I’m having a hard weekend. My husband left two days ago for a business trip, and it will be our longest separation in ten years of marriage. I slept through my alarm after a rough night’s sleep, and the first thing I saw upon looking at my phone this morning was that the cast list was just posted for a community musical I recently auditioned for, and I’m not on it. All told, I’m starting my day lonely and discouraged.

On top of that, I’m behind on my work-from-home job — even more so now that I’ve overslept — so I put in a [Delivery App] order (a drink, a bagel, and four cake pops) from a coffee shop before sitting down in my home office to work. I live in a gated community, so in the delivery instructions that go with every order, I’ve included the gate code for entrance, as well as specific instructions for how to make the exit gate work as some drivers have found it tricky.

About ten minutes after putting in my order, I receive a message from the delivery driver who’s picking up my order.

Driver: “Hi, [My Name]! I just picked up your order at [Coffee Shop], and I’m on my way! I delivered to you a few days ago, so don’t worry: I know the way and the instructions! I will be there as quickly as possible!”

Me: “Awesome! Drive safe!”

Less than five minutes later, I get another message.

Driver: “Just delivered! Enjoy and have a great day!”

I head to my front door and find the bag with my order… as well as a pile of little bags of candy. Attached to the bag is a sticky note with a cute drawing of a coffee cup and a handwritten message.

Note: “Have a great day, [My Name]! Thank you for always being so nice and appreciative! [Smiley Face] [Heart] – [Driver #1] & [Driver#2], [Delivery App] Drivers”

I began to tear up. This small, sweet gesture was just what I needed when I was down in the dumps.

The tears began to pour in earnest when I got inside and opened the bag to discover that they had also purchased two extra cake pops in a different flavor to be included with my order.

I immediately jumped back on the app to send them a message of thanks — and to double my tip!

This happened about seventeen years ago in a major city in the very south of the Netherlands with a Renault dealership.

I had a new job, and we needed a second car. We bought a new Twingo, a car that went for about €12,000. There were two stipulations in the contract when we bought the car. The first was that we had to get financing through Renault. The second was that three years of maintenance were included. We financed a minor part for three years at 0% interest.

After the first year, I took the car for its first service. I had about 12,000 km on the odometer. When I dropped the car off, I was asked if there was anything that needed attention. I think I answered something like, “Do whatever you need to do…”

In the late afternoon when I picked up the car, three rather bulky men were standing behind the service desk. I remember that they were really focused on me when I was presented with the bill. The bill was for about €1,000. And for a one-year-old car with just 12,000 km! I immediately understood what had happened. They must have figured that they could inflate the bill with all kinds of nonsense maintenance actions since I had given them carte blanche, and to avoid any troubles, they made sure that I could be intimidated by having three people present.

Me: *Very friendly* “May I have my car key, please?”

Representative: “But you have to pay first!”

Me: “No, I don’t. Please may I have my car keys?”

Instead of enlightening them straight away, I kept going like this for a bit longer.

When things started to get a bit unfriendly, I reminded the representative that I had bought the car at this dealership, including three years of maintenance. All three guys turned a few shades paler. They frantically searched for the contract, whispering, and eventually moving away to the office out of earshot.

It took about ten minutes before the representative came back out and handed me my keys.

I ended up getting its third service just before the three years had elapsed, and as soon as I got the title to the car, I traded it in for a car of a different brand. And as you would expect, the bill for the second and third services was less than €300 to €400.

My sister and her husband were building a house, and the builders kept telling her that things she wanted were “against the state building code.” [Sister] read that thing front to back and practically memorized it, so she could call it the lie it was.

Another line the builders kept giving them was, “That’ll hurt your resale value.”

Their big issue was that she and her husband had planned to make the house ADA-adaptable (disability accessible), e.g., wider doors, a wider hallway, etc., and they had the architect draw it that way.

As it turned out, when they eventually had to sell their house, they not only sold it immediately, but they got more money for it since it was already ready for a wheelchair, complete with a ramp. She was a cancer survivor and figured that sooner or later she might end up in a wheelchair. As it turned out, her son lost a leg in an accident and lived with them for a while during his recovery.

My wife and I go to a restaurant to get dinner together for our anniversary. We have a nice meal, the service is good, and we ask for our bill.

The waiter disappears into the back. We wait for about ten minutes and then ask one of the other waiters. He disappears into the back, too. Ten more minutes and neither waiter has returned from the back, so we ask a third waitress. She too disappears into the back and never returns.

At this point, there are only two waitstaff left helping anyone. We flag one down.

Me: “Look, we’ll wait ten more minutes, but we only have a card, no cash, and it’s been a half-hour since we asked for the bill. If one of the waiters we’ve sent to the back doesn’t come out with the bill in ten more minutes, we’re just going assume that the manager intends to comp us for the inconvenience and walk out without paying.”

Waiter: “Oh, please don’t do that.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but we can’t wait forever. We have things we plan to do today, and we’re already well over our budgeted time for eating.”

Waiter: “I’ll be right out with your bill!”

Now, only one waitstaff was at the front, running back and forth from the kitchen. We waited for ten minutes and then packed up and left.

No one contacted us later, and we never returned to that restaurant. They’re still open.

I went to a nice restaurant to celebrate a promotion at work. They seated me in a somewhat awkward area, but I had a nice view out the window, so I didn’t mind.

Halfway through my meal, after my food had been brought out, my waitress vanished. I never got a refill on my drink, and she didn’t come out to present me my bill. I watched faces entering and leaving the kitchen area, and I couldn’t see her at all. I assumed she had gone off shift and the handoff didn’t go correctly.

So, I approached one of the other waitresses and politely asked for my bill. She said she’d be right out with it. I watched her enter and leave the kitchen area multiple times, but she did not bring me my bill. I approached her again and asked for the bill again. She once again repeated that she’d be right out to help me with the bill, and she asked me to please be patient. 

I waited a not-insignificant amount of time, and then I approached another waitress and explained the circumstances. She too said she’d be right out with my bill. She too continued to service her customers and ignore my table.

I approached a third waitress, explained the circumstances, and asked that she please not fob me off like the other two had.

Waitress: “Look, I’m going to be real with you. You’re not seated in my section, so I’m not going to do anything for you. Go ask someone else.”

Me: “Do you know who’s covering the section I’m in?”

Waitress: “Right now?” *Glances at my seat* “No one’s covering that section right now.”

Me: “Can you get the manager to bring me out the bill?”

Waitress: *Practically growling* “No. I’m busy with my section. Find someone else to help you. Good day.”

I was so flummoxed by her hostility that it short-circuited my brain a little bit, and I was out the door with my stuff before I remembered that I was looking for someone to help me pay. At that point, standing on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant, I sighed, shrugged to myself, and walked off.

I’ve never been back. Some friends have recommended the place to me, but I’m worried that they might have a big picture of me on the wall saying, “Dine and Dasher — do not serve this person!”