(We’re a tapas bar, so lots of small portions. We usually recommend two-three per person. Tonight, we’ve got a lot of bookings but can sometimes fit people in for limited slots of time. Two customers come in without a reservation, and it’s around 6:30 pm.)

Me: “Well, I can fit you in now, but I’m afraid we’ll need the table back by 7:30.”

Customer #1: “That’s loooads of time. We’re only getting something light.”

Me: “Okay, here you go!” *hands over tapas menu*

(A few minutes later, I approach for drinks.)

Customer #1: “A bottle of [Wine], please.”

Me: “A bottle… Okay!”

(A few more minutes later.)

Me: “And can I take a food order?”

Customer #2: “Yeah, so I’m like really hungry so I’m going to have like everything.” *laughs maniacally and lists almost everything, about seven items*

Customer #1: “Oh, he is hungry! Okay I’ll just have [five more items].”

Me: “…no problem.”

(Their “something light” turned into me having to squeeze extra chairs onto a tiny table for an actual booking because, of course, these two hadn’t left in time.)

(We’re at one of our weekly team lunches at a pub near our office. By this point, several colleagues have gone back to the office. Two of my workmates are at the far end of the table are talking, and I’m discussing baby names with another one. This colleague is a single mother.)

Me: “On another note, [Colleague], my wife and I will be going for a baby in a few months. Given that you’re a mother, I was wondering if I could ask you for advice—”

(At this point, she starts cracking up laughing, bent double over the table. I’m just able to make out what she says next.)

Colleague: “Advice on making the baby?”

Me: “That’s not what I meant! I should have phrased that better.”

(She nods, still laughing.)

Me: “I meant advice on raising the baby. You didn’t let me finish.”

Colleague: *still laughing* “Of course you can.”

(Once the laughter has subsided, I check that the other two workmates haven’t heard. They hadn’t.)

Me: “Please don’t tell anyone else about this.”

Colleague: *jokingly* “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone who knows you.”

(I’m serving at the bar of a club when a woman orders a soda. I pour the drink and serve it to her.)

Woman: “I want the ice at the bottom of the glass, please.”

Me: “Yes, ma’am, I did put the ice in first.”

Woman: “No, I want it at the bottom of the glass otherwise it hurts my teeth when I drink. ”

(At this point, as the woman has said this with a straight face and appears quite calm. I think she’s joking.)

Me: *laughing* “I can give you a straw, but changing the laws of physics is a bit beyond me I’m afraid.”

(The woman goes a shade of red and starts yelling.)

Woman: “Who the f*** do you think you are to talk to me like that?! Your boss will hear about this; it’s just unacceptable!”

(The woman stormed out and I was left shell-shocked at the bar. Funnily enough, she did complain about my rude and disrespectful service, and after two weeks of meetings with management she got banned.)

(I’m meeting a guy for a date at a bar that has a lot of old arcade games. When he arrives, we end up going into the other room where there is a Star Wars: The Phantom Menace pinball machine.)

Date: “Okay, THAT needs to be burned!”

(I like this guy already.)

(I’m working as a bartender in a university college bar. All the other bartenders are not students, so sometimes customers don’t realize that I am. The student body is holding a theme party in the bar, so it’s very busy, but I spot a particular student is carrying and waving around a steel-headed claw hammer as part of his costume. Fortunately, he came to me to order his drink.)

Student: “I’d like a pint of [Cheap Beer].”

Me: “Sure, I’d be happy to serve you that, but first: could I ask you to either leave that hammer in your room, or hand it over to us to keep behind the bar? It’s a dangerous weapon, and I wouldn’t like anyone to get hurt tonight. You can have it back when the party’s over.”

Student: “What? I can’t take it back to my room! The party’s here!”

Me: “Well, I’m sure you live on site, but if you don’t feel like going back to your room, you can hand it over to me and I’ll take care of it for the rest of the night. Otherwise, I’m going to refuse to serve you and will insist that you leave the bar.”

Student: “Fine, I’ll leave it in my room.”

(He leaves for a few minutes, but I see him again later – with the hammer sticking out of his back pocket. I’m still not happy with him carrying an offensive weapon around the bar surrounded by drunk people, even if he’s no longer actively waving it in people’s faces. He approaches the bar, and I ask my colleagues not to serve him unless he surrenders the hammer. My colleagues repeat this to him, and again, he refuses. I spot a graduate student volunteer responsible for low-level disciplinary action, inform him about the situation, and ask him to speak to the student for me. He comes back.)

Grad Student: “He said he didn’t have a hammer on him.”

Me: “Look, you can see it now; the handle’s sticking out of his back pocket. He was lying to you.”

(The graduate student shrugs and walks off. Taking action into my own hands, I sneak up behind the student and take the hammer from his back pocket.)

Me: “I’m confiscating this.”

Student: “What? Give it back! That’s mine!”

Me: “You were warned on three separate occasions by three members of staff that this was a dangerous weapon and not permitted down in the bar. You refused to leave it in your room or behind the bar where it would be safe. Instead, I’ve seen you waving it around all evening, surrounded by drunk people. Now I’m going to hand it over to [Campus Security], and if you really want it back, you can try explaining to them in the morning what you were doing with a claw hammer in a bar full of drunks.

(The student turned pale and ran off. I don’t know if he ever tried to get the hammer back, but I would’ve loved to have seen that conversation!)