(I have worked at this restaurant since it opened. It is a mom-and-pop-style place, not a chain, and therefore we have some items not commonly seen. A gentleman and his wife come in for dinner and peruse the menu for a while, then call me over.)

Me: “Do you have any questions, or are you all decided?”

Woman: “I’ll have the fish and chips.”

Man: “I’m curious about this pork chop dinner. Apples and blueberries?”

Me: “Yes! It’s actually quite delicious. It is a bone-in chop, 1.5 inches thick, and is stuffed with apples coated in a cinnamon glaze. Once cooked, we top it with a house-made blueberry sauce.”

Man: “Hmm. Sounds interesting, but pretty weird. I’m not sure if I’d spend $30 on it.”

Me: “Well, sir, if you’d like to try it, I’m sure you’ll enjoy it. If you don’t, I’ll comp the dish for you and get you another meal! I’m positive you’ll love it.”

Man: “Can’t say no to that deal! Sure, I’ll take one.”

(The couple eat their food and rave non-stop. They become regulars, and the man has the pork chop once a week for the next four months! I tell my manager about this, and he scoffs.)

Boss: “Yeah, who cares. Don’t be giving food away; that’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

(Some months later, a woman comes in from out of town for a bite to eat on her road trip. She’s scanning the menu.)

Woman: “I can’t seem to find anything I think I’d like… Can you do the pork chop without the apples and blueberries?”

Me: “Well, our chef prepares the chops fresh every morning once they’re delivered, so, unfortunately, all the chops are stuffed already. I can hold the blueberry sauce, though!”

Woman: “I’m just not sure I’d like that.”

Me: “Well, if you—”

Boss: “Let me tell you a story! When we first opened…”

(He rattles off my entire story about the previously mentioned couple, then finishes with:)

Boss: “—and so I told him I’d pay for his entire bill if he didn’t like it! I do that with all my customers and haven’t ever had to yet. That’s why people love this place so much; my service is always above and beyond. I’ll get your bill for you if you aren’t satisfied.”

(I’m standing there this entire time, absolutely flabbergasted and appalled at what I just heard.)

Woman: “Sure, I’ll have one. With the sauce! Also a glass of [Expensive Top-Shelf Red Wine] with it, and [Top-Shelf Cocktail] for now.”

(Her food arrives and she takes a bite, immediately spitting it out and letting out an, “EEEUGH!”)

Boss: “What’s wrong?”

Woman: “I didn’t know this had cinnamon in it; I hate cinnamon… I’ll just go to [Fast Food Joint] across the road… Blegh!”

(She started to leave, when my boss stopped and asked her to pay for her drinks. She reminded him of what he had said, and looked confused. He had no choice but to let her know it was covered… out of his own pocket! Karma bites!)

(I am waiting for my tea latte to be done when a rude man comes, orders, and then takes other people’s drinks, one being mine.)

Man: “Miss! You put the wrong name down. My name isn’t Moorgreat.”

(Yeah, he pronounced my name wrong.)

Barista: “Sir, that’s probably because you grabbed the wro—”

Man: “No, I did not grab the wrong one! You just spelled my name wrong! I want your manager! This is third time you have made a mistake!”

(I have now gotten next to him and grabbed my drink from his hand.)

Me: “It’s pronounced ‘Mar-Greet.’ This is my drink. Yours are over there, getting cold.”

(The man was speechless and looked around to the glaring people, and then he took his drinks and left. Everyone got their right drinks and I bought a muffin for the barista.)

(My daughter is friends with a guy that I can’t stand. I feel that he treats her badly, often ditching her at the last minute, and I strongly suspect that he is a liar. I know better than to forbid her from being friends with him, though; all I can hope is that she’ll eventually come to realize that he is a terrible person. One day, she comes home with this story.)

Daughter: “I was out having coffee with [Friend] and [Friend’s Brother]. I got onto Facebook on my phone, and there’s a whole bunch of messages on [Friend]’s wall, saying how awful it is that his brother got into a terrible accident.”

Me: “Doesn’t he only have one brother? The one that was having coffee with you?”

Daughter: “Yup.”

Me: “So… What’s all this about a terrible accident?”

Daughter: “I asked the same thing. [Brother] just sighed and said, ‘Yeah, [Friend] didn’t want to go to a party he’d been invited to, so he told everyone that I’d been in an accident and was in the hospital.’Then [Friend] started laughing his a** off and said, ‘Pretty smart, eh? That way, I don’t have to go to the party, and everyone is sorry for me! Someone even brought food to the house to make us feel better in our time of trouble!’”

Me: *horrified* “That’s unbelievable!”

Daughter: “Yeah. I think I was supposed to think it was funny, but all I could think of was all those friends who were feeling sorry for him, not knowing that he was laughing at them.”

(Then, she starts looking thoughtful.)

Daughter: “You know… there have been plenty of times when [Friend] and I had plans, and he’s called me at the last minute to say that he’s sick, or he slept in, or he forgot that he had plans with someone else. I’m starting to think that at least some of those excuses were lies, too.”

Me: “That’s possible, yeah.”

(Not long after that, she decided to stop being friends with the guy. Hallelujah.)

(I work with a woman who is a bit odd. One day, the entire department receives an e-mail from her:)

Email #1: “[Husband] and I have decided that it’s time to throw a party! Everyone is invited for [date]. As you might know, my brother is a gourmet chef, and he’s promised to cook a feast like you’ve never had before, so make sure you show up hungry!”

(I don’t like showing up at a party empty-handed, so I go to see her to ask if I can bring anything. Most of the other invitees do the same.)

Coworker: “No need; like I said, my brother will provide everything.”

(I notice that she looks slightly shifty when she says this, but I don’t think anything of it. Shortly after that, the entire department — except for the secretary — gets a second email from her.)

Email #2: “Psst… That first email was a ruse! This party is actually a bridal shower for [Secretary]. All the ladies are invited. See you then!”

(I have a very light lunch on the day of the shower and skip off to [Coworker]’s house, happily anticipating some gourmet goodies. There aren’t any. In fact, there is no food at all. It seems that the “my brother is going to cook a feast” bit was part of the ruse. [Coworker] doesn’t seem to realize that all of her guests, including the guest of honour, are hungry and grumpy. We all make excuses to leave early. I raid the fridge when I get home, much to my husband’s surprise.)

Husband: “What happened to your feast?”

Me: “Good question.”

(The following day, [Coworker] talked about how successful the party had been. She never noticed that all of us ladies were conspicuously silent.)

(I work for a popular ice cream shop. One evening an older woman comes into the shop.)

Me: “Hi, how are you today?”

Customer: “Good, thank you. I’m wondering if you have any ice cream that is sugar-free; I’m diabetic.”

Me: “Of course. We have a vanilla that is sugar-free.”

Customer: “Oh, is that the only one?”

Me: “Let’s double-check.”

(I walk around to the front of the ice cream display, as there are cards with the ingredients for customers to read. After double-checking, I answer her question.)

Me: “My apologies; vanilla is the only sugar-free flavour we have right now.”

Customer: “That’s okay. I suppose vanilla would be okay… or I could throw caution to the wind and treat myself.”

Me: *laughs* “That is always an option.”

(We spend a few minutes small-talking about life. I realize I need to start closing the store, so I try to steer the conversation back to ice cream, since she hasn’t actually ordered.)

Me: “Have you decided which flavour you would like?”

Customer: “I think I will get the sugar-free vanilla.”

Me: “Great, let me get that for you.”

(I try to pass her to go behind the counter.)

Customer: “Are you required to try everything in the store?”

Me: “It’s recommended that we sample the ice cream and the chocolates that are on display; that way we can best recommend or give an accurate description of the flavours.”

Customer: *smirks, reaches out to touch me, and places her hand on my stomach* “I can tell you have; looks like someone has been indulging while working here.” *proceeds to jiggle my stomach*

Me: *smile quickly fades away* “I’ll get your ice cream.”

(I got her ice cream and said goodnight as she happily skipped out the store with her cone. I happily never saw her again.)