just my way of doing something nice and that all I wanted in return was for her to pay it forward. She thanked me profusely and pumped the gas.

The man never did come back, and while that day may have been one of the worst days of my life, I did my best to make it a great day for someone else.