Anyone in my industry knows that the Sunday post-church crowd is the ABSOLUTE WORST. This family comes in, dressed in their Sunday best, and orders a round of drinks. I am quitting this job soon, so I have become a bit… sassier.

Me: “Certainly, ma’am. I’ll just go get those for you.”

Customer: “Uh, excuse me! We would like to order our food, too!”

Me: “Absolutely! What are you having?”

Customer: “I don’t quite like your tone. Patience is a virtue, my dear. You’d know that if you were in Church today.”

Me: “My job title is literally waiter, ma’am. I’m here waiting for you to give me your order.”

Customer: “How dare you?! Get me your manager!”

Me: “He’s busy taking orders, ma’am. Can you wait?”

Customer: “Get him here right this instant!“

Me: “Not possible, ma’am. Please be patient; it’s a virtue, remember?”

She waited while glaring. Her complaint was told to the manager who casually laughed it off once they were gone.

I have a new job as a server at a tiny local diner. The place is so small we usually have one server on shift at a time unless it’s a weekend.

I had a young couple come in with their daughter the other day. The little girl looked about five and was super bubbly, chatty, and adorable. The parents were friendly and the little girl was very well behaved.

When I dropped off their food, the little girl decided she couldn’t eat the hot dog because it was on a burger bun. We had run out of the right buns and I did let the parents know and they okayed it. But when you’re five, a hot dog on a burger bun is a sin against God and science, so it was now chicken strips she needed. As I started back to the kitchen, she asked if she would still get fries and said something about liking the animal they come from. I started laughing (so did her folks) and told her she would still get fries, and off I went.

Everything was great after that and, when I went to drop off their bill, I wrote on the back, “What animal does the French fry come from?” A few minutes later, the girl came running up to my counter.

Girl: “The lemon!”

She was excited but trying to be super serious.

Me: “What lemon?”

Girl: “The lemon animal!”

Me: “…makes the French fry?”

Girl: “Yes!”

Translation: “Obviously!”

Me: “Oh, thank you for clearing that up. That’s important information!”

As she ran off, I could hear her parents cracking up, and I had to slip into the back to laugh without hurting the little one’s feelings.

These little moments are why I love this job.

The story comes courtesy of my mom. After her prom in the 1970s, she and her date and a bunch of friends went out to a local diner to get some food. They weren’t being terribly loud or troublesome, but an old man in the corner still decided to grumble about noisy kids and disrespectful youth and all that sort of thing. 

Mom, being the mature and responsible teenager that she was, made a suggestion to her friends. Her idea was to pool all the change they had with them, load it into the jukebox, and queue up Amazing Grace. On the bagpipes. Seventeen times. 

They did it.

She’s not sorry.

My first job is as a server at a very popular twenty-four-hour breakfast diner chain. We have lots of colorful customers. One morning, I’m serving a woman sitting by herself.

Me: “What can I get you?”

Customer: “I’d like an omelet.”

We have a list of pre-built omelets, or you can build your own.

Me: “How would you like your omelet?”

Customer: “Just a regular omelet, please.”

Me: “Okay, so you don’t want one of the signature omelets. What would you like inside of yours?”

Customer: *With a huff* “Nothing, just a regular omelet.”

I pause for a second because this order does occur but not often. Some people like their eggs scrambled, cooked, and then rolled up.

Me: “So you’d like an omelet with nothing inside?”

Customer: *Irritated* “YES! A plain omelet!”

I enter the order: a five-egg omelet with no fillings and no toppings. A few minutes later, it comes out, and she is appalled.

Customer: “What is this?!”

Me: “Your plain omelet.”

Customer: *Irate* “But where is the cheese, or the ham, or the onions?!”

Me: “Ma’am, you ordered an omelet with nothing inside…”

Customer: *Cocky* “An omelet is eggs rolled up with ham, cheese, and onions! Everything else is extra! You should know this, working at a breakfast place!”

Me: *Deadpan* “Actually, ma’am, ‘omelet’ is French for scrambled eggs that are fried and rolled or folded; everything else is extra.”

I was busy, so I walked off and helped other colorful customers. Meanwhile, she flagged down a manager to complain, who confirmed what I had told her and pointed out that on the menu there is, very specifically, a ham, cheese, and onion omelet with a large picture in the middle of the page. Then, he told her she’d have to reorder her meal and wait a second time.

She didn’t leave a tip.

Years ago, we were holidaying in America and stopped in one of those roadside diners. We would tip back home in the UK (for particularly good service), but we know the expectation is much higher here so we bear that in mind during our trip.

Unfortunately, our waitress was just rude, lazy, and obnoxious. She rolled her eyes as we asked to not have onions on our burgers, scoffed at our pronunciation (of an English word), lied about being “out” of the side we ordered, and then refused to ask the kitchen to make it.

It felt like we were a burden rather than a guest. When the bill came round, we noticed that the gratuity was already added.

Me: “Sorry, but there is no way I’m paying a single penny tipping you.”

Waitress: “Well, I’m not removing it!”

Me: “Just get the manager.”

She put her hands on her hips.

Waitress: “He’s not here today.”

Me: “Fine. Call the police.”

Waitress: “You foreigners come here… I knew from the minute you walked in that you wouldn’t be worth my time. You never tip, you always leave a mess… Fine! I’ll take the tip off, seeing as you clearly couldn’t possibly afford a few dollars.”

Me: “You want a tip? Try not being terrible at your job.”

We paid and left. Afterward, we checked the reviews. Unsurprisingly, lots of other people said the same thing happened to them, all of them tourists.