(My friends and I, all in our late teens, all somewhat goth/punk looking, had gone to see one of the Final Destination movies in the cinema. For those who missed them, they’re basically movies about people dying in the most ridiculous ways possible. Afterwards, we decide to grab some dinner and go to a nearby pizza place — a bit more fancy than we usually frequent, but open late and tasty. There is only one other group of people at a nearby table, and one of the men seems to suffer from tics. It is impossible not to notice since one involved him randomly shouting “HA!” every few minutes. The first time that happens we look over, but realizing that his friends seem to take it as normal, we ignore them. I happened to have watched a documentary on Tourette syndrome just the night before, so I figure we shouldn’t ruin his night by staring. My friends and I never discuss it, but simply pay attention to our own conversation. As the other group gets up to leave, the guy with the tics and a woman come over to our table. We shut up immediately, realizing our conversation had become quite loud and rowdy (what with being in high spirits and discussing all the ways in which people could die in the middle of a restaurant…) and we think they are about to tell us off.)

Man: “Hey, guys, I just wanted to thank you for leaving us in peace tonight and not making a big deal of my tics.”

Friend #1: “Oh, but you shouldn’t thank us. It’s common courtesy, isn’t it?”

Man: “You’d think so, but most people stare at what they don’t know.”

Friend #2: “Maybe that’s it. I watched a show about Tourette syndrome just the other night, and they interviewed several people who have it.”

Friend #3: “Wait, you watched that show, too?”

Me: “So did I… Wow, that’s odd. It was really interesting, though!”

(The man was looking increasingly happy listening to our exchange, but it was the woman next to him who started laughing. She gave him a little shove and he smiled sheepishly, then mimed polishing a shoe. How did we know what the movement meant? Well…)

Friend #1: “Hang on. That was you in the programme, wasn’t it.”

Man: “Um, yeah.”

Woman: “And he’s been so nervous about the show airing, you wouldn’t believe it. He was afraid people would make fun of him.”

(We all assured him that he had no reason to be nervous or ashamed or anything. It WAS a good show that illustrated the various tics people might suffer from and how it impacted all areas of their lives, and shame was a big part of it. As they left you could tell the guy was much happier, and we were simply stunned that without discussing it, we’d all happened to watch the same show and draw the same conclusions from it… AND happened to meet that guy that night.)

(I’m a fussy eater, because I’m on a strict regimen of counting my calories. We’re eating at a chain restaurant. It’s a somewhat busy Tuesday night, and there’s only one waitress. There is a manager, but he’s doing absolutely nothing to help her.)

Uncle: “What are the soups today?”

Waitress: “Just the vegetable beef; we’re out of the chicken noodle.”

(I had planned to have chicken noodle soup and grilled chicken, so I spend an age trying to work out what I can have that fits my calorie budget for dinner. All the while, the waitress is standing at the table, dancing back and forth as if impatient – understandable – and finally she says she’ll put my aunt’s and uncle’s orders in and come back for me. Perfectly understandable. Eventually, I check the numbers on the vegetable beef soup and find out it fits my original plan, barely.)

Waitress: *comes back* “So, know what you’re having?”

Me: “Give me the grilled chicken dinner, with a bowl of the vegetable beef and two sides of steamed zucchini and squash.”

(She leaves, and I finish my coffee quickly. As expected, my aunt’s and uncle’s orders get there before my meal, and I ask for a refill. She says it’ll be just a minute. Five minutes later, I get exasperated waiting, and get up to go and buy a coffee at the truck stop to which the restaurant is attached. By the time I get back, my coffee’s been filled, and my meal has arrived – with sautéed zucchini and squash. I flag the waitress down when she’s on her way back to the kitchen from serving someone else their meal.)

Me: “Excuse me, this zucchini and squash is sautéed.”

Waitress: *gives me a blank look*

Aunt: “He ordered steamed.”

Waitress: “Well, it’s the same stuff. What’s the difference?”

Me: “About a hundred calories.”

(This is a lot, when it’s about 8% of your daily calorie budget and you’re already running up against your ceiling.)

Waitress: *rolls her eyes and takes it away*

(She then returns after serving another customer; not only is it still sautéed zucchini and squash, I’m pretty sure it’s the exact same plate, just heated up and, if anything, sautéed a bit more.)

Me: *thinking* “I guess some people think they’re the protagonist in a Not Always Right story, and the customer’s a fussy dumb-a***.”

Me: *to a coworker* “Can I make a public service announcement for our drive-thru customers?”

Coworker: “Saying what?”

Me: “You don’t realize it but… I can see all the trash piled up in your car floors. I can also see that you’re not wearing any pants.”

(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.)