Washing Your Hands Of This Date

, , , , , | Romantic | January 18, 2020

(I’m a waiter at a fancy restaurant.)

Customer: “Excuse me, sir, are those ‘must wash hands’ signs only for the employees?”

Me: “Yes, sir. By law, we must wash our hands to prevent contamination.”

Customer’s Date: *looks disgusted, gets up, and leaves*

Customer: *plays on his phone for thirty minutes, then throws money on the table and leaves*

A Celiac Maniac

, , , | Right | January 17, 2020

(I am working as a waitress in a restaurant and this couple comes in for dinner. They sit down at the table and I take their order and send it to the kitchen. A few moments later, the lady calls me over.)

Customer: “Sorry I forgot to tell you I’m celiac.” *allergic to gluten* “Could you please check that my order is okay?”

Me: “Yeah, of course. Your main meal actually is celiac already, but I’ll just inform the kitchen so they know.”

(I go and let the kitchen and my manager who is running the pass know, and everything is fine. About two minutes later, my manager calls me into the kitchen really confused because my celiac table has ordered a Cobb Loaf — a very much full of gluten bread loaf. Thinking maybe they didn’t realise it was bread, I go and check with the table.)

Me: “Hey, guys, I just noticed you’ve ordered a Cobb Loaf, which is a bread loaf and contains gluten. Did you still want to order it?”

Customer: “Oh, no, that’s okay; we’ll risk it.”

(The customer then proceeded to eat half of the bread completely unfazed and I’m so confused.)

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Sit Down Or Fall Down

, , , , , | Working | January 17, 2020

(I’ve recently broken my ankle, but I’m beginning to walk on it again using a walker or, in this instance, a cane. We are going to a restaurant, and all of the handicap spots are taken. They drop me off and go to park in the back of the parking lot. I go inside to check in.)

Me: “Hello, we have a reservation for [My Name].”

Host: “Yes, your table is ready, but we won’t be able to seat you until the entire party is here.”

Me: “Could you make an exception? I’m struggling a little here—” *gestures to my walking boot and cane* “—and I need to sit down.”

Host: “You’re welcome to sit in the waiting area.”

(I look. All of the waiting area seats are taken. I move towards them, but no one offers me a seat, and the people I ask refuse. My family still hasn’t come in from parking.)

Me: “Please, I really need to sit down.”

Host: “Ma’am, I can’t let you sit until everyone is here. If you don’t like it, I can get the manager.”

Me: *almost in tears from pain* “Why can’t you just let me sit at the table?”

Host: “It’s policy.”

(At this point, another party was called, and I took one of the waiting area seats they vacated. My family members took almost another ten minutes to find parking and walk from the far spot inside, so it’s a good thing the other party got called or I might have collapsed.)

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Because A Bandage Can Totally Fix A Mild Traumatic Brain Injury

, , , , , , | Working | January 15, 2020

(My boss refuses to believe employees who say they’re injured. We are working together in a small space with several obstacles, and he accidentally bumps me sideways, causing my head to bounce off a steel beam. After I regain consciousness about thirty seconds later, I slowly get to my feet, still dazed and bleeding.)

Me: “Boss, I’m taking the rest of today off and going to a doctor to be checked out.”

Boss: “No, you’re not. Go wash yourself up and slap on a bandage, and then get back in here.”

Me: “Not happening.”

Boss: “You’re being insubordinate. Do what I tell you.” 

(I walk out, wash off the blood from my forehead, bandage it up, and then go straight to HR to report what happened before heading for the doctor’s office. Luckily, it’s only a “mild” concussion. I take three days off and come back to work.)

Boss: “You disobeyed my orders. Sign this writeup.”

(I snatched the writeup from his hands and stalked off to HR again, showing them the unsigned writeup and mentioning a few things like “unsafe work environment” and “OSHA regulations.” The writeup was thrown out and my boss was demoted and transferred.)

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Pretty Sure Those Things Leave A Bigger Bite

, , , , | Working | January 14, 2020

(It’s been less than a year since I moved roughly 1550 miles to my new home. When mosquito season comes around I have a pretty bad reaction to the bites. Since I can’t just go to work covered in calamine, I put adhesive bandages over them. There are a lot. And the only bandages I have are neon. Because of this, at work, it’s pretty much impossible to avoid questions from customers about what happened. I tell dramatic lies and almost everyone plays along.)

Young Girl: “What happened to your arms?”

Me: “I fought a bear...”

Young Girl: *blandly* “Oh.”

Me: “…and won.”

Young Girl: “Okay.”

(She paid for her items and left without another word. The next customer began asking questions about my fierce battle. It still amuses me that out of all the stories I made up that day, the only person who wouldn’t play along was a little kid.)

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