I am an actor in a drive-through scare attraction. It’s like a classic haunted house attraction except that people drive instead of walking through. Various scenes play out and the scares get bigger as they reach the climax of the story.

When they first enter, they are given clear instructions: stop at the stop sign in each zone, only proceed when the light turns green, and drive no more than three miles per hour.

Most people can follow these simple instructions. Most.

As with most scare attractions, there is a combination of pre-recorded dialogue, sound effects, and spoken dialogue/scares. It’s important to keep traffic moving but also give cars the green light when it’s safe to move forward. Otherwise, we get cars backed up which hurts everyone’s experience and makes accidents more likely.

[Guest #1] drives into my scene. The track is playing with dialogue from the main protagonist and antagonist, and I’m waiting for my cue. [Guest #1] stares at me for a moment, completely ignoring the dialogue blasting into his car, before loudly saying, “I guess she isn’t going to wave us through,” and speeds off, nearly hitting the car ahead of him.

It’s almost as though I didn’t turn on your green light for a reason!

[Guest #2] stays for the entire scene. The jump scare happens and I, in character, yell at them to “Get outta here!” and hit the green light.

[Guest #2] just sits there. And sits there. Cars are now waiting behind her. She doesn’t even look at me: the green light is right in her face and she’s staring straight ahead. After an agonizing forty-five seconds, she finally remembers that green means go.

[Guest #3] comes rolling in. He and his buddies are having a blast — and not in a good way. They’re chattering so loudly that they nearly drown out the very loud audio track. They don’t stop at the stop sign at all, so I — in character — put my hand up and tell them to stop. They laugh at me and drive off at way more than three miles per hour… missing an entire jump scare and causing a backup.

A variation of these events happens every single night.

It never ceases to amaze me how people will pay up to $100 per car and then ruin their own experience. Or how many people can’t follow simple instructions. I guess they laugh and drive forward when crossing guards tell them to stop, too?

Not to mention the catcalling and heckling. I can’t imagine spending $100 just to harass people who are being paid to entertain you. And hecklers almost always miss out on the jump scares. Their loss!

A family requests a specific room layout, and the only one left is on the concierge floor, normally reserved for business guests and off-limits to kids.

Concierge has a special lounge area with couches and chairs. The dad is sitting in the lounge reading a paper, and his daughter is jumping around the room, couch to chair to couch. The girl at the concierge desk goes over.

Concierge: “Sir, please ask your daughter not to jump on the furniture, because she might fall and get hurt.”

Guest: *Flipping out, yelling* “Who do you think you are, telling me how to raise my kid?!”

As he’s screaming at the concierge, the little girl misses a couch, falls, and lands on the $18,000 cut-glass “Little Mermaid” coffee table, breaking it. The guy grabs the crying child by the arm and walks away.

Guest: “I told you not to jump around like that!”

This is a follow-up to this story. Hurricane Irma tore our store’s roof off. The business owners and I are now inside the store, trying to salvage what we can.

We’ve got two trailers outside in front of the entrance. We positioned them so you can’t get to the entrance without stepping over the hitch. We’ve taped off the area with yellow caution tape.

The power is off. It’s about ninety-five degrees F inside. A good two inches of water is standing stagnant on the floor. Ceiling tiles and insulation are hanging and periodically falling to the floor. 

Everything smells like wet death.

I look up from what used to be my desk to see a woman, standing in the middle of what used to be our lobby, holding a box.

Customer: “Can I get this shipped out?”

Not completely convinced I’m not seeing things, I slowly shake my head no. She turns around and walks out. The owner sees her climbing over the trailer hitch to get out with her box. 

Store Owner: “You have got to be s***ting me!”

Related:
This Story Starts With Hurricanes, And Then It Gets Worse, Part 2
This Story Starts With Hurricanes, And Then It Gets Worse

I head to a popular coffee shop one morning before work because I am lacking in the sleep department due to traffic getting home the night before. My brain isn’t all there yet when I get to the counter.

Barista: “Hi! What can I get started for you?”

Me: “Can I get an iced coffee and a chocolate croissant?”

Barista: “Do you want that warm?”

Me: “No, iced.”

Barista: “…”

Me: “…”

Barista: “…”

Me: “Oh! You mean the croissant! Oh, my gosh, yes, please. Sorry, I’m not all here yet.”

Barista: *Laughs* “No worries. One iced coffee and an iced croissant.”

I work the morning shift in a small restaurant. Two of the wait staff call in sick and, of course, we have an unusually large breakfast rush.

The manager steps forward to help serve tables, but we are still slow at getting to everyone. One particular family — a husband, wife, and two teenage children — is very understanding. When I apologize for the delay in simply bringing them the orange juices and coffees and taking their orders, they wave this off.

Customer: “You are obviously busy today. You’re doing great.”

This started a domino effect. The people at the table next to them heard and, when I brought out their order a few minutes later, they made a point of thanking me and sympathizing over how busy we were.

The table next to THEM also spoke up in my support and in support of my manager, who was working just as hard. It literally went like this in a near-perfect circle around the room, with everyone chiming in.

I don’t know if we were blessed with an unusually kind group of people or if it was some sort of bizarre example of peer pressure, but it was wonderful. Everyone left a good tip. That family that started the Dominoes of Niceness falling? They left nearly a 50% tip.