(My grandmother and I go to a diner while at an anime convention. Due to the con, a biker event that week, and the diner being close to a resort, it’s packed. We finally get seated after a bit of a wait.)

Waitress: “I’m sorry about the wait. Your food might take a bit longer as well.”

Me: “Oh, it’s no problem! Nothing you guys can really do about the crowd.”

(We order our food along with our drinks, so they can get it in the kitchen faster. After another wait, the waitress brings out our food. She’s visibly stressed, and probably near tears.)

Waitress: “Sorry about the wait. Here you go!

Grandmother: “Oh, that was quicker than we expected! You guys are doing great!”

Me: “Thank you so much! I really hope nobody’s giving you grief over the crowd and waiting times.”

(She smiles, and goes off to help the other tables. After eating, we order milkshakes. When we get the receipt to pay, we realize she didn’t charge us for the shakes.)

Me: “Excuse me, I think you made a mistake. The milkshakes aren’t on here.”

Waitress: “I know. You guys have made this whole mess a little bit better, so I figured it’d be a small reward. Have a great day!”

(We left her a $20 tip on a $15 meal.)

(My coworker and I order lunch from a local diner in the small village where we work. We pick up our food and return to the office to eat.)

Coworker: “What did you order for me?”

Me: “A veggie wrap with cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, sour cream, and black olives. Why? What did you get?”

Coworker: “A wrap with cheese, onions, and black olives. That’s it; there’s nothing else in here.”

(As we try to figure out what went wrong with my coworker’s order, I open my dinner.)

Me: “Guess what?! They made mine wrong as well. I ordered shredded roast beef, and this is pork!”

(We called the diner, thinking that maybe we had accidentally been given someone else’s food.)

Diner Owner: “Well, we were really busy and ran out of a few things, so we just kind of threw together a wrap and substituted pork. It’s fine. We even gave you extras!”

Me: “Actually, we have less food. I just realized you forgot my green beans too.”

(I’m sticking to packing my own lunch from now on.)

(Some of my extended family from Ireland have come over to the US for a cross-country road trip. My one cousin is obsessed with French fries, which are called “chips” over there.)

Cousin: “Can I have some chips?”

Server: “Oh, I’m sorry we don’t have potato chips.”

Aunt: “He means ‘French fries,’ sorry!”

(Whether he just never clued in or refused to change what he called them, he never said French fries. When they finally get back to the east coast before flying home, we’re having dinner with them when this happens.)

Cousin: “Can I have chips with that?”

Waitress: “Of course!”

(We were thinking the waitress just recognized their accent and knew the difference in terms; turned out when the food arrived, alongside his hamburger was a giant mound of made-on-premises, freshly fried, potato chips! We got a good laugh out of it, and thankfully they were tasty, too!)

(I had decided to go to a local 24/7 diner for supper. After being seated and placing my order, I am waiting patiently when Head Waitress comes up to me.)

Head Waitress: “Sir, I’m sorry, but there’s been a delay in your order. Would you like some soup? We have chicken noodle, broccoli and cheese, Italian Wedding, chicken noodle…” *she mentioned chicken noodle two more times*

Me: “No, thanks, I’m good.”

Head Waitress: “Please, at least for me? Have some soup, or salad?”

Me: “How about some cheese sticks?”

Head Waitress: “I’m sorry, can’t do that. I can give you a bowl of soup or salad. Soup or salad?”

Me: *laughing* “Okay, I’ll have the broccoli and cheese soup.”

Head Waitress: “Very good, and again, I’m sorry for the delay.”

Me: “Not your fault. I know you’re slammed at the moment.”

(They were. There was a large party of about 15, a family in one section of the restaurant, and just about every other table or booth was full.)

Head Waitress: *over her shoulder* “Thank you!”

(I waited a few more minutes, rolling up the little paper band they wrap around the utensils, singing along to The Beatles’ “Strawberry Fields Forever” that happened to be playing in the restaurant. Later, Head Waitress brought out my soup, *and* my original meal order, which was a half-pound cheeseburger with fries. I ate the burger and most of the fries, and took the soup to go. I also ordered a slice of lemon cake to go. Always support local when you can. They try so hard sometimes, and are willing to do almost anything to earn your business!)

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(I am sitting in a diner and overhear a father and son having an intense conversation in the next booth over.)

Dad: “So… I realise I could have handled our last hangout better.”

Son: “You chopped my hand off, dad.”

Dad: “Yes, but to be fair, you were having a bit of a tantrum.”

Son: “Because you just revealed yourself to me as my dad.”

Dad: “Okay, well, I realise I could have worded that a bit better, too, but to be honest, it’s not my fault I came into your life so late. Your mother–”

Son: “Whom you killed.”

Dad: “What?! I didn’t kill her. She died of a broken heart.”

Son: “How does THAT make any sense?”

Dad: “Well… uhm… I don’t know. It was on the medical report. Anyway, forget your mother. Your aunt and uncle–”

Son: “Whom you killed.”

Dad: “Well, anyway, your aunt and uncle colluded with your old neighbour–”

Son: “Whom you also killed.”

Dad: *sighs* “Look, son, I’m trying here okay. What do you want from me?”

Son: “You could stop oppressing the galaxy, for one thing.”

Dad: “That’s kinda difficult, son. I signed a contract, and then there’s the pension…”

Son: “Ugh, fine. Maybe you could just be nicer to my friends, then.”

Dad: “That I can do! When do we meet them?”

Son: “Never, because they were flying their X-wings, and then guess what happened?”

Dad: “Uh…”

Son: “You killed them.”

Dad: *to non-existent waiter* “Check, please!”