(One night, both of my parents come home late from work. I am in the car with my dad, while my other three siblings ride with my mom, who drives a silver minivan. They decide over the phone to go to the same drive-thru place. My dad notices her pulling in behind him, and gets an idea. We pull up to the window.)

Cashier: “Hello, that’s going to be [total mentioned over the speaker].”

Dad: *smiling* “I’d like to pay for my wife behind me, as well, please.”

Cashier: “Sure, no problem. Their total is [total that doesn’t sound abnormal for four people].”

Dad: “That’s fine.”

(He pays and we drive into the parking lot. We call my mom.)

Dad: “Hey, did you pay yet?”

Mom: “No, we aren’t at the window yet.”

Dad: “Huh?”

(That’s when we turned around and saw a guy in a red pickup truck pull out after us. Apparently, my dad was too tired or not paying attention and didn’t see the guy pull in. That cashier must’ve been so confused.)

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(My managers are out of town. I work for close family friends; they own the franchise I work for so things are often pretty lax and they leave the store to my coworkers and me without a “real manager” on duty sometimes. In these times, I have to act as the manager and handle comments and complaints, etc. A customer enters the store with her grandchildren and my coworker takes their order.)

Coworker: “Thank you for choosing [Fast Food Restaurant]. What can I do for you today?”

Customer: “I want your three-piece strip five-dollar lunch with a honey mustard and a ranch.”

Coworker: “Okay, ma’am, no problem. It will be fifty cents for an extra sauce; is that okay?”

Customer: *suddenly angry* “I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU WOULD CHARGE FOR AN EXTRA SAUCE!”

Coworker: “I apologize for the inconvenience, ma’am, but it is company policy.”

Customer: “FINE. Just give me a honey mustard, then!”

(I walk away. I have only overheard this conversation as I am stocking up something close to the register. I immediately forget the customer, as I usually do if I don’t take the order. The transaction finishes; my coworker gives the customer her food and even ends up giving her the sauce for free. She eats and leaves with her grandchildren. About thirty minutes later the phone rings.)

Me: “Thank you for calling [Fast Food Restaurant]. How may I help you?”

Customer: “IS THIS HOW YOU RUN YOUR BUSINESS?!”

Me: *immediately confused, but recognizing her voice from earlier* “I’m sorry, ma’am. I don’t know what you mean; was something wrong with your meal?”

Customer: “I CAME IN WITH MY GRANDCHILDREN AND THERE WAS A COUPLE HUGGING AND KISSING IN YOUR DINING ROOM AND YOU DID NOTHING ABOUT IT!”

Me: *still confused* “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I didn’t see the couple, and even if I did, there’s nothing I could really do. It’s not illegal.”

Customer: “MY GRANDCHILDREN WERE THERE! THEY HAD TO SEE A GAY COUPLE HUGGING AND KISSING. IS THIS HOW YOU RUN YOUR BUSINESS?”

Me: *suddenly understanding* “Well, ma’am, as I said it’s not illegal, so there is nothing I can do.”

Customer: “WHY DIDN’T YOU KICK THEM OUT? MY GRANDCHILDREN HAD TO SEE IT!”

Me: “Ma’am, this franchise of [Fast Food Restaurant] is a major supporter of [Local Pride Celebration] and we believe that all love is equal. We would never kick a couple out for being gay.”

Customer: “Well, you just lost a customer!”

Me: “Well, ma’am, we don’t want your bigoted money, anyway.”

(The customer then hangs up the phone and I proceed to tell my coworkers about it.)

Coworker: “How do you think she would have felt if you told her all her food and ice cream were prepared by not one, or two, but three gay people?”

(The cook and I are bisexual and my other coworker is a lesbian. Ha!)

(I’m working the front at a fast food restaurant with another coworker. After a big rush, a customer comes up saying he didn’t get his order and that he’s been waiting for an hour. I apologize and tell the managers about it. A few minutes later he comes back up and asks again; it’s almost ready. He sits back down at his table with at least ten people and my coworker brings out his food, but not before looking at the time stamp on the customer’s receipt.)

Customer: “Yeah, I waited an hour for this!”

Coworker: “It’s been seventeen minutes.”

(The entire table laughed for a solid minute.)

(I am second in line for a counter service that sells both Mexican and American food. The customer in front of me walks up and begins making their order.)

Customer: “What is in the soft-shell beef taco?”

Cashier: “A flour shell, beef, lettuce, tomato, and cheese.”

Customer: “What is in the soft-shell chicken taco?”

Cashier: “A flour shell, chicken, lettuce, tomato, and cheese.”

Customer: “What is in the hard-shell beef taco?”

(This goes on as the customer asks the ingredients of every item on the menu top to bottom, left to right — tacos, burritos, burgers, sandwiches, salads, everything. He finally gets through the whole list. There is now a rather long line of people waiting.)

Cashier: “Have you made up your mind?”

Customer: “I’ll have a small French fry, please.”

(I can see the cashier is starting to lose their cool but is keeping it together.)

Cashier: “Anything else?”

Customer: “No, just the fries.”

(The customer happily paid and went to the end of the counter to wait for their food while close to twenty people stared in either amazement or downright hatred. The customer was blissfully ignorant and had a joyous calm that would have made a zen-master proud.)

(I am in line at a popular fast food restaurant drive-thru when this occurs. The woman driving the SUV in front of me places her order.)

Customer: “[Several value meals plus drinks], and one chicken nugget.”

Employee: “And what size chicken nuggets meal would you like?”

Customer: “Not a meal. Just one chicken nugget.”

Employee: “Okay, no meal, but what size? They come in orders of five, ten, and twenty nuggets.”

Customer: “I only want one nugget.”

Employee: “Please pull forward.”

(After pulling to the window…)

Employee: “I’m sorry, ma’am, we only sell nuggets in five, ten, or twenty sizes.”

Customer: “This is ridiculous! I demand to speak to a manager.”

(When the manager tells her the same thing, this angry woman spends the next five minutes giving him an earful because he will not sell her a single chicken nugget, before paying for the rest of her order and driving off in a huff.)

Me: *after pulling up to the window* “Did she really just scream at you for five minutes because she wanted one single nugget instead of paying $1.50 for five?”

Manager: “Yes, she did.”

Me: “Did you see she was driving a Cadillac Escalade?”