(I work in a popular chain coffee shop. We are located in a commercial area very popular with tourists and near several hotels, so we tend to be very busy, especially on weekend mornings. On this particular morning, we’ve received a higher than normal number of mobile orders and are a bit backed up. Most customers are understanding, but one woman who is standing with a friend near a regular customer of ours is clearly unhappy.)

Customer: “Oh, my God! I have never had to wait this long for a mobile order! I’m shocked!”

(The regular customer shoots her a dirty look but says nothing.)

Customer: “This is outrageous. I don’t believe this.”

(She continues complaining to her friend, the regular customer, and anyone else in earshot. No one answers her. Meanwhile, I finish making the regular’s drink and hand it to her.)

Me: “Here you go. Sorry about the extra wait!”

Regular: “It’s not a problem. Thanks!” *to the complaining customer* “You know that there are people that are dying, right? If waiting five minutes for your coffee is the worst thing that happens to you today, I’d call that a win.”

(The regular customer left and several people who were close enough to hear what she said snickered a little, including the complaining customer’s friend. The complaining customer was silent until she got her drink and left. I love my regulars.)

(Every morning I have a regular couple. They always order the same thing, so today I decide to try an upsell.)

Me: “Good morning, Mr. H. Is it the usual today?”

Mr. H: “Yes, please, [My Name].”

Me: “Can I tempt you to anything to nibble on this morning? We have some lovely croissants.”

Mr. H: “Oh, no, thank you. I’ll just wait for Mrs H to get back and I’ll nibble on her.”

At the café where I work, we don’t have a tip jar, but if a customer chooses to give the cashier a tip, we’re allowed to accept it. It’s a dumb corporate policy, but there’s nothing we can do about it.

Generally, what most of us do is divvy up whatever we get with whomever else is working with us; that is to say, if I get fifty cents and only have one other coworker on the floor, he gets a quarter and I get a quarter. But this isn’t an official policy, and if someone chooses to keep all the tips that they get, there’s nothing anyone else can do about it. It’s not very good form, in my opinion, but if that’s the choice that someone makes, no one gets too bothered by it. And it’s pretty much expected that if someone doesn’t share their tips, no one else is going to share with that person; it’s a trade-off.

I have one coworker who not only doesn’t share his tips, but also loudly announces to the rest of us whenever he gets a good tip. He’s even gone so far as to wave a handful of change in my face at the end of his shifts. Although no one gets too bothered by someone choosing not to share, this guy being so “in your face” about the whole thing has always rubbed me the wrong way.

I was on the register when one of our regulars came up, and said that he paid with his card almost every time he came through, but that he wanted us all to know how much he appreciated our hard work. And then he handed me sixty dollars.

In the café that day, I had two other coworkers on the floor with me. One of them has always shared his tips with me. The other one was the hoarder I mentioned earlier. So, instead of handing out a twenty to each of them, I opened the register, broke one of the bills, and gave the sharing coworker $30, keeping the other $30 for myself.

My coworker whined. He begged. He complained to our manager. But what I had done was completely in line with our store’s policy. My coworker cornered me after my shift, got very close in my personal space, grabbed my wrist so tightly that it left a mark, and asked me what he’d ever done to deserve me “acting like a stuck-up c***.”

I was going to be mature(ish) about this. I was planning on giving him $10 and then reminding him that that’s a bigger percent than he’s ever given me. But after he called me that? I let him have it.

And then, I filed a harassment complaint with my manager. Turns out, I was not the first person he’d gotten physical with.

My coworker is now my former coworker.

(I’m the customer here, and I am not proud of this. Every day I get these little bagel balls, kind of like donut holes, but filled with cream cheese. They’re delicious. I decide to change it up.)

Cashier #1: “Hi, [My Name]! Are you getting your bagels?”

Me: “No, I’m going to change it up today. Can I please get a chocolate and caramelized banana oatmeal?”

Cashier #1: “Sure thing!”

Cashier #2: “Nope, you can’t have that!”

Me: “But it looks yummy.”

Cashier #1: “She can have it if she wants it!”

Cashier #2: “Nope, she’s allergic to nuts; I’m not doing 911 again.”

Me: “Hey, I was fine with my Epipen; y’all are the ones that called 911! But yeah, no nuts. Can I have the blueberry one, then?”

Barista: *yelling over the noise* “NO! YOU DON’T EVEN LIKE OATMEAL!”

My Husband: “He’s right; you don’t! Why are you ordering it if you don’t like it?! Jesus, you’re holding up the line!”

Me: “Oh, yeah, I don’t. It has chocolate and looked yummy!”

My Husband: “YOU DON’T LIKE OATMEAL!”

Cashier #1: “Would you like your bagels?”

Me: *sheepishly* “Yes, please.”

(While we are waiting for our drinks at the side counter…)

My Husband: “Wait. How does he know you don’t like oatmeal?!”

Barista: “We’ve already done this song and dance a few times now.”

(I work in a small cafe serving coffee and basic food like sandwiches, burgers, chips, etc. We offer the option to create your own sandwich using a variety of ingredients listed on our menus. This exchange occurs with a customer one afternoon. The lady has a somewhat vague look on her face as she walks in, and she takes a moment to respond to all my questions. These are questions I have to ask so I get people’s orders right.)

Me: “Good afternoon! What can I get you?”

Customer: *pause and stares at me* “Do you do sandwiches?”

Me: “Yes! On the bottom of the menu here…” *motions to the menu listing sandwich ingredients* “…are all the things you can have in a sandwich. You can have them fresh or toasted.”

(The lady says nothing for a moment and appears to read the menu.)

Customer: “The carrot, lettuce, cucumber, and tomato, please.”

Me: “So, you’d like just a salad sandwich.”

Customer: “Yes.”

Me: “So, you don’t want any meat in that one?”

(I motion again to the meat options; we offer chicken, ham, or turkey as meat fillings.)

Customer: “Beef!”

Me: “I’m sorry, but we don’t have beef. How about ham?”

Customer: “Yes.”

Me: “Okay. So, a ham and salad sandwich. Was that fresh or toasted?”

Customer: “Toasted.”

Me: “Okay! Would you like us to put the salad in the sandwich after the bread is toasted so it doesn’t go limp?”

Customer: “What? No. On the side.”

(I’m confused now, because she said she wanted salad in the sandwich.)

Me: “Okay, wait… So, you would like a side of salad instead of the salad in the sandwich?”

Customer: “Yes.”

Me: “Okay. So, you would like just the ham in the sandwich, and a side of salad with that?”

Customer: “Yes.”

Me: “Okay. So, that was just ham in the sandwich. No cheese or anything else, right?”

Customer: “Oh, yes, cheese!”

Me: *now inwardly screaming* “Okay! So, you would like a ham and cheese toasted sandwich with a side salad?”

Customer: “Yes.”

Me: “Was that white bread or multigrain?”

Customer: “Multigrain.”

(I finally got to ring her up for what I hoped was actually what she wanted. She got her order, ate it, didn’t complain, and left. I am baffled and exhausted by trying to get the order from this lady. Was it really so hard to say, “Ham and cheese toastie with salad on the side”?)