Waitstaff Don’t Ask These Questions For Fun, You Know

, , , , , | Friendly | June 28, 2020

My friend is the bad customer here. A few friends and I are eating late at night at a diner. My friend orders a ham and cheese sandwich and modifies the order some way, but I don’t remember exactly what he changes.

When the waitress stops by and asks how everything is, my friend smiles.

Friend: “Yeah, good, thanks.”

We all ask him why he didn’t speak up and he shrugs. At the end of the meal, the waitress brings the bill.

Waitress: “Okay, guys, here you go.”

Friend: “Well, actually, as you can see, I didn’t even eat this. It was gross, since you guys got my order wrong, and I couldn’t eat any of it.”

The waitress looks confused.

Waitress: “I’m sorry. When I asked if everything was all right you said yes, so I assumed…”

She looks at us for confirmation and we glare at my friend. He rolls his eyes.

Friend: “Yeah, well, clearly, it wasn’t. I didn’t eat it, so I’m not paying for it. And the fact that your kitchen got this basic modification wrong is horrible communication.”

We gaped at him, utterly confused by this sudden behavior; he is usually very temperate. The waitress apologized and went to remove his food from his bill. The rest of us rushed to pay our bills, so we could leave as fast as possible once he was done with his.

The waitress came back and my friend inspected the bill carefully to ensure he was not charged for it.

We left the waitress a big tip and berated my friend as soon as we were outside.

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This Story Tips Both Good And Bad

, , , , , , , , , | Right | May 28, 2020

My husband and I are Australians on holiday in America. My cousin spent about two years working in America as a waitress and has drilled into us the importance of tipping our servers. Even when the service is shockingly bad, including the time they forget to put our order into the system for forty-five minutes, we tip at LEAST 18% because that is what my cousin recommended, and we’re a little stunned that servers work for pennies an hour and rely on tips to survive.

A large amount of staff who notice our accents seem pleasantly surprised when we tip them the proper amount or more. We stop for lunch in a little diner near our hotel and the waitress is AMAZING. She chats with us, asks about Australia and expresses how much she’d love to visit, tells us where to find a specific store I really wanted to visit but haven’t been able find, and is just all-around wonderful.

She is coming over with our refills:

Waitress: “Here we go, guys, here’s your—”

Mid-sentence, a small child who has been running around unchecked for the last half an hour slams into her legs. She drops both our drinks — one all over the kid and one directly into my lap.

The kid’s mother starts SCREECHING at the top of her lungs and demanding to see a manager. The waitress is trying to clean up the kid, apologise, and get us napkins all at once. I clean myself up as best I can and wave her off — I can easily pop back to our hotel to change — so she leaves to get her manager to deal with the screaming mother and her crying child.

She comes back a few minutes later with new drinks for us and is near tears; while her manager had her back, the other woman had said some awful things and her entire party of ten had left her without a tip. She drops off our drinks and we finish them, and she brings back the bill.

Waitress: *Still nearly crying* “I am so sorry about that, guys. I took your refills off the bill; those are on me.”

Feeling bad, my husband is trying to make her laugh.

Husband: “I think you’ll find they were on my wife and that demon kid.”

The waitress, realising we’re just kidding, does crack a smile as she walks off to handle another table. While we were already going to tip her about 25% on our tiny lunch bill — seriously, food is RIDICULOUSLY cheap in the States — for being so wonderful to us, my husband just rifles through his pockets for whatever he has on him in cash and shoves it into the billfold. It adds up to about $60 on our $19 bill, and we try to escape before she sees it as we don’t want her to thank us for it. 

We’re about five steps out the door when she chases us outside.

Waitress: “Wait! You guys, two of these are twenties! I know we joked that you’re used to your rainbow money but you’ve gotta read the numbers. Here!”

She tries to hand us back some of the money and we refuse to take it.

Me: “Honey, no, that’s your tip. You were amazing. Take it.”

The waitress seemed dumbfounded that we had deliberately left her that much, and my husband joked that it was to make up for the gremlin’s parents stiffing her. She legitimately started to cry and asked if she could hug us, which we accepted, and she went back inside.

I’m still stunned that she was honest enough to try and give the tip back to foreigners she thought didn’t understand. We saw her again a few times before we left — the food was incredible at that diner — and she was just as lovely each time. Tip your servers, people!


This story was included in our May 2020 Inspirational Roundup.

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Unfiltered Story #192197

, , | Unfiltered | April 16, 2020

*Overheard at a local diner*
Girl: Ew! There’s bacon on this!
Girl’s friend: You ordered a BLT, you know, bacon,lettuce,tomato?
Girl: What?! I thought the B meant bread!

Unfiltered Story #120467

, | Unfiltered | September 11, 2018

(It’s always been a challenge for me to get eggs the way I like them: fried, with the yolk cooked just enough that it’s starting to firm up, but not completely finished. From references I read online, what I’m asking for really IS an egg over medium: long enough to partly set the yolk but still leave it a little creamy. However every time I order it, what they give me is a textbook over-easy egg, with the whites firm, and the yolk completely runny.)

Me: “I’ll have an extra medium egg please.”

Server #1: “What’s that?”

Me: “A medium egg, but the yolk isn’t as runny.”

Server #1: “That’s a hard fried egg.”

Me: “But I don’t want it completely solid.”

Server #1: “That’s a medium egg.”

Me: “But the yolk will be runny.”

Server #1: “No it wont.”

(I get the egg, and it’s very runny. I’d say it got easier when someone told me the magic words were “Over well, yolk not broken” but even then I’ve gotten…)

Server #2: “An egg that was scrambled before being fried.”

Server #3: “An egg that was scrambled before being fried, but they kept the yolk intact.”

Server #4: “Over-hard eggs with broken yolks.”

(These days, I’ve resorted to asking for scrambled eggs, because I’ve only found about two places where they cook the egg the way I ask. And one of those was because the server had no idea what it was and asked the chef, and he knew exactly what I was asking for.)

Waffling On All Night

, , , , , | Right | September 6, 2018

(I am working an overnight shift at a very popular 24/7 mainly breakfast diner in Georgia. Our specialty is in the name of the restaurant. It is around 2:00 am and it is dead. We have one table who has already paid and is just hanging out, which we don’t mind when its dead. I’m just about to go outside for a smoke break when the phone rings.)

Me: *to coworker* “I got it! Thank you for calling [Diner]. How may I help you?”

Customer: “Uh, yeah. Do y’all sell coffee?”

Me: “Yes, we sure do. We have decaf, regular, and dark roast.”

Customer: “Do y’all sell eggs?”

Me: “Yes… we do. You can order them to be made any way you like, or add them to any sandwich for extra.”

Customer: “Do y’all sell waffles?”

(I’m slightly annoyed at this point. More people have come in. This person doesn’t seem like they are going to order anything and it’s obvious that we sell waffles because it’s in the name of the diner.)

Me: “Yes, we do. You can get chocolate, peanut butter, or pecan.”

Customer: *giggling* “Wow. You really sell waffles?”

Me: *finally losing my patience* “Yes, that’s why it’s called [Diner].”

Customer: “Rude!” *click*

(They called two more times that night. My coworkers (server and grill operator) took turns answering. After they hassled the other server, they called back. The grill operator ended up telling them that if they didn’t want to order anything, they needed to f*** off and stop calling.)

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