(I’m standing in a fairly short queue when a businessman walks in, pushes straight to the front, and starts dictating his order to the 20-something-year-old cashier.)

Cashier: “I’m afraid you’re going to have to go to the back of the queue, sir.”

Business man: “I have an important meeting shortly. You must serve me now!”

Cashier: “Yeah, the longer you stand there, the later you’re going to be. Back of the queue.”

Business man: “Do you have any idea who I am?”

Cashier: “Nope. Now shut up and go to the back of the queue.”

Business man: “How dare you talk to me like that?! Get me your manager now!”

(The cashier sighs heavily, walks into the back, comes out with an older woman in tow and nods her towards the businessman, then disappears back into the back.)

Manager: “What seems to be the problem, sir?”

Business man: “That boy was incredibly rude to me! I demand you fire him immediately!”

Manager: “I’m afraid I don’t have the authority to do that, but if you want I can get the owner for you.”

Business man: “Bah! Fine, but I expect to be compensated for having to go through all of this trouble!”

Manager: “I’m sure you can discuss that with him, sir.”

(She then walks into the back, then comes out again with the now grinning cashier.)

Cashier: “Yo.”

Business man: “What’s the meaning of this? I said I wanted to talk to the owner!”

Cashier: “Like I said, yo.”

(The businessman silently gapes for a few seconds, then walks out, stammering threats about having his head and closing the shop down.)

Manager: “Why do you always have to involve me?”

Cashier: “I just love the look on their stupid little faces when they find out I own this joint.”

(The manager rolls her eyes and walks into back.)

Cashier: “I love this job. What can I get you?”

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(Note: I’m a regular at this coffee shop, enough so that the employees know how to my drink properly with extra caramel. Today, I place my order with a new barista who I’ve never seen before.)

Me: “Venti upside-down caramel macchiato with super extra caramel, please.”

New Barista: “Sure. That’ll be [total].”

(The barista makes the drink, and I take a sip.)

Me: *to the the barista* “Um, excuse me? Can you please put some more caramel in here?”

(The new barista begins to head over, but before she even arrives, another employee who has made drinks for me before literally DIVES across the floor toward the counter. The other employee snatches the drink and swiftly turns towards the new barista who made my drink.)

Other Employee: “YOU MADE IT WRONG AND NOW YOU’LL HAVE TO MAKE THE DRINK OVER… AGAIN!”

(The other employee SLAMS the drink into the sink, where it promptly explodes everywhere. The new barista is looking at me, aghast. Everyone is quiet and the other employee makes my drink over again, but SLAMS it on the counter again without so much as looking at me. That was the last time I went there!)

(It’s my first day working in this cafe. It’s late in the afternoon and we are getting ready to close. I am in the back kitchen, cleaning, when I overhear this conversation between the waitress and a customer who has just walked in and is looking at the food we have left on display.)

Waitress: “Hi! What can I get for you?”

Customer: “Don’t you have anything else vegetarian? All I can see are these quiches, and they look disgusting! Like they’ve been here for hours!”

Waitress: “I’m sorry, ma’am. Normally we do have a few more vegetarian options, pasties and such, but as you can see, it’s almost the end of the day, so we’ve sold out of most things. But I can assure you that the quiches are baked fresh here and these ones are still fine to eat.”

Customer: “Well, they look terrible. I’ll just have one of those pies.”

Waitress: “Are you sure, ma’am? These are meat pies; they’re not vegetarian.”

Customer: “Just give me a d*** pie!”

(The waitress reluctantly bags up the pie and the customer pays for it and leaves in a huff. Sure enough, less than five minutes later, the customer returns.)

Customer: “How dare you sell this to me! It’s not vegetarian! It’s got f***ing meat in it! What the f*** is wrong with you?!”

Me: *to my fellow kitchen employees* “I’m going to love working here, aren’t I?”

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(I work as a barista while my coworker is on the till. It is the lunch rush and we have a queue of about 15 people. We have been working nonstop for several hours and so are running out of supplies and mugs. I am currently finishing an order for a lady—Customer #1—and preparing to make drinks for the next elderly gentleman—Customer #2.)

Customer #2: *loudly* “I can’t believe how slow this service is! It’s absolutely ridiculous! I’ve only come in here for a cup of coffee!”

(He continues to moan in this manner. I set up the saucers and cutlery for Customer #1.)

Customer #1: *HUGE smile on her face* “Look how hard these girls are working! They are working nonstop! How long are you here until young lady?”

Me: “6 pm.”

Customer #1: “Oh, dear! That’s quite late!”

Me: “It’s alright, really. Today hasn’t been so hectic.”

Customer #1: “Well, you girls really do work hard. It’s to be commended!”

Me: “Thank you very much! Enjoy your drinks and have a nice day!”

(I move on to Customer #2, who by this point has shut up and is looking at the floor. I make his drinks and finish his order and he doesn’t say a word. That lady really perked me up for the rest of my day and it’s nice to see my work is appreciated by some! Thank you!)

(Our cafe makes a number of desserts. Most can be made by any of the staff. However, a few need to be made specifically by the chef. Typically, if business is not too fast, those of us taking the orders will simply call the order out to the chef for the entire cafe to hear.)

Me: “Hello, how can I help you today?”

Customer: “I’d like a fondle.”

Me: “Excuse me!?”

Customer: “Yeah, I’ve got some friends waiting, so hurry up.”

Me: “Of course, sir. Could, you… er… please repeat your order for me so I can put it through?”

Customer: “A fondle! You know the one for five people! Geez, you haven’t been working here long, have you?”

Me: “A fon… oh, the chocolate fondue?”

Customer: “The fondle, yes! Hurry it up!”

Me: “It won’t be long, sir. I’ll call you when it’s done.”

(The customer, grumbling, goes and sits down at a table with various other people.)

Me: *to the chef* “One chocolate fondle, please!”

Chef: “One… what?”

Me: “The last customer asked for a fondle. So, one of your absolute best fondles for him please!”

Chef: “Well, of course! One extra-large fondle coming up!”

(Most of the customer’s friends start chuckling. The customer himself does not seem to notice anything awry. The chef, amused, makes the fondue and brings it out to the customer himself.)

Chef: *to the customer* “Here you are, sir. A big satisfying fondle, just as you requested!”

(From that point on, we nearly always call fondue orders out to the chef this way. He is proud to be able to claim that he gives hundreds of men and women ‘fondles’ every day, with full approval from his wife.)