CONTENT WARNING: Implications of racist violence

This happened in 2013 when I first moved to South Carolina from New York. I was naive when it came to racist terms because where I am from, these things weren’t a problem like they are here.

I had just gotten a job at a small local diner. One night, we were close to closing, and I only had two tables. One was a very sweet and respectful POC family that included a mom, a dad, two teens, and a child about nine. The other group was three guys who looked like they had just gotten done hunting.

The guys kept talking about coon hunting, and my naive self thought they literally meant they had been hunting for raccoons. I heard one say, “Well, it looks like we don’t have to go very far to finish up our coon hunting,” and they all started to laugh. The sweet family kept looking at them and just had these horribly sad expressions on their faces, and the kids looked like they were in tears.

That is when it clicked what was going on.

The three guys had not gotten their plates yet. I walked over to them and told them that they would not be getting their food, nor would they EVER get served as long as I was there. I told them if they didn’t get their scumbag a**es out of my diner, I would have them escorted out. They tried to say they didn’t mean what I thought they did, but they clearly did, and they finally left.

The POC family thanked me over and over, and I apologized profusely for not realizing what was happening sooner, but I was from NY and was not familiar with racist terms like that. They tipped me a fifty-dollar bill that I didn’t want to take, but they insisted, and they returned often as long as I was there. They refused any other server besides me, which made me feel wonderful.

I am blown away how scumbags like those three still exist in this world!

My bosses are horrible people, so I just knew I was going to get fired, but surprisingly, they told me I had done the right thing and were not upset at all.

Right after I got out of the Army, I worked at a fast-food/diner place for a few months. One of the items on the menu was a roast beef sandwich.

As most of the menu items were burgers, they went through a flame broiler. The roast beef sandwich was heated in a microwave, though. I was working the night shift.

Customer: “I want the roast beef, but you better not microwave it! You gonna heat that in the broiler for me.”

Me: “Well, given the thinness and type of meat that’s going to be impossible to do.”

Customer: “Make it possible.”

Me: “Why do you not want it microwaved?”

Customer: “Because microwaves are made by nuclear energy, and radiation will make me sick!”

I am about to tell him how microwaves really work, when I catch my manager’s gaze. She subtly shakes her head no. I walked around to where the cook is.

Manager: *Whispering.* “What’s going on.?”

Me: “He needs his roast beef cooked in the broiler.”

Manager: “Okay.”

He then fiddles at the back of the broiler for a few seconds and says:

Manager: “Roast beef is in.”

He then puts the sandwich in the microwave and heats it. I then served it to him. 

A few days later, he comes back in and orders another one. Once again, I make a big show of making his sandwich special.

Me: “Does flame-broiled taste better than a microwaved one?”

Customer: “Oh, yeah. I can taste the difference!”

Yeah… sure you can, dude.

Related:
Placebo Me, Part 8
Placebo Me, Part 7
Placebo Me, Part 6
Placebo Me, Part 5
Placebo Me, Part 4

I work in a chain diner that’s known for being open 24/7. Today is New Year’s Eve.

Customer: “Will you be open tonight?”

Me: “Yes, sir.”

Customer: “All night?”

Me: “Yes, sir.”

Customer: “Even through midnight?”

Me: “Yes, sir.”

Customer: “Haha, sucks to be you!”

Me: “Actually, my shift finishes at six.”

Customer: *Disappointed.* “Oh…”

Me: “Did you come in here just to flex on someone who has to work over New Year?”

Customer: “You make it sound like it’s bad.”

Me: “Well it’s not exactly cool.”

Customer: “Can I speak to your manager?”

Wanting to wash my hands of this I bring my manager over. They talk for less than a minute and then my manager comes over and looks confused.

Manager: “He just asked me if I was working at New Year’s. When I said yes he just said “sucks to be you”.”

Me: “Yeah he tried that with me, too. Did you say anything?”

Manager: “Yeah, I told him if the only joy he gets in the world is to come into diners and laugh at people who have to work on a holiday then it very much sucks more to be him. He just walked out after that…”

Related:
Some People Just Want To Watch The World Burn, Part 33
Some People Just Want To Watch The World Burn, Part 32
Some People Just Want To Watch The World Burn, Part 31
Some People Just Want To Watch The World Burn, Part 30
Some People Just Want To Watch The World Burn, Part 29

This story reminded me of an incident that happened just a few weeks ago. My uncle is in his early seventies, and this time of year, he gets a lot of wide-eyed looks from small children when they see a fat man with long white hair and a bushy white beard and mustache, even if he is usually wearing a cowboy hat and jeans. He even has an “official” North Pole ID card identifying him as Santa Claus, even though he doesn’t play Santa professionally anymore.

Every Saturday, my uncle, my mother, and I go to a local diner for breakfast. On this particular morning, just a couple of days after Thanksgiving, as we are on our way to the booth we’ve been directed to, we pass an older couple finishing up their breakfast. The husband ALSO looks a great deal like Santa Claus; his beard is a little longer, his hairline is a little more receded, and he’s wearing suspenders.

I don’t really think anything of it or notice the small child in the high chair who’s looking back and forth between my uncle and the old man who was already there, but apparently, the other man does. Right after we sit down, he catches my uncle’s eye and beckons to him. My uncle crosses the aisle, and they have a conversation and both of them laugh before he comes back to our table, sits down, and leans toward my mom and me.

Uncle: *Quietly* “We’re about to do a bit. Hang on.”

A few moments later, the couple gets up, and the husband crosses the aisle, comes up to our table, and speaks in a voice loud enough to be heard but not so loud as to make it obvious he’s drawing attention to himself.

Old Man: “See you, Junior!”

Uncle: “Bye, Pop!”

Old Man: “Be good!”

He turns to the waitress standing just behind him, coming to take our drink order.

Old Man: “That’s my son.”

The couple walked out, and I finally noticed several small children who looked absolutely delighted to have seen Santa Claus AND Santa Junior.

As a funny side note: My uncle’s birthday is Christmas Eve, and his mother used to tell people that Santa dropped him down the chimney.

About four days before Christmas, we plaster our front door in 8.5/11″ signs saying “Closing at 4 PM for Holiday party, see you tomorrow!”.

On the day, I arrive at the party, get a drink, and start to mingle. I watch as a random guy breezes through the door, sits in a booth, and starts staring at his phone.

Me: *To the manager.* “Uh, that guy just—”

Manager: “—yeah, I saw him. You don’t know him since he’s always here late and you’re opening shift, but he’s the worst customer we’ve ever had.”

Me: “Oh wait, is he the guy that made [New Hire] cry and quit after a week?”

Manager: “That’s him.”

Me: “What an a**hole. Want me to kick him out?”

Manager: “Actually, I want to try something.”

Word slowly goes around the party that this jerk has waltzed into our holiday party and is expecting service. As we do, we all slowly quieten down and just… stare at him. 

After about five minutes, he looks up to see a whole room of smartly dressed people all creepily staring at him, silent as a mouse.

Customer: “Uh… the f***? Where’s the service?”

All of us continue to stare. Even the music has stopped.

Customer: “What the f*** is going on?!”

Still staring. I think some of us have started smiling creepily.

Customer: “F*** this place! Y’all f****** insane!”

He storms out and as soon as the door slams behind him the music and chatter resumes. That was the start of a great party!

Related:
The Nightmare Before Christmas, Part 3
The Nightmare Before Christmas, Part 2
The Nightmare Before Christmas