Early this afternoon, I was at a fast food place getting lunch with my roommate. I don’t, never have, and never will work at this place.

A woman pushed past us as we were trying to order our meal.

Manager: “Ma’am, I am going to ask you, nicely, to please use the register next to this one, so this couple can order their meal.”

The rude woman looked at us and gave a “harumph” before turning to my roommate and me and going off on a tangent.

Woman: “Shouldn’t you two be behind the counter? You two are wasting your coworkers’ time by ordering food.”

Neither I nor my roommate were wearing anything that could be confused with this place’s uniforms. I was wearing an AC/DC T-shirt and a brand new pair of camouflage pajama bottoms, and my roommate was wearing a “Home of the Brave” T-shirt and a pair of blue jeans.

Roommate: “Excuse me?”

Me: “Do we look like we are wearing [Fast Food Place] uniforms?”

Woman: “I don’t care. Get back there and help your coworkers. You can eat after your shift.”

Manager: “Ma’am, quit harassing my customers, or I will ask you to leave.”

An employee spoke up.

Employee: *To the woman* “Come here and I will take your order.”

Woman: “No. This isn’t about who takes my order. This is about how the manager here is willing to serve his employees before ACTual CUSTomers! This is called FAVoritism. It is BAD BUSiness.”

Manager: “I can assure you that, neither of these two works here. And, even if they did, I would serve them over you any day. I want you gone in the next five seconds, or the cops will be called.”

The woman left without her food, and my roommate and I got our meal for sixty percent off. That was the best meal I had ever eaten.

Customer: “I’d like a rack of ribs and some mashed potatoes. Oh, and some green beans.”

Me: “We don’t have that, sir.”

Customer: “Why not?!”

Me: “Because this is a McDonald’s, sir. We don’t serve that food.”

The customer looks around as if realizing where he is for the first time. He looks like he’s in his mid- to late twenties, and he doesn’t seem drunk or incapacitated.

Customer: “Since when?!”

Me: “Since 1955, sir.”

Customer: “Well… you did before!” 

He stormed out. He looked good for someone who remembers eating ribs and potatoes before 1955!

My wife and I go to a nice restaurant. As we are reviewing the menu, I notice a man at another table watching us and then checking his phone while talking with a woman. He does this frequently. At one point, the woman even stands and heads to the front of the house before coming back; it is worth noting that the restrooms are clearly visible in the other direction.

After the plates previously holding our appetizers are removed from our table, the pair stands up. The woman walks out the door, but the man walks over to us.

Man: “Hi. I know you caught me looking, and I’m sorry if I spooked you. My girlfriend and I were seated about twenty minutes before you, and our waitress disappeared after we twisted her arm to take our orders. I apologize again, but I was using you to gauge if it was a problem with the restaurant or just our rude server.”

Me: “Oh, uh… okay. Thanks for clearing that up.”

Man: “Appreciate you putting up with it. Anyway, we actually came here tonight because [Restaurant] did a promo with [Venue], and we got a $100 gift card with our tickets to a show. However, since we’re not getting service, and the manager felt comfortable blowing off our request to speak with him, we’re not coming back. I cannot, in good conscience, recommend this place to a friend, but it’d be a shame to waste the gift card. Would you like it?”

My wife and I trade a look that says it all.

Wife: “Thank you! We… we’re sorry this didn’t work out, but…”

Man: “Don’t apologize; you did nothing. Everything looked great, by the way. I hope you two enjoy.”

He walks off, and we marvel at our good fortune. It concerns me that he got a bad server and the manager did not care, but we have a great server, so I assume it’s the luck of the draw. As we’re waiting and chatting, I remember a sign at the front that asks guests to disclose if they are using a gift card ahead of the bill. When our waiter comes back with our entrees, I decide to be a good little soldier.

Me: “By the way, I just realized I had a gift card with me, and I remembered the sign. Can you still update our bill?”

Waiter: “Gift card. Can do.”

Wife: “And could we also get—”

Our waiter walks off in the middle of her request for refills of our drinks. The alarm bells are already going off, but I let it go and enjoy the marvelous food. We still have some of our cocktails and all of the water, so the loss of refills is not much of an inconvenience.

However, as expected, our waiter never comes back. He does not check if there are any problems with our entrees — mercifully, there are not — if we need refills, or anything. In fact, the only server who comes near us is a woman who goes to the man’s table carrying appetizers AND entrees, only to then curse when she finds the table unoccupied before stomping past us while we try to flag her down as a substitute — minuscule hope, but we have nothing to lose.

We sit there with cleaned plates for a solid five minutes before we decide that this degree of apathy should be rewarded with a dine and dash.

As we reach our car, another couple in earshot happens to be discussing this restaurant. I walk up.

Me: “Excuse me, I couldn’t help but overhear that you’re going to [Restaurant]. Well, I got a $100 gift card there, and we were going to check it out, but the menu’s really not our thing. Would you like it?”

Man #2: “Uh… sure! Thanks!”

Me: “Just one thing: don’t tell them you have it until the bill comes. Trust me.”

The look they gave me as they agreed told me that they knew exactly what we had gone through and were not going to make the same mistake. However, the glint in the man’s eyes told me he might see the gift card as a ticket for a free meal. I did not stick around to find out what he did.

This restaurant no longer exists. And no, it was not a victim of the lockdowns; it closed well before that. I wonder if anyone ever spent that gift card.

I worked in customer service for a big tech company.

A pair of entitled nightmares in human suits called during Christmas week. They had purchased two tablets online but weren’t satisfied with their shipping options. The week of Christmas, there was no way whatsoever to get the tablets to their home in time for Christmas due to the sheer volume of packages overloading delivery companies. Even overnight shipping was removed as an option at this point. They were demanding that we fly the pair of tablets to their home by private helicopter.

I’ll give you a moment to let that sink in.

Of course, they exploded when I told them that we couldn’t do that. After much work on my end to try to calm them down, they demanded to speak to management.

I patched them over to the company’s senior advisors, who I at least knew well enough to banter a bit with. I explained the situation.

Senior Advisor: “They want us to… what?”

Me: “They demand delivery by private helicopter.”

Senior Advisor: *Pinching the bridge of his nose* “They want… a delivery… by private helicopter…”

Me: “Yes, sir.”

Senior Advisor: “Please tell me you’re joking.”

Me: “Wish I could. They’ve been screaming at me for several minutes for telling them that we can’t do that. They’re demanding a manager.”

Senior Advisor: “I swear to God, if I pick up that phone and you’ve called the Rick Roll hotline or something, I will fire you. I don’t have time for pranks.”

We both knew that I would never do that to him, and he didn’t really mean that he’d fire me. It was just his way of trying to cling to his sanity during the most insane part of the year.

Me: “No joke, no prank. Brace yourself, sir. If I had a combat helmet to give you, I’d offer it in a heartbeat.”

The senior advisor muttered something that sounded like a string of four-letter words under his breath before picking up the line.

The senior advisor was on the phone for just a few minutes, as incomprehensible screeching sounded over the phone.

Senior Advisor: “I see you placed your order after our Christmas cut-off date. No special deliveries can be made as all our couriers are working overtime to deliver to customers who had the foresight to order early.”

He paused.

Senior Advisor: “I have no idea who you are and I absolutely don’t care. The cost of the helicopter alone is well over the cost of the tablets, and I’m not spending an idiot’s sum of money to fly two tablets to you.”

He paused.

Senior Advisor: “You do that. Your business will not be missed.”

Thus, they were banished.

Many years ago, I rented an apartment in a major city and had a roommate who signed a one-year lease with me. At first, she seemed like an okay person who was neat and tidy, had a solid job, and seemed ordinary. Soon enough, the mask slipped, and life with her became pure drama; pretty much daily there was something terrible going on in her life, and everyone was out to get her. She loved to party, and this led to many nights where she would loudly wake me up bringing other people back to party at our place or have loud one-night stands. Some of her friends came across as unsavory characters, and at times, I would try to leave if they were invited over. She was also a little ambiguous about what type of work she did, and her rent payments were frequently late.

She began to really become frustrating to live with. She cleaned up after herself and didn’t pick any fights with me; it just became a real nuisance to keep having to chase her or deal with her dramas.

Then, one day when I came home from work, she was gone! Her room had been completely cleared out, and it looked as if she had gone in a hurry! There was a hastily scribbled note explaining that she was breaking the lease and moving back to her hometown. Although I was happy to be rid of her, I was furious that she’d left me in the lurch as I desperately needed a roommate to help pay rent. I tried calling and texting her for days but, predictably, she ghosted me. 

I had a nasty feeling that she was mixed up with something shady and had left quickly due to this. For weeks, I expected the bailiffs or some shifty people to pay the apartment a visit looking for her, but no one came! Thankfully, one of my friends was able to move in very soon after, and life went on and was much more drama-free.

Fast forward five years. I’ve moved away from that city, I’m living nearly two hours west, and I’ve now married and have children. One day, I get a random message on Facebook from my ex-roommate.

Ex-Roommate: “Hey, [My Name], long time, no speak, huh? I’m gonna be back in [Major City] in the next couple of weeks, and I wanted to swing by and get some stuff. Could you let me into the apartment? Thanks.”

Immediately, I am annoyed. She has literally messaged out of the blue and offered zero apologies for what she did.

Me: “Sorry, [Ex-Roommate], but I no longer live in that building. Maybe contact the management company?”

Ex-Roommate: “I just need literally five minutes. If you could let me in, that’d be great!”

Me: “I don’t live in the building anymore. Sorry, but you will need to contact the management company!”

Ex-Roommate: “I really don’t know why this is such an issue. I need to get some stuff that is very important to me!”

Some red flags are popping up now. Why on earth does she suddenly want to get these items?

Me: “I didn’t see anything when you left; the room was cleaned out! If there was anything, it is probably long gone by now. I would speak to the management people.”

Ex-Roommate: “This stuff is extremely important to me. Why can’t you just let me in?”

Me: “If this stuff was so valuable, why did you wait five years to get it back?”

Ex-Roommate: “Why are you being so difficult?”

Me: “I’m not sure which part of ‘I don’t live there anymore’ is so hard for you to understand. Sorry, [Ex-Roommate], I can’t help you!”

Ex-Roommate: “Look. You need to get over whatever silly petty grudge you have. I know it didn’t end the best way, but that is life! Move on! Now, when can you let me in the apartment?”

Me: “Okay, I’m really not sure what’s going on here. I can’t help you. Move on!”

Ex-Roommate: “Listen, [My Name]. I’d suggest you do what I ask. My boyfriend is a VERY good attorney who sues people for a living! How would you like to be served with a lawsuit? He can do that without breaking a sweat!”

At this point, I know she’s just throwing a hail Mary to try and get what she wants, so I decide to end the chat here. 

Me: “Okay, do whatever you need to do! Not sure how your boyfriend can sue me for an apartment I don’t own nor reside in, but you do you!”

I didn’t hear back from her after that, but I was extremely suspicious about why she was contacting me, and it raised even more questions about what precisely she had in the apartment and why she had left in the first place.

A couple of months later, I was forwarded a letter from the old property management company from my building. It was a typed letter supposedly from a law firm threatening a lawsuit against me. Apparently, I was “obstructing” my ex-roommate, and unless I did what she asked, I would be taken to court.

I Googled the law firm, and it didn’t exist, nor was it written on any official firm’s letterhead. I threw it in the trash and marveled at how stupid this whole thing was! To this day, I have no idea what on earth this was all about and why she thought she could get me to do what she wanted. I think I dodged a major bullet when she left.