(I work in a city centre bar, and this takes places on a busy Saturday night. Three Irish guys have ordered a round, and all the card machines stop working whilst one of them is trying to pay.)

Me: “I’m really sorry, but none of the card machines are working. Have you got any cash to pay with?”

(All of them shake their heads no.)

Customer #1: “So there’s something wrong with my card?”

Me: “No, it’s something on our end. None of the machines are working at the moment. Sorry. Let me just go grab my manager to see what I should do.”

(I run into the back to speak to my manager, who tells me to let them have the drinks for free because the fault is on our end. I go tell them this, and carry on serving other people. A few minutes later they attract my attention.)

Customer #2: “Hi, can we have three gin and tonics, please?”

Me: *slightly confused* “Our card machines still aren’t working, sorry, so, if you haven’t got any cash…”

Customer #2: ”I’ve got cash.”

Me: *more confused* “You’ve got cash?”

Customer #2: “Yeah.”

Customer #3: “Why don’t you believe him?”

(In my head: because you said none of you had cash fifteen minutes ago.)

Me: “Oh, I just have to check because the card machines are down. So that’s three double gin and tonics, yeah?”

(I make their drinks, give them to them, then ring it up on the till.)

Me: “That’ll be [amount], please.”

([Customer #2] hands me a note, and when I look I see that it’s a Euro note — currency used in Southern Ireland and some other countries in Europe, but not in the UK. Thinking it’s a genuine mistake I go to give it back to them.)

Me: “Sorry, it looks like you’ve accidentally given me Euros.”

Customer #2: “So?”

Me: “Well, we can’t accept Euros as a method of payment.”

Customer #2: “Yes, you can. You have to.”

Me: “Sorry, but I don’t. We can’t accept Euros.”

Customer #2: “Yeah, but we’re Irish.”

Me: *speechless for a second* “But we’re not. We cannot accept Euros. You need to pay me in pounds.”

Customer #2: “But we’re Irish!”

Me: “That doesn’t make any difference. We can’t accept Euros.”

Customer #2: “But this is the only cash I’ve got!”

(I stare at them for a second, and then ask for their drinks back since they can’t pay for them. The worst part was that they seemed genuinely confused that I couldn’t accept foreign currency. I went in the back and sat down for five minutes after that.)

My friend and I were in New Orleans for Mardi Gras. We are both New Zealanders. We met up with my American cousin and we were having a few drinks. We went to a different bar, and my friend and cousin went to order.

Shortly afterwards, my cousin came back to me saying I needed to go help at the bar. I went up and saw that the bartender had my friend’s passport and was arguing with her. Turns out the bartender thought it was fake, and was yelling at my friend about how our country isn’t real. I stepped in, showed her my passport, and got the same response. We Googled New Zealand on our phones and showed her, but she still refused to believe that our passports were legit or that New Zealand exists.

We decided to go elsewhere and the bartender wouldn’t give the passport back, still going on about how it was fake. I leaned over and wrenched it off her and ran out before she could call any security. Who knows? The security might never have seen a world map, either!

(I’m on vacation with my grandparents. My grandpa and I are having a drink with my uncle and his girlfriend who are staying for a few days at the house we’re staying in. We are talking about how I’ve been doing graphic design commissions the past few months. My grandpa asks my uncle if he has any tips for me since he is an established artist, known for putting popular people in pink clothing in his paintings.)

Grandpa: “Do you have any advice for him to get himself out there at all?”

Uncle: *to me* “You said you were advertising on Twitter and stuff, right?”

Me: “Yeah.”

Uncle: *to my grandpa, chuckling* “Yeah, I got nothing. He’s actually already doing more than me.”

(I am a female in my early twenties, waiting tables in a bar, and as such am fairly used to customers drunkenly attempting to flirt with staff. I am waiting on a table of three — a couple and a single man. The meal is going fairly smoothly, besides the fact that I have several times caught the single man obviously checking me out. As I drop off the check, the woman at the table decides to make a move.)

Woman: “Are you single? My husband and I are always looking for people to go on double dates with us, and my brother-in-law here thinks you’re really cute.”

Me: “Sorry, ma’am, but I’m actually not single.”

Woman: “But I don’t see a ring on your finger!”

Me: “Well, I’m not married, but my boyfriend and I have been together about six months.”

Woman: “Oh, well, in that case, we’ll just come back in a few months and try again!”

Me: “…”

(I have my own personal Cheers-type bar that I’ve been going to for so long that my friends and I know everyone from the bouncer to the owners, and almost everyone in between. My girl friends and I love going there because they have great drinks and a great atmosphere, and we know we’ll be safe. We’re having a Girls’ Night Out one night, all of us sitting in a horseshoe-shaped booth with me at one end and the rest of my friends scrunched in close so we can hear each other better, when some guy saunters up, drags a chair over from another table, spins it, and straddles it next to me.)

Guy: *grinning* “Heeeeyyyy, ladies.”

(My girlfriends tend to be a bit more shy, my best friend having social anxiety, so they look to me.)

Me: *smiling, trying to be polite* “Hey, we’re kind of having a girls’ night here and, ah, sorry but you don’t qualify, so if you could give us some space, please?”

Guy: *still grinning* “Nah, it’s fine. I’ll stick around.”

Me: *now annoyed and letting him see it* “It’s actually not fine, because I’ve asked you to leave and you’re still here.”

Guy: *STILL with that stupid grin* “Nah, nah, it’s fine. You don’t want me to leave.”

Me: *glaring, voice hard* “Yes, we do, now f*** off.”

Guy: “Nah, you don’t want me to leave.”

(My friends are all nervous and I’m pissed, but this creep is effectively blocking me into the booth. Fortunately, I have the bouncer’s phone number, so I shoot him a quick text letting him know there’s a situation. From where we’re sitting I can see him at the door, and I watch him check his phone and look around for me. When I catch his eye, he points at the guy, who’s still blathering on about who knows what, and I nod. The bouncer pockets his phone and walks over. I should note that the bouncer is rather large, broad-shouldered, and kind of looks like a pirate with his impressive goatee, multiple piercings, and intricate tattoos. He’ll never start a fight, but he will ALWAYS end one. He walks up behind the guy and casually places one very large hand on his shoulder and leans on it. The guy immediately goes silent and stares up at him.)

Bouncer: *very calm* “I believe these ladies asked you to leave. You were just about to, weren’t you?”

Guy: *nervous and squeaking a little* “Yes.”

Bouncer: *still calm* “And you’re going to leave them alone?” *the guy just nods quickly* “Good. Then we don’t have a problem.”

(The bouncer slowly leans back with a smile and the guy scurries off.)

Bouncer: “You okay, girls? He didn’t lay a hand on any of you, or get near your drinks?”

(We assure him that we’re fine and thank him for his assistance.)

Bouncer: “All right, well, you let me know if he or anyone else gives you any trouble, okay? Enjoy your night.”

(He gave me a hug and went back to the door, and my friends and I enjoyed our girls’ night in peace. I love that bar!)