(My dad and I are on our way home from visiting a potential college about eight hours away. We decide to stop at a restaurant on the highway to get food and use the restrooms. When we come out of the restrooms to order our food, there is not an employee in sight.)

Me: “Well this is weird.”

Dad: “Yeah, where’d everyone go?”

(After about a minute, every employee comes out together and somebody takes our order. We walk back to the car with our food.)

Dad: *laughing* “You gotta be f****** s******* me!”

Me: “What?”

Dad: “Did you see that?”

Me: “That they all came out like that? That was weird.”

Dad: “Well yeah, that, but I was looking at the one guy making our fries, and he was going like this…”

(My dad tilts his head back and squints his eyes.)

Dad: “And then I realized they all must have been in the back getting high!”

Me: “Oh, that explains it!”

(I am working in the drive-thru window. I am talking to a customer and we both notice a group of four young teens WALKING down the drive-thru lane.)

Customer: *laughs* “Don’t you love how silly kids are? Well, good night!”

(The customer leaves, and the teens approach the drive-thru window.)

Teen: “Yea, hi. I want to order.”

Me: “Yea, sorry. Unfortunately I can’t serve you here unless you are in a car. You are welcome to come inside though.”

Teen: “What are you talking about? We are in a car, see! I’m the driver holding the wheel.” *holds imaginary wheel* “And my passengers!” *points at his three friends*

Me: “Sorry, but unless you can crash your car and dent my wall. I can’t serve you here.”

Teen: “Okay!” *makes screeching noises* “CRASH!”

(I’ve spent the last six years working in various different fast food companies. I’m extremely well known for how happy and polite I am at all times, something that always raises questions with coworkers and customers alike. My coworker is notorious for being miserable and moody to everyone she meets.)

Coworker #1: “Hey, how come you’re so nice to everyone all the time?”

Me: “Ha, you say it like it’s a bad thing!”

Coworker #1: “Oh no! But seriously though; you’re even nice to the bad ones! There’s got to be a reason for it!”

Me: “I don’t know, really. Well, I do remember something that’s always stuck with me. One day, when I was about six years old, I was queuing at a fast food place on my own. I reached the front of the queue and the cashier asked me if she could serve the man behind me. Being a kid and not really understanding, I let her. She then did this a further four times and completely ignored me until my mum noticed and stepped up. The cashier didn’t even apologize. Even though I’m now 22, this occurrence still bugs me to this day, so I guess I vowed to never be like that if I could help it!”

Coworker #1: “I wish I had a tragic fast food back story to make me a better worker too!”

Me: “You don’t need one. It’s not hard to smile at someone!”

Coworker: “Ugh, but I hate it here, and I hate having to serve them!”

Me: “Okay… Just think of it like this: how do you react when someone serves you in a shop and they don’t smile at you or ask you how you are, and continue talking to their coworkers the whole time?”

Coworker #1: “Well, I complain about it of course! People should be happy to serve others and do their job!”

Me: “Exactly. Maybe you should try smiling some time too then maybe customers will stop complaining about you.”

(I’m working the counter, and I see a six-year-old boy walk in with his mother. The mother sits in the back while the boy goes to the counter to make his order.)

Me: “Hi, sweetie! What can I get you today?”

Boy: “Can I please have a small orange-creme shake?”

Me: “Of course. Anything else?”

Boy: “No.”

Me: “Alright, that’ll be one-ninety.”

(The boy’s face crumples, and he backs away from the counter, walks in a circle, then looks back at me.)

Boy: “What?”

Me: “One-ninety?”

(The boy begins crying, and rushes back to his mother.)

Boy: “Mommy! I need $200 for my shake, and we don’t have that kinda money!”

Mother: “What?”

Me: “Wait, wait, no, sweetheart! I mean it’s one dollar and ninety cents!”

Boy: “Oh, okay.”

(After that, he pays for his shake and acts like absolutely nothing has happened.)

(One of our managers is really strict when it comes to getting days off on short notice. I am speaking to a different manager about tomorrow morning’s schedule.)

Me: “I know it’s really short notice, but I can’t make my shift tomorrow. I know I won’t be able to get anyone to cover me since tomorrow is Sunday, do you think you can manage without me?”

Nice Manager: “Sure! Don’t worry about getting someone to cover it. I’ll just mark you off now.”

(A few hours later, the strict manager comes in a sees me marked off for tomorrow morning.)

Strict Manager: “Why are you marked off?”

Me: “Because I’m taking tomorrow off.”

Strict Manager: “You can’t do that! You have to get someone to cover for you first. And don’t bother with whatever excuse you have planned. If you can’t get someone to cover for you then you have to work your shift. That’s the rules!”

Me: “But [Nice Manager] runs that shift, and he already told me I could!”

Strict Manager: “Well I say you can’t, so you better be here first thing in the morning tomorrow or I’m writing you up!”

(I start to argue, but my nice manager stops me and gives me a piece of advice. The next morning I take his advice and call work. My strict manager answers the phone.)

Me: “Hey, it’s [My Name]. I just called because I’m too sick to come in today.”

Strict Manager: “Oh, okay! I’ll just mark you off the schedule and let [Nice Manager] know you won’t be in. Feel better soon!”