It’s a rainy day, so the mother’s group I meet with weekly has decided to visit a relaxed beachside cafe. We choose one that has plenty of space and is child-appropriate. When we arrive, there is only one other table of two seated so there are dozens of empty tables and chairs to choose from. We choose a more casual setting of two couches near the fireplace and get the kids seated with colouring-in books.

Everyone has a place to sit except me, so I grab a chair from a nearby table and sit it next to the end of the couch where my daughter is sitting. We’ve spoken with a waitress who has taken our drinks order, and all appears to be well.

Suddenly, a man — who I previously had not noticed, I’m not even sure where he came from — approaches me and proceeds to very angrily tell me off about moving the chair I’m sitting on. I first wonder if he works there but quickly realise from his wording that he doesn’t — referring to the restaurant staff as “they” instead of “we,” for example.

Man: “You moved that chair away from its table! The chairs are for paying customers!”

I’m trying to be polite even though he’s in my face, but I finally lose my patience.

Me: *Firmly* “I am a paying customer, so I also deserve to sit somewhere.”

All the while, I’m incredulously looking around me at the twenty or so empty tables. He eventually leaves and a waitress approaches to see what is happening.

Me: “Is it okay that I moved this chair?”

Waitress #1: *Looking rather confused* “Of course.”

I am still buzzing from the adrenaline that came from the confrontation for most of the meal.

When we finish and pay at the register, a different waitress asks us what happened, and I explain.

Waitress #2: “That man is a regular. He always acts like he owns the place and bullies other patrons.”

I hope they managed to get control of the situation, because it really soured what was usually the highlight of my week as a struggling mum.

I work in a grocery store in the meat department. We have a regular that comes in every day and wants his meat products cut up into little bite-size pieces for him, and it all has to weigh exactly half a pound. We call him Little Bites.

I had the day off today, but I go to the cafe attached to the grocery store to have lunch with a friend. I’m not wearing my very specific and bright-colored polo, my hat with the store logo, or my meat coat. I’m in regular clothing.

I’m talking with my friend, and she keeps glancing behind me, so I look over my shoulder. Little Bites is leering over me.

Little Bites: “Finally! I’d like two, please. Both chicken, thanks.”

Me: “What?”

Little Bites: “Don’t you work here?”

Me: “Not right now, and not at all today. I’m clearly having lunch.”

Little Bites: “Well, I don’t really like any of your coworkers, so just go run back there and do it really quick.”

Me: “No, I can’t, because I’m not working right now.”

Little Bites: “At least go back there and tell them I want two and for both to be chicken.”

Me: “I’m having lunch right now and won’t be doing that.”

Little Bites: “Fine!”

And then he stormed off. When I asked my coworkers the next day if he came back, they said yes and that he was fuming. He avoided me for a few months after that, which was an added perk.

I work in a local cafe. We had a particularly busy lunch rush and ran out of several pastries, so I am in the back making more. One of my coworkers passes by and stops to stare in bewilderment as I spray the bear claws with egg wash.

Coworker: “Remind me not to eat the bear claws.”

Me: *Thoroughly confused* “Uh, why not?”

He takes a closer look at the egg wash bottle and starts laughing.

Coworker: “Oh, man, I thought you were spraying chemicals on them!”

I started laughing, too. Granted, the egg wash looks similar to the bottled cleaners we have, but it is about half their size, is a completely different color, and has “Egg Wash” written on it in big black letters. Even without all that, why would anyone think that someone would spray chemicals on the food? The egg wash isn’t even stored anywhere near the chemicals.

I work in a food service establishment with “bagels” in the name. We’re known for our New York-style bagels and we’re only open during breakfast and lunch.

Customer: “I’ll have a sausage, egg, and cheese.”

Me: “And what bagel would you like that on?”

Customer: “Bagel?”

I gesture to the wall of bagels behind me.

Customer: “Don’t they come on wraps?”

Me: “We used to offer wraps, but corporate discontinued them.”

Customer: “Oh, never mind.”

Like, what? Bagels are in the name. We’re not called [Store] Wraps; we’re [Store] Bagels.

I’m working my last shift at a café and bakery. I’m cleaning up the dining area when I notice that there’s an order for pickup that has been sitting there for quite a while. The order is only a small cup of coffee. I dump it out and get a new cup and go outside and try to see if I can find the customer. Our restaurant shares a parking lot with several other businesses and the customer has parked all the way in the back on the grocery store side.

Once I reach the customer:

Me: “Are you [Customer]?”

Customer: “Yes.”

Me: “Here is your order. If you have an order for pickup, you can park in front of the restaurant and call us or use the app to let us know you’re here.”

Customer: “I did all of those.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but no, you didn’t, because we get an alert when you arrive after you hit the ‘I’m here’ button and no one has called us.”

The customer pulls out his phone to try to prove it.

Customer: “See? I did do it.”

Me: “The button still needs to be pressed. You can tell by the way the ‘I’m here’ button is still lit up. Can I see the number that you called?”

The customer goes to his recent calls.

Me: “That’s not our number.”

Customer: “Excuse me?”

Me: “That’s not our number. That’s the number for the same restaurant up the street. Our number is on the signs in front of the restaurant.”

Customer: “Well, can I get I refund for waiting so long?”

Me: “Sir, you used your coffee subscription so the coffee was free. It says so on your receipt.”

Customer: “Oh… okay.”

I start to walk back and head inside when he drives up to me and honks.

Customer: “What’s your name so I can report you?”

Me: “I don’t have to tell you my name, and it’s not my fault you didn’t call the right number or use the app correctly. Besides, today is my last day so there isn’t anything they can do.”

Customer: “I still want a refund.”

Me: “Sir, it was from your coffee subscription meaning it was free! They aren’t going to refund something that was free.”

Customer: “YOU ARE WHITE TRASH!”

He sped away and I finished the shift. A couple of days later, I went back to talk to a couple of friends and asked if there was any complaint about coffee. There wasn’t.

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