(A family approach my counter.)

Customer: “Uh. Can I get a number six, with mac and cheese? And a medium drink.”

(His family orders their food, and I make the sandwich—his number six— and plate the rest of the food. Our number six doesn’t come with a biscuit, but his father and mother’s meals do.)

Customer: “Hey. HEY!”

Me: “Yes, sir?”

Customer: “We’re short one biscuit.”

(Even though I know he isn’t, I give him one. Five minutes later, I see him stand up, and start screaming.)

Customer: “IT’S NOT JUST THIS RESTAURANT; IT’S ALL FAST FOOD!”

(He barges up, and slams his sandwich down.)

Customer: “I ORDERED A NUMBER 12! THIS HAS A BUN! I WANTED THE ONE WITH NO BUN!

Me: “Oh, gosh, I’m sorry! I thought you said number six! That one comes with a bun! Sorry, again!”

Customer: “I DID ORDER A NUMBER SIX, BUT I WANTED A NUMBER 12! WASN’T IT OBVIOUS!?”

(I’ve just begun my shift, so I speak to my manager to check on things.)

Me: “Is there anything I need to know, like anything we’re out of, can’t make, or trying to push?”

Manager: “No.”

(The manager walks away, totally emotionless and uninterested. Note that I’m at the drive-thru register, far away from everything else in the restaurant.)

Customer: “Yes, I’d like two [ice cream product] please.”

Me: “Your total is [amount]. Please pull forward to the first window.”

(Suddenly, I hear my manager shout from the front of the store.)

Manager: “WE DON’T HAVE ICE CREAM!”

(I have just finished ordering a pita and am next to the till waiting behind a person paying for their order. There is one person making the pitas, and two people by the till.)

Cashier #1: “Well, I’m off for the day.”

(Cashier #1 promptly moves into the back. Cashier #2 has finished handing the customer in front of me their order and is now looking at the food station behind the counter. I wait patiently for Cashier #2’s attention so I can pay for my order.)

Me: “Excuse me.”

(Cashier #2 ignores me and continues moving behind the counter. By now, I have been waiting for at least 10 minutes to pay for my food.)

Me: “Excuse me, can I please pay for my food?”

Cashier #2: “…”

(In desperation, I address the server preparing the food.)

Me: “Excuse me, can I please pay for my food?”

(The server glances at me, and then looks at the cashier.)

Server: “Why haven’t you helped this lady yet?”

Cashier #2: “I am not authorized to handle the till.”

Server: “Move over…”

(The server promptly takes over the till and allows me to pay for my food.  Meanwhile, Cashier #2 still hasn’t moved; she’s staring at a piece of paper I assume to be the schedule.)

Cashier #2: “…Can I go on break?”

(My coworker and I are both waiting on chicken burgers, for which there is a three minute wait. I only need one of the burgers while my coworker needs two. One that has been made for her is up.)

Me: “Hey [coworker], because you are waiting for a second chicken burger and I only need this one, can I have this one?”

Coworker: “No.”

Me: “Well, you’re waiting on the second one. So, it would be quicker for my customer if I took this one.”

Coworker: “I said no!”

Me: “So, you’re going to make both customers wait even though I can take that one?”

Coworker: “It’s MY burger!”

Me: “Yes, but then you could have mine.”

Coworker: “I DON’T CARE! THIS ONE IS MINE! YOU CAN’T HAVE MY BURGER! IT’S MINE!”

(At this point, all our coworkers in the back are watching. The customer in the drive-through also looks horrified, and the customers in the lobby are all staring.)

Me: “Okay…”

(The other two burgers come up; as I go to take one of the two fresh ones, my coworker snatches them both up first.)

Me: “…Those were mine.”

Coworker: “Whatever! Don’t be so childish!”

(Thankfully, my manager had some words with her and I got free food for trying to keep my calm and not raging.)

(I’m a teacher and decide to grab some fast food for lunch. I am wearing a large coat that makes me look overweight.)

Employee: “Welcome to—holy s***, dude! What’s a whale like you doing here? Surely you’ve had enough junk food?”

Me: “Charming. Either way, I’ll have a—”

Employee: “No! I refuse to serve someone as fat as you. Go join a gym or something!”

(At this point, I remove my coat and show him the ‘fat’ is actually toned muscle.)

Me: “I’ll tell you what,: you apologise, get me my food and I’ll—”

(I stop mid-sentence as I recognize the employee.)

Me: “Wait, you’re in my class aren’t you? In that case, I’m expecting a full essay about how to treat others and how to behave in a workplace on my desk the first thing Monday morning.”

(The employee’s face goes pale as he rushes through my order. Not only did I get to have a bit of fun, but he even came through and gave me a half decent essay on Monday!)