On A Diet From Allergies

| England, UK | Friendly | May 18, 2017

Friend: “Can I try some?”

Me: “But I thought you couldn’t have pastry?”

Friend: “Only when I’m dieting.”

Me: “You said you broke out in hives!”

Friend: “Only when I’m DIETING!”

(She practically ate my entire pastry, then when the waitress asked her if she wanted some more, she said she was allergic. I’ve known her for about 20 years, and I thought she was allergic the entire time…)

Can’t Distract From The Fact

| Springfield, OR, USA | Working | May 14, 2017

(I work in a coffee shop/bakery. There are usually two or three of us up front, plus one or two bakers. Today, it’s me and the cafe manager, who is nice enough, usually, but tends to be a bit passive-aggressive and always rides everyone about providing great customer service. She’s especially tough on me, because I’m autistic and sometimes don’t get social expectations right away. One day I’m making drinks and she’s at the register a few feet from me when a customer walks up.)

Manager: “Hi, welcome to [Cafe]. How can I help you?”

Lady: *a bit slowly, looking at the menu* “Yes, um… Can I have a, uh…”

Manager: *to a different customer at the pastry display* “Hi! Can I help you with anything?”

(She proceeds to walk away from the first customer to go help the other instead, leaving me and the customer standing there, dumbfounded.)

Me: *setting out the last drink I had in the queue and walking to the register* “Uh, I’m sorry about that. What can I make for you?”

Lady: “I’ll, uh… I’ll take a medium skinny chai.”

(I ring her in, then, as I’m making the drink:)

Lady: “Does she do that often? Walk off like that?”

Me: “Sorry. She’s a bit distractible.”

Lady: “Well, it’s unacceptable.”

Me: “Sorry about that.”

Lady: “Oh, you’re fine. But I really should talk to the manager about her.”

Me: “Ma’am? That is our manager.”

Treating You Like Euro Trash

| Amsterdam, The Netherlands | Working | May 10, 2017

(My friend and I are visiting Amsterdam on a layover to Israel. We stop in a cafe for lunch and at the end of our meal, decide to leave a tip for the waitress. We’re a little unfamiliar with the currency, but give it our best guess and stand to leave. As we near the door, the waitress shouts, approaches us, and shoves the tip we’d left back at us. Note that my friend and I are used to traveling in the Middle East, not in Europe, and are admittedly daft when it comes to Euros — and we are also terribly jetlagged and exhausted.)

Waitress: “Hey. This is wrong.”

My Friend: “I’m sorry. Did we leave too little?”

(The waitress points to the coins in her hand, indicating one coin in particular.)

Waitress: “This is 2c.”

Me: “Oh… I’m so sorry, I thought that was €2.”

Waitress: *irritably* “It’s not.”

Me: “I see that. I’m sorry; I can’t believe we missed that. We must be more exhausted than we thought!”

(The waitress sneers impatiently as I shuffle through my purse to find the correct coinage. Meanwhile, my friend attempts to lighten the situation.)

Friend: “We really are sorry; it was an honest mistake. I’m sure you get this stuff from foreigners all the time and it must get really annoying.”

(The waitress just glares.)

Friend: *laughing tiredly* “You know… We’re just dumb tourists…”

Waitress: *curtly* “Yes, you are.”

(I finally find the right coin and hand it to her, adding two extra euro to make up for the mistake. The waitress quickly snatches the correct tip, keeping the one we had originally left, and then pauses, glancing at me. She snorts.)

Waitress: “I could have guessed.”

Me: “Excuse me?”

(She gestures to the Star of David pendant hanging from my neck.)

Waitress: “You’re a Jew, no? Well, nice try.”

(She turned abruptly and returned to the back of the cafe, leaving us stunned and confused.)

They Won’t Stop For Muffin, Part 2

, | ON, Canada | Right | April 29, 2017

(I work in a well known coffee place in Canada. This takes place while I’m working as the ‘order taker’ on a headset in the drive-thru.)

Me: “Okay, would you like anything else today?”

Customer: “Yeah, can I get a Pumpkin Spice muffin?”

Me: “So sorry, hun. Our Pumpkin Spice season is over. Would you like me to list the muffins we do carry?”

Customer: “Sure!”

Me: “Blueberry, chocolate chip, cranberr—”

Customer: *interrupting* “Do you have raisin bran?”

Me: “No, sorry, But we have cranberry apple walnut bran, fruit explosion, coff—”

Customer: *interrupting again* “What about banana nut?”

Me: *trying not sound frustrated* “No… sorry. The last two muffins we have are coffee cake and red velvet.”

(There is a long pause:)

Customer: “What about lemon poppy seed. You guys have that?”

(My coworkers, who also wear headsets, are now laughing as I mime a strangling motion.)

Disorder From The Order

, | Austin, TX, USA | Working | April 23, 2017

(I’m in a cafe where I tend to banter with the cashiers there, so they at least know me. I’m at the counter ordering my food. She is high-school or college-aged, possibly a student at the local big-shot university.)

Me: “And I’d like a… Boy, are you giggly today!”

Cashier: *giggles*

Me: “I don’t know why you’re so giggly, but look at that smile! Hey, look at how giggly she is!”

Cashier: *giggles some more*

(At this point I’m actually kind of mystified as to what’s so funny, but she takes my order and hands me a number, and I walk away. I walk over to a bench to sit down while they make my order. I look down at my number card, and suddenly all becomes clear. It is the number 69.)

Me: *holding the card up* “I figured it out!”

Cashier: *studiously avoiding looking at me*

(One of her coworkers came around to give me the food and he started snickering, too. It’s been over a week now and she still won’t look at me, which I find utterly hilarious.)

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