(I am a half-bystander in this exchange. There’s a little diner where I live that’s moderately famous amongst the locals for staying virtually the same as when it opened fifty years before. Literally the only thing that’s changed in the place is a single window that got broken by kids throwing rocks. Of the things that haven’t changed, security cameras still remain the same: non-existent. On this day, I’ve beaten the lunch rush and am sitting in a booth with my brother reading the paper when I hear the following.)

Cashier: “Ack! Sir, you can’t do that!”

Guy: “Shut up and get my order in!”

Cashier: “I told you, sir: we just finished breakfast. Lunch items won’t be ready for another twenty minutes. Please get back outside the counter.”

(I sit up and turn around to see one of the boys from the high school standing halfway behind the counter and bearing down on the tiny waitress, who is doing a pretty good job of glaring defiantly at him. Realizing the problem, I pull out my phone and immediately start recording.)

Guy: “I can do whatever the h*** I want, b****. Tell that fat chef to make me my f****** burger or I’ll come back there and rearrange your face! You wanna be holding your own f****** teeth?”

Cashier: “Sir, you realize you’re on camera right now, don’t you?”

Guy: *grabs her arm* “Ain’t no f****** cameras in this s***-hole! GET ME MY F****** BURGER!”

Me: “Smile!”

(The guy whirls around and freezes when he sees my camera phone pointed in his direction. He immediately starts over to grab it, but my brother gets up out of his seat, revealing all 6’1” of himself to the kid. He backs down, swears and takes off out of the restaurant. We later turned the footage over to the authorities who quickly caught the kid. A few weeks later, I saw the diner had installed security cameras. Gee, I wonder what made them change their minds?)

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(I work in a diner-style restaurant. I wait on a couple mid-afternoon, during the slower part of the day, when there’s not much staff on. Everything seems normal, and since it isn’t busy, it is easy to keep a close eye on their needs, refill drinks, bring the food right out, and so on. I have side-work to do, but it is all things to be done in the front, like straightening up the area where we dish up soup and salad. This is right in front of the pass-through to the kitchen, so I am basically in sight the whole time. I have asked them a couple of times if everything is all right, and have been assured that it was. When they come to the register to pay, the manager on duty is manning the register.)

Manager: “Afternoon, folks. Was everything all right with your meal?”

Customer: “No! Our waitress was horrible. She was always in the back, and we didn’t get refills on our drinks, and our food sat in the window for about 15 minutes before she finally came out and brought it to us!”

Manager: “I’m sorry to hear that; that doesn’t sound like her. Let me just verify that with the cook, and I’ll be happy to comp that for you.”

Manager: *to cook* “Hey, [Cook], I gotta cheeseburger with fries and an open-face beef with mash. These guys say [My Name] let it sit in the window and dry out. How long was the order up here?”

Cook: *with a snort* “How about… zero seconds? She was straightening the salad station when I said she was up, and I put the plates right in her hands. They literally didn’t even touch the window.”

Manager: *to customers* “Folks, my cook says they didn’t sit at all, much less 15 minutes, so I’m not going to be able to comp these for you after all. That’ll be [amount], please.”

Customer: “Are you going to take his word over mine?”

Manager: “Yes, I am!”

Customer: “Are you calling me a liar?”

Manager: “Well, since I caught you in a lie about this, and I can see from here that your glasses on the table are still half full, so either you didn’t need a refill or you did get one when you said you didn’t. I suppose that would also be a yes. Yes, I am.”

(The customer fumes, but tosses a $20 down, and gets his change.)

Customer: “I can’t believe this place. We are NEVER coming here again!”

Manager: “Promises, promises.”

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(My dad and I are driving through Maryland and stop at a 24 hours diner around 10 pm.)

Waitress: *handing us menus* “So, what can I get you?”

Dad: “Oh, I don’t know. What’s good here?”

Waitress: “Nothing, really.”

Dad: “So, I guess we should go eat somewhere else, huh?”

(We are in a 24-hour diner late at night after driving all day, My dad decides it’s a good time to give my younger sister some advice about the birds and the bees, since she’s at that age.”

Dad: “And don’t let anyone pressure you into doing something you’re not ready for! Remember: at the end of the day, you just have to love and respect yourself and no one can hurt you!”

Sister: *quite embarrassed* “Okay, dad.”

Dad: *seeing me not paying attention* “[My Name], do you love yourself?”

Me: “Frequently.”

(Cue laughter from nearby tables.)

(A local diner has been in business for almost 30 years, but has had a succession of owners and name changes every five or so years. It’s a running joke that it alternates; one owner/group is fabulous, the next one is awful, etc. I have friends in from out of town and, as it’s in a ‘good period,’ take them over. We have been sitting nearly twenty minutes waiting for the waitress to take more than our drink order.)

Me: “Does the steak-burger in the specials come with soup AND a salad, or only one of them?”

Waitress: “Yes.”

Me: “Which one?”

Waitress: “What do you mean?”

Me: “I wanted to know A or B and you said ‘yes.'”

Waitress: “Right. It comes with whatever.”

Me: “I’ll just have the chicken noodle soup with it. Thanks.”

(This procedure repeats for both of my friends. Two of us order soup, and one orders a Caesar salad. When it arrives, another fifteen minutes later, not only do we each have a soup we didn’t order, but the Caesar salad is a pile of iceberg lettuce with no dressing and just a couple of croutons.)

Me: “Can we speak to the manager, please!?”

(ANOTHER ten minutes later, the manager finally arrives. I’ve never seen him before.)

Manager: “Is there a problem here?”

Me: “Yeah. We’ve been here for almost forty-five minutes now. We’ve only gotten our sodas, soup, and salad. Not only were we given the three-bean soup, which NEITHER of us ordered, but that isn’t a Caesar salad.

Manager: “Well, that’s how we make a Caesar, and that is the only soup we have left.”

Friend #1: “What? Dude it’s not even 9:30 yet and you’re ‘out of soup’?”

Manager: “Yep.”

Friend #2: “And, you know, Caesar salad is supposed to be made with Romaine lettuce, with Caesar dressing? It’s in the name!”

Manager: “Like I said, that’s how we do it.”

Me: “Yeah. Do you know if the owners ever come in, or if there’s a way I can contact them?”

Manager: *smiling proudly* “Actually, as of last week I’m the new owner here!”

(I slap my hands on the table and yell out.)

Me: “I SHOULDA KNOWN!”

(All three of us got up to leave. The owner then tried to insist that we pay not only for the soups and salad we didn’t eat, but for the main courses that were ‘almost ready’… AND ALSO WEREN’T THE RIGHT THINGS!)