A group of us is on a business trip to attend a conference. The conference finished late the night before, but our flight isn’t until late afternoon the next day, so our team decides to enjoy one last business-expensed meal for lunch on the way to the airport.

Coworker: “[Diner] has five stars on Google maps, and it’s off the highway on the way to the airport.”

That sounded good, so all of our go there via our rented minivan on the way to the airport. We’re surprised to see that there are no other customers in the place. We see a single waitress sitting in the corner, on her phone.

Waitress: *Without looking up.* “Sit anywhere. I’ll be with you in a minute.”

Not a great impression, but we’re here for the food. The six of us take up a big booth, and the waitress gets to us a couple of minutes later.

Waitress: “Have you ordered yet?”

Me: “We haven’t seen any menus.”

Waitress: “Menus are viewable via the QR code on the wall.”

There was zero indication of this, but whatever. I get up, walk over, scan the faded code, and after three attempts, am able to load up a slow and badly optimised menu. We pass my phone around, and everyone selects something to eat. When it gets back to me, we see the option to order directly via the app.

I have to get up and find the waitress again, sitting in the same corner as before, on her phone.

Me: “We’re ready to order, but—”

Waitress: “—You do it on the app.”

Me: “—but… we need to make some allergy accommodations.”

Waitress: “You do it on the app.”

Me: “We do? We didn’t see any option to.”

She comes thiiiiis close to rolling her eyes and wordlessly puts her hand out. It takes me a while to realize she’s expecting me to hand over my phone. I do so, and she scrolls all the way to the bottom of the menu to show me a badly optimized notes section.

Waitress: “Write anything you need in there.”

Me: “That sounds fiddly. Can’t I just tell you?”

Waitress: “You do it on the app.”

So, I sit down and write every allergy into the notes, and hit send.

Refreshingly, the food does come out promptly, but the waitress brings it out, tops up our drinks once, and then ignores us for the rest of the meal. I walk up to her again.

Me: “We’re ready to pay.”

Waitress: “You do it on the app.”

Me: “I’m paying cash. And I’ll need a receipt for my expense report.”

The waitress looks confused and walks into the back. I guess my request short-circuited her. She comes back a moment later with a check for the meal, and I put down the cash for it. I only round it up to the nearest dollar. When the waitress sees this, she has the gall to say:

Waitress: “You know, gratuity is expected at a sit-down restaurant.”

Me: “I’ll do it on the app!”

She did not like that one bit, but I got my receipt, and we left. I asked my coworker:

Me: “Are you sure that place has five stars?!”

Coworker: “Yeah! Look!”

Me: *Looking.* “Well, that’s on me for not checking. It only has one review.”

The coworker looked again and realized this, too.

Coworker: “Whoops.”

Also, the review was blatantly written by the owner of the diner. Imagine if ‘Bob’s Burgers’ had a single five-star Google review from a user called ‘BurgerBob1980’.

A customer has ordered a ginger ale, so I place the soda can on his table with a glass containing some ice.

Customer: “Excuuuuuse me?! Do I look like some prissy-a** snowflake liberal to you?!”

I turn to look at him, confused.

Customer: “When I said I wanted a ginger ale, I wanted an AMERICAN drink.”

He holds up the can of ‘Canada Dry’.

Customer: “What the f*** is this?!”

Me: “That’s the only ginger ale we have.”

Customer: “Fine, I’ll have a Coke, but I’ll remember how unpatriotic this place is.”

I get him his Coke. A few minutes later, I’m talking to a coworker.

Coworker: “So he’s having a hissy fit over ginger ale, but we’re the snowflakes?”

Me: “I’m sooo tempted to tell him that our Coke comes from the bottling facility across the border in Canada, but we might get ourselves a whole snowstorm.”

I am eating at a drive-in diner with a name shared by blue hedgehog. They have a walk-up counter for those not in cars. I’m sitting by my car, eating my food, when I see a boy of around twelve or thirteen approach the woman working there, who looks to be late teens or early twenties.

Employee: “Hi, what can I get you?”

Boy: “Your phone number.”

Employee: “Why, do you need a babysitter?”

I was suddenly made aware of the group the boy was with, as they screamed a series of “ooooohs!” and “burn!” from where they were standing a few feet back.

The boy slunk back to his friends, and the employee took the next customer’s order as if it were nothing.

I’m eating at a diner in The South. A family comes in, and I notice them as they’re being seated, as they all have British accents (uncommon in our area). They look over the menu, and then one of them asks the waitress:

Customer: “What kind of teas do you have?”

Waitress: *Confused by the question.* “Sweet or unsweet.”

Customer: “No, like hot teas.”

Waitress: *Getting it.* “Oh! Honey, we’re not one of those places. We do sweet or unsweet tea. We don’t do any of that chamomile nonsense.”

Customer: “Not even… breakfast tea?”

Waitress: “It’s dinner time, hun.”

They settled for unsweetened tea. Witnessing the cultural chasm from my seat at the bar was very entertaining, especially when they got around to figuring out what ‘biscuits’ were…

I’m at a 24-hour diner. I’m working strange shifts, so I am there having ‘breakfast’ at 3 AM. A waitress has come to take my order.

Me: “Hello there! May I please have the blueberry pancakes and iced tea? Thank you!”

Waitress: “I… uh…”

The waitress looked tired, but now it looks like her brain has stopped.

Me: “Are… are you okay?”

Waitress: “Yes. Sorry. Blueberry pancakes and iced tea.”

She walks away, still in a bit of a daze. The manager is the one who ends up bringing my food over, and I ask after the waitress.

Manager: “Yes, I understand. My waitstaff was shocked by your manners.”

Me: “What are you talking about? I said please! I have manners!”

Manager: “Yes, that’s what’s so shocking.”