(Despite the fact that I’m small, I can hold my liquor quite well. I’ve had about three pints this evening, and am just ordering my fourth.)

Me: “Another pint of [popular beer], please.”

Bartender: “Sure, that’ll be six dollars.”

(I hand him a 10 dollar bill, and he pours my beer and hands it to me. A minute later, I notice he hasn’t given me my change.)

Me: “Excuse me; I gave you a 10, didn’t I?”

Bartender: “No, you gave me a five. You still owe a dollar.”

Me: “No, I remember giving you a 10. I have only tens and twenties in my wallet. You owe me four dollars in change.”

Bartender: “No, you gave me a five. The beer is six dollars. That’ll be one dollar more.”

Me: “I would like to see your manager, please.”

Bartender: “No! He’s out! One dollar, now!”

(I begin to leave the bar. On the way out, I see the manager, who’s just coming out of the back. I explain the situation to him, and he agrees to talk to his bartender. Turns out, the bartender had been pulling that trick for a year on people he thought would be too drunk to notice, and stealing the extra money. The next time I was at that bar, they had a new bartender.)

Customer: “Can I have a Cranberry Vodka?”

Me: “Sure.”

(I make the drink by pouring the vodka in first and then adding cranberry juice. Pretty simple.)

Customer: “Why did you put all that water in my drink?”

Me: “Water?”

Customer: “Yeah, the clear liquid you poured in the cup.”

Me: “That’s the vodka.”

Customer: “Oh, this is gonna be a long night…”

(I am waitressing at a wedding party being held above a bar in an art gallery. I have popped down to the bar to use their dishwasher. There are lots of contemporary art displays around the bar.)

Customer: “Hi, could I get a pint of Carling?”

Me: “Oh sorry, I don’t actually work here. You’ll have to ask someone else.”

Customer: “But you’re wearing a uniform?”

(My uniform is not even slightly similar to the bar staff’s.)

Me: “Oh, that’s because I’m a waitress; I’m from upstairs.”

Customer: “Oh right, I thought you might be another art display. Okay, bye…”

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(I am an owner of a hookah smoking lounge near a college campus. A group of three underage-looking young people comes in and tries to purchase a smoking session.)

Me: “Okay guys, can I see your IDs?”

Customer #1: “We don’t have IDs. We don’t need ’em!”

Me: “Sorry, but you don’t look over 40, so I have to ask.”

(Customers #2 and #3 pull out their ID cards, and even though they look young, they’re over 18. I let them complete the purchase, but the other customer still refuses to show ID.)

Customer #1: “I’m with them. I’ll use their ID.”

Me: “I’m sorry, it doesn’t work like that. Since you refuse to show me ID, I have to refuse you service. Your friends may stay, since they showed ID. Have a nice day. Please leave.”

(As I have been processing their order, a rush of customers have come in and I think I see Customer #1 leave. As I take an order to another group, I see Customer #1 sitting with his friends. I walk up to them.)

Me: “I thought I told you to leave.”

Customer #1: “What are you going to do, call the police?”

(I pull out a badge out of my pocket, since I am also a reserve deputy sheriff on my days off.)

Me: “No need, I’m already here. Now stand up. We’re going to the back.”

(I didn’t bother with filing charges on him, but I did call his parents who were very angry. In fact, I found out his father was a city police officer himself!)

(I am at a bachelorette party for my future sister-in-law, who also happens to be my best friend. Neither of us is terribly fond of my extremely controlling and vindictive mother. I have been introduced to the other bridesmaids, mostly the bride-to-be’s old friends from college. As her fiancé’s sister, we all have a few drinks and the topic of in-laws come up. The other girls complain about their mothers-in-law, and my friend chimes in with a few truly horrid stories of her own. However, the mood among the other girls begins to grow uncomfortable as they slowly start to realize that the woman she is complaining about is, in fact, my mother.)

Bride-to-be: “I know, right? I can’t believe she said that to me! There was another time she—”

Bridesmaid #1: “Hey, why don’t we talk about something else for a bit, huh?”

Bride-to-be: “Oh. Okay, but why?”

(The bridesmaids look amongst each other awkwardly.)

Bridesmaid #2: *gesturing to me* “Well, I mean, that is her mom you’re talking about.”

(My future sister-in-law and I look at each other for a second, then burst out laughing, much to the surprise of the others.)

Me: “Oh, don’t worry about that. She might be my mom, but I hate that b****.”