(It’s the slow period after the lunch rush, and there are only a handful of customers in the dining room, including a woman with three children. I’m sweeping and cleaning tables when, to my horror, I see the woman put her youngest child up on the table and start getting ready to change his diaper, right next to her food, no less. I am stunned into silence for a few seconds but thankfully come to my senses before she can get the diaper off.)

Me: “Ma’am!”

Customer: “Huh?”

Me: *still somewhat in shock* “We… have changing tables in the restroom.”

Customer: “Oh, no, thanks. I don’t want to take him all the way over there.”

(Granted, she’s sitting on the opposite side of the building from the bathrooms, but it’s a short trip and would take maybe ten or fifteen seconds even at a slow pace.)

Me: “I’m sorry, but for sanitary reasons, I really can’t let you change him in the dining room.”

Customer: *looking bewildered* “Okay.”

(She packed up her diaper bag and went to the restroom, but I still thoroughly sanitized that table the second she and her kids left, extremely grateful that this hadn’t happened during a busy time. The strange thing is, she was perfectly friendly the whole time and just seemed confused that she couldn’t change her baby on a restaurant table. Makes me wonder what places have allowed her to do that before.)

(The floor in our play area is a spongy rubber material. While it’s a fun color and cushions falls very well, it is an absolute nightmare to clean if any kind of liquid gets on it. Because of this, we have a strict “no food or drink in the play area” policy. Some customers simply don’t notice the sign and are very understanding when we inform them of the rule, and we rarely have anyone give us trouble because of it. As I’m bringing another customer their food, I notice a woman entering the play area with two children, and she and the older kid are both carrying drinks. I follow them in.)

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but we don’t allow drinks in here. I can take them back to your table if you’d like so you don’t have to leave.”

Customer: “Where does it say that?”

(I point to the — rather large — sign on the door.)

Customer: “Well, my kids will be careful. It’ll be fine.”

(She takes the drink from the older child so he can go play, setting it and her own drink precariously on a bench next to her while she takes off the younger’s shoes.)

Me: *nervously half-reaching for the cups* “Ma’am, please let me take those for you. If they get spilled, I’ll have to—“

Customer: *nonchalantly* “It’s fine.”

(Before I can get another word in, the child she’s holding gets squirmy and kicks both drinks onto the floor, and the liquid completely soaks a large section of the floor.)

Customer: “Oh, sorry. Get me some paper towels and I’ll clean it up for you.”

Me: “Actually, I have to ask you to leave so I can close the play area.”

Customer: *suddenly irritated* “What? Why? It’s not soda; it’s just lemonade!”

Me: “Which is extremely sticky. Regardless of what drink it was, I have to close this section so I can clean.”

Customer: *angrily* “I don’t understand. Just get a mop and work around us!”

Me: “A mop won’t do me any good. This floor is basically a giant sponge; any liquid gets absorbed past the surface almost instantly, so we have to use a steam cleaner to get it out.”

Customer: “Okay, so work around us!”

Me: “I’m sorry, but I can’t have anyone else in here while I’m using it. It’s very hot, and you have to be careful with it.”

(I turn to two other moms playing with their kids, who have been silently watching the whole conversation.)

Me: “Sorry, ladies, we’re going to have to close the play area for a while to clean up a spill.”

Customer #2: “Sure!”

Customer #3: “No problem.”

(The first woman continued to fume as everyone filed out, but the other two moms gave her some less-than-friendly looks as they left.)

Customer #2’s Kid: *seeing the spill* “Mommy, who had a drink in here? There’s no drinks allowed!”

(I guess no one can say the rule is hard to understand!)

(My coworker told me this story while we were talking about parents’ tendency to bring extremely ill children shopping with them during cold and flu season. A woman and a young boy come to my coworker’s register, and the boy is rather pale and very obviously does not look well. The customer sets him on the counter while she orders.)

Child: “Mommy, I’m gonna throw up.”

Customer: “You’re fine, [Child]. You just need food is all.”

Coworker: *not wanting an incident involving a sick child* “The bathrooms are right over there if he’s not feeling—“

(The customer’s food arrives and she grabs a fry and stuffs it in the kid’s mouth. He weakly tries to eat it but ends up vomiting all over the counter.)

Customer: “[Child], that’s disgusting! You won’t be watching any TV tonight, since you made a mess that this nice lady had to clean up.”

(The child started to cry, and the mom made the poor kid wait while she sat and ate her food. And of course, the woman didn’t lift a finger to help clean up the mess.)

(At my store, the drive-thru sends employees outside with iPads to take orders when it’s busy, since this saves a lot of time by letting us move down the line instead of taking one car at a time at the speaker box. We still try to go out even in inclement weather, but we do have a ton of special equipment to make rain, snow, and cold much more manageable, and we rotate employees out in 20-minute shifts if they need it. Also, no one is ever forced to go outside in bad weather; we will send someone else or just take orders on the headsets if our other choices decline. I’m outside taking orders one particularly nasty day, when it’s 10 degrees Fahrenheit, snowing, and windy. I’m perfectly happy, since it’s less hectic outside even when it’s busy, and I’m wearing about four layers and a heated vest, and have hand warmers in my gloves, so I’m actually pretty comfortable. I approach the next car to take their order, and the woman driving looks horrified.)

Customer: “Oh, my! Why are you out here in this weather, dear?”

Me: “I’m taking orders today, ma’am. I love snow, so this is actually pretty exciting!”

Customer: “I can’t believe they would make a young lady work out here in these conditions! This is just terrible!”

Me: “Actually, they never force anyone to be out here. In fact, I was scheduled to work inside, but I volunteered to come out since I like it. Plus, I’m actually very warm. My vest and gloves are both heated.”

Customer: “This treatment of employees is just appalling! I can’t give my money to a company like this; I’m going elsewhere. You quit while you can, dear. You don’t have to let them treat you this way.”

(She pulled out of the line and drove off, and I assumed that was the end of it, but she apparently took a photo of myself and my coworker, who is also a young woman, working outside in the snow as she left. She posted that photo to Facebook later that day and caused a huge fuss about “proper treatment of employees.” I appreciate her concern, but she created a mess for us because she failed to mention everything I had told her, which caused unrest with some other customers that took some time to fix.)

(A woman brings her family in with her in the middle of our lunch rush and orders for herself, her husband, and her two sons. She asks for a #5 combo meal, which is a hamburger with cheese and bacon. The #6, right next to it on the menu, is a chicken sandwich. I read her family’s order back to her, giving the meal numbers exactly as she had given them to me, and she agrees that the order is correct. Not long after their lunch is brought out to them, I see her and her husband arguing and gesturing in the direction of the counter. I overhear bits of what’s being said and gather enough to know that she is unhappy with her food and mentally prepare for the complaints. She stands up from her table quickly followed by her husband.)

Husband: “Did she repeat your order?”

Wife: “Yes.”

Husband: “And did you correct her and ask for the chicken, instead?”

Wife: “No. But she should’ve known!”