(I have just recently started my job in fast food. The manager I was in training with has to take a leave of absence, leaving me with another manager, who is not very helpful. I am just learning the register, and said manager, instead of instructing me, keeps snatching things from my hands and doing it herself.)

Me: “Alright, ma’am, it will be a wait on your food. I will bring it out to you as soon as possible. Thank you for being so patient with us today and myself; it is only my fifth day.”

Customer: “Thank you; I’ll just take a seat in a booth.”

(I deliver her food and ask if everything is alright. She says yes and I return to making other orders, but keep noticing her staring at me. My worst fear is that I’ve gotten her order wrong, when she finally approaches me.)

Customer: “I’m so sorry to interrupt, but you said it was your fifth day?”

Me: “Yes, ma’am, it is.”

Customer: “I just wanted to say you’re doing so excellent! Keep your head up; you completely have this.”

(To that customer, thank you so much for those kind words, they got me through the rest of my less than easy shift and made my entire month!)

(My manager and I are both tired and ready to leave, but she has to count my money and sort out what I get as my tips. She is humming…)

Manager: “I can’t believe I have The Lion King music stuck in my head.”

Me: “There are much worse things than a Disney song.”

Manager: “True. Everybody look left. Everybody look right. Every where you look I’m standing SPOT LIGHT!”

Me: “NOT YET!”

Manager: “Awesome! Thanks for not letting me hang there all on my own.”

(This is not the most random thing I have been called awesome for at this job. I love my manager!)

(My fiancé and I attend college in Florida. I’ve spent most of the past three years outside, and have tanned despite frequent applications of sunscreen. We’re driving to see my parents for their 35th anniversary, and stop to get food.)

Cashier: “We don’t serve immigrants here!”

(My fiancé is from Scotland, but hasn’t said anything. He turns to leave and is holding the door for me.)

Cashier: “Sir! You don’t have to leave; just that illegal chica.”

Fiancé: “First, I’m the immigrant. Second, my ‘chica’s’ shirt says ‘You Don’t Scare Me. My Dad’s A United States Marine.’ It’s pretty obvious she’s a citizen. Third, my money isn’t going to your paycheck.”

Cashier: “No citizen is THAT dark!”

Me: *snort* “Then why are you here?”

(Another customer has come up and bursts out laughing.)

Cashier: “What do you idiots find so funny?”

(The other customer approaches and points at the cashier’s skin.)

Other Customer: “Your tan is darker than hers!”

(The other customer then turns to me.)

Other Customer: “Is your dad a Marine?”

Me: “Yes, sir! He’s [rank and unit]. Yours, sir?”

(The other customer gives his rank, and turns to my fiancé.)

Other Customer: “You treat that young lady right.”

(I usually work day shift, but my manager has asked me to work an evening shift to cover a staff absence. A coworker is getting cooked chicken strips out of the fryer to serve a customer, and he drops one on the floor. He throws it back into the fryer.)

Me: “Hey [Coworker], what are you doing?”

Coworker: “Freshening up the chicken.”

Me: “What? You’re not going to serve that, are you?”

Coworker: “Yup, it’s fine; you just need to fry it a bit.”

Me: “No you don’t! You need to throw it out and cook a new one!”

Coworker: “[Manager] said this was fine! The hot oil kills germs.”

Me: “No way!”

(I make him re-cook the order, and go find the manager and explain what happened.)

Manager: “[Coworker], what the h***! You do NOT serve food that’s been on the floor!”

Coworker: “You said that we didn’t have to follow hygiene for fried food; you said the hot oil kills germs. That’s what you told me.”

Manager: “I said you don’t need to wear gloves to handle frozen food that’s going in the fryer as long as you have washed your hands. What made you think it was okay to serve food that’s been on the floor?”

Coworker: “What’s the difference?”

Manager: “In the back. Now.”

(The scary thing? I’d eaten there in the evenings because I knew we had really good kitchen hygiene. At least, the day shift did…)

(I’m working at a restaurant that sells fried chicken. A customer approaches me after she has eaten her entire meal. The tray she’s carrying only has picked-clean chicken bones on it.)

Me: “How can I help you?”

Customer: “Yeah, I ordered the white meat chicken meal, but got dark meat pieces instead. You need to give me a new meal.”

Me: “I’m sorry for the confusion, but the white meat chicken meal comes with a breast and wing, which is what you received.”

Customer: “No, you gave me a leg and a thigh. I paid extra for the white meat meal and I demand that you give me a replacement!”

Me: “Again, I’m sorry for the confusion, but as you can see by the chicken bones on your tray, this piece was a breast piece. See the rib bones here, and this piece was a wing.”

Customer: “Get me your manager NOW!”

(My manager has heard the interchange and cordially comes over.)

Manager: “I’m terribly sorry for the mistake, ma’am; here’s a replacement meal for you.”

(My manager hands her another white meat meal.)

Customer: “It’s about time!”

(After the customer leaves, having left the tray with the chicken bones on it, I turn to my manager.)

Me: “Why did she get a free replacement meal when it’s obvious that she got and completely ate what she ordered?”

Manager: *smiling sadly* “The customer always thinks they’re right, even when they’re wrong. And especially when all they want is to throw a fit for free food. I’ve learned it’s easier to just give them what they want than to try to convince them to be decent people.”

Me: “The customer is always right?”

Manager: “Even when they’re wrong!”