I’ve booked a large party for my birthday meal at a pricey but nice restaurant. It’s mostly celebrating my recovery from a traumatic illness. The booking is for thirty adults and my toddler daughter; this was specified at booking and written on the booking. We’ve arranged a £40 per-person three-course menu and plan to set up a tab for a free bar. As we know the manager, we are only charged a £50 deposit for the whole thing.

The night arrives and my husband and I go to the restaurant thirty minutes early with our daughter to set up the tab. As we go in the new manager rushes over and loudly exclaims:

New Manager: “No children! This is an adult-only venue!” 

Husband: “No, sorry, we’re booked in as the party of thirty; she is on the booking.”

New Manager: “No! That’s not possible! I don’t allow children here! You’ll have to take her home!”

Husband: “And do what, exactly?! Leave her with the dog? Look, we are booked in for the function room for thirty people; she won’t even be in the main restaurant.”

New Manager: “Are you deaf?! No means no! Sort out your brat or leave!” 

Me: “Darling, that’s fine.” *To the manager* “Sure, we’re leaving. Just to confirm, though, none of our party will be coming here now. You will not have another penny from us, and you believe me, I will make sure this gets back to the owner.”

New Manager: “You can’t threaten me! You have to pay the balance! You can’t cancel!” 

Me: “You either apologise for this scene and allow my daughter or we are leaving and you can explain why you’ve lost all out on our money tonight.”

New Manager: “She’s not coming in here! You have to pay or I’ll call the police!”

Me: “Then call them. You have my contact details.” 

We left and had a rather squashed pizza party at our house, instead. Though I would have liked to go out to eat for the first time in ages, the pizza was good and my daughter had a blast. The owner called a week later and was so apologetic, offered us a free meal, and said the manager had been let go.

I am an Italian tourist in New York. Although I am twenty-five, I look younger than that, and I do know about the strict liquor laws in the US, so I make sure I carry my passport around everywhere I go.

One evening, my friends and I decide to go to a restaurant. As we order some wine, we are asked for our IDs. My friends are from the US, so they show their driver’s licenses, while I show my passport.

Waiter: “Could I see your driver’s license, too?”

Me: *Confused* “All right.”

I pull out my Italian driver’s license and show it to him.

Waiter: “No, your American driver’s license.”

Me: “I don’t have one; I don’t live here. I’m just a tourist. But this is my passport…”

Waiter: “We only accept state-issued driver’s licenses, sorry.”

Me: “Okay, but I don’t live here?”

We didn’t know what else to say, and I didn’t want to cause any drama, so I just ordered a soft drink and left it at that. But seriously, not everyone is American!

I manage a financial department, and I recently promised my team that if they exceeded their collections goal, the company would treat them to a very upscale Italian restaurant that we all love. They exceed the goal by a lot — good for them! — so I make a reservation for the sixteen of us.

The day of our outing, we are seated right away and the server takes our drink order.

Server: “I’m so sorry, but the person who was supposed to be helping me didn’t show up, so I’ll have to handle your party, plus my regular station, on my own. Will you be paying together or on separate checks?”

She looks visibly relieved when I tell her that I will be paying for everything on one check.

Our ordering is a little chaotic. People will give their orders and then hear someone else order something that sounds better, so they’ll ask to change their orders. There is also a lot of, “I’ll split mine with you if you’ll split yours with me,” going on.

We are busy having fun and conversation, so none of us mind that the drink refills, appetizers, entrees, and desserts are a little slow. The food is delicious and we enjoy it very much. It comes time for the bill and, as was explained to me when I made the reservation, the restaurant has added an 18% gratuity to the bill. The bill comes to about $650 before the 18% tip and I give her my credit card.

She returns with my receipt and thanks us and apologizes that our service was a little slow. We tell her everything was perfect and thank her for working so hard. She has been so nice to us and so accommodating and so patient that I leave an additional $150 cash tip in the receipt folder and we head out to the parking lot.

All of a sudden, the waitress comes running out of the restaurant and grabs my arm. I’m thinking I forgot to sign the receipt or something when I notice she has tears in her eyes. She thanks me profusely for the tip and says she really didn’t expect it; she’s had a tough time lately and the tip will really help her out. This was a nice pat on the back for me and a real heartwarmer for all of us.

This story is part of our Feel Good roundup for January 2021!

Read the next Feel Good roundup for January 2021 story!

Read the Feel Good roundup for January 2021!

I will start by saying that I realize I was a jerk to the fraud agent that I spoke to in this story. My brain-to-mouth filter broke when she revealed herself to be extra stupid.

I travel quite frequently — every six months or so — back and forth from New York to Russia where some of my family lives, and I always put a travel advisory on my account prior to travel.

I use my credit card in a supermarket in Moscow. I then try to use it to buy something from another store and it doesn’t go through. I look at my bank’s app to find that my card is frozen. I call the bank and speak to the fraud department.

Fraud Agent: “We froze your card because it was used in an unknown location.” 

Me: “Oh, really? Where?”

Fraud Agent: “Moscow.”

Me: “Uh, don’t I have a travel advisory on my account?”

Fraud Agent: “Well, yes, but that was for Russia, not Moscow.”

I stared at my phone for a minute wondering if someone could possibly be this stupid.

Me: “Uh, Moscow is in Russia. Now please unfreeze my card.”

Fraud Agent: “Oh, we can’t do that. Once it’s frozen due to fraud, we have to send you a new card.”

I lose it. I definitely am THAT customer.

Me: “Let me get this straight. You’re a moron who doesn’t realize that Moscow is the capital of Russia, which I have a travel advisory for, and have had a travel advisory for every six months for the past ten years I’ve had the card, so you froze the card because you can’t read a f****** map? Now you are telling me you have to send me a new card, even though I am out of the country and obviously won’t get it until I get home two weeks from now?”

She speaks in a sweet way like what I just said made perfect sense.

Fraud Agent: “That’s right. Anything else I can help you with?”

Me: “Uh, yes, you can transfer me to your manager and buy yourself a globe.”

The supervisor was able to unfreeze the card and cancel the new card, and they apologized for the issue. I feel bad that I lost it on the fraud agent, but I seriously could not believe that she was that dumb. What’s worse, there are actually two people in the fraud department that need geography lessons: the one who froze the card in the first place and the woman who answered the phone.

My sister and I are getting lunch at a restaurant. Our waitress is taking our order when this happens.

Waitress: “What will you be having?”

Sister: “Just a burger and fries.”

Waitress: “How would you like that cooked?”

Sister: “Medium, please.”

Waitress: “Sir?”

Me: “I’ll have the roasted chicken with potatoes, please.”

Waitress: “And how would you like that done?”

Me: “Wha?”

Waitress: “How would you like that done?”

Me: “I’m confused…”

My sister is now doubled over with laughter.

Waitress: *Mildly annoyed* “How. Well. Would. You. Like. Your. Chicken. Done?”

Me: *Amused now* “Let’s go for well-done.”

Waitress: *Snarkily* “Coming right up.”

Unfortunately — fortunately? — my roasted chicken did not come out burned to a crisp but was rather moist and tasty.