I am shopping in a supermarket. Although a chain, this is a smaller version, replacing the old mom-and-pop store.

A customer before me is ranting about an ad they’ve noticed but the product is not in store. Two of the employees are explaining that the store, due to its size, has only a limited product range and it’s possible that a product in a nationwide, billboard-sized ad is not in store. She keeps ranting all through the rest of the checkout. The other employee steps out of the discussion in order to serve me.

I make sure my voice does not carry any threatening or aggressive inflection whatsoever.

Me: “Yeah, it is a real disgrace that such a small store does not carry the full product range.”

Employee: *Sighs* “Yes, ma’am. I think so, too.”

The other customer throws me an angry look but tones down the rant a bit.

Employee: “Wait, that was sarcastic, wasn’t it?”

Me: “Absolutely. I’m happy you are here and I accept that sometimes, you won’t carry the product I was looking for.”

The employee smiled brightly while the other customer pushed by me. I did the only thing you really can do in such situations and flashed her a bright smile.

This happens nearly forty years ago. My grandparents are hosting a family affair and they just returned from a voyage. At one point, my grandmother harrumphs.

Mom: “Something wrong?”

Grandmother: “I just think it is impolite not to say thank you if you receive something, even if it is just a postcard.” 

Mom: *Confused* “What postcard?”

Grandmother: “The nice postcard we sent from France.”

Mom: “I am sorry, we didn’t get a postcard, or I would have mentioned it.”

Grandmother: “Well, we cared enough to send a card, and the least you can do is to say thanks.”

Mom: “I am sorry, but no card was received.”

My grandmother does not believe her and makes a really big deal out of it. Fast forward six months, and what does Mom retrieve from the letterbox? You guessed it in one: a postcard from France signed by my grandparents. My mom immediately calls my grandmother.

Mom: “I just called to say thanks for the postcard.”

Grandmother: “Which postcard?”

Mom: “The one you send from France.”

Grandmother: “But that was six months ago.”

Mom: “I know, but the card arrived today and I know how much you value a response.”

Grandmother: “But that was six months ago.”

She still didn’t believe my mom.

It is New Year’s Eve and my parents are doing some last-minute shopping. A discount store is having a special on oysters, selling them for roughly half the price of the shop where my parents are. In order to shift stock, they immediately reduce the — fresh — oysters. As my dad loves oysters, he is treating himself to a double portion; however, a lady customer is not having it. 

She creates a fuss and demands fresh oysters — the sticker reducing them in price is the same as they use for last-date products. The employee explains that the oysters arrived that morning, and that they are absolutely fresh but just discounted in order to move them due to the competitor’s low prices.

The lady is having none of it, calling them liars and demanding fresh stock. Exasperated, the employee goes in the back, grabs a pack that hasn’t been stickered yet, and hands it to the lady. She smugly and victoriously goes her way.

My dad enjoyed his oysters.

I am serving tables as a seventeen-year-old student in a quite nice restaurant in Belgium. I am a white male with blonde hair and blue eyes. On a rather calm evening, a man, wife, and son sit down at a table. Passing by, I notice that they are Latino because of the Spanish accent they speak with and the Chilean flag tattooed on the man’s arm.

Because my family is quite linguistic and kind of multicultural, I am near-fluent in Spanish, as well as a couple of other languages. While I’m serving the table in my native language, the man starts a video call with family in Chile. At one point, the d*****bag tells this family member, in Spanish:

Man: “I’ll get this idiotic-looking waiter. He’s sucked at everything he has been doing all night.”

I get that I sometimes make mistakes, but I’ve done nothing of the kind this evening.

The man evidently thought I wouldn’t understand him speaking in Spanish. So, when I bring him and his family dessert, I say:

Me: “Buen provecho, disfrúten su postre.” Bon appetit, enjoy your dessert.

Then, I smiled sarcastically and left. The s***bag didn’t know what came over him. He hung up pretty quickly after that. His wife didn’t seem to happy with the situation and made it pretty clear to her husband. The son just seemed confused. They didn’t leave a tip.

I’m working at a call center for a car-sharing company. Customers pick up and return cars to certain reserved parking spots, which occasionally get taken by other cars. The ensuing phone conversation happens at least once a day.

Customer: “There’s someone in my parking spot!”

Me: “Okay. In that case, you’ll have to find a different spot to park the car; just let us know where it is so we can call the next customer and inform them.”

Customer: “How do I let you know?”

Me: “Call us back?”

How else, by carrier pigeon?