It’s St. Patrick’s Day, so no matter where you are, or whatever your heritage, everyone is Irish, and everyone is out to get drunk. As a result, our bar is crazy, and it’s all hands on deck. A drunk man from an equally drunk group of men comes over to the bar, and eventually, they get to me.

Drunk Customer: “I’m Irish!”

Me: “That’s great! Did you want to order!”

Drunk Customer: “Do you believe me?”

The customer is Asian, with an American accent. I stress that because I did once meet an Asian man with an Irish accent, so I never judge a book!

Me: “You can be whatever you want to be, sir. Are you ordering?”

Drunk Customer: “I’m Korean-Irish! My name is Paddy Kim!”

Me: “That’s great, Paddy! I don’t think I can serve you, though.”

Drunk Customer: “What?! Why not!”

Me: “If you don’t want the bar staff to think you’re too intoxicated for a drink, maybe it’s best not to make them ask what you’re ordering three times with no answer.”

Drunk Customer: “Oh… I’ll just have a Guinness.”

Me: “I’m not serving you alcohol.”

Drunk Customer: “Guinness has alcohol?!”

Me: “Then I’m definitely not serving you alcohol.”

He wanders over to his friends looking confused. I brought them all water when I had a moment to spare, and I could hear him muttering to his equally confused-looking friends.

Drunk Customer: “I thought it was like… a really weird Irish root beer…”

Today is St. Patrick’s Day! Get your fix of more St.Patrick’s Day-themed stories with our St.Patrick’s Day Themed Roundup!

Back in my college days, I had a girlfriend who I had been dating for just shy of a year and a half. She invited me to join her family for Christmas during the break. I didn’t have any other plans (my own parents and I did not, and still do not, get along), so I agreed.

My girlfriend is the oldest of seven children, and as her parents are fairly well-off, they have quite a large house, but there were two sets of aunts and uncles also visiting, with six kids between them, so the house felt very crowded when we arrived. My girlfriend was going to share a room with her sisters upstairs, while I was relegated to a cot in their garage.

Honestly, that cot was the best part of the trip, as the kids weren’t allowed in the garage, and it was actually pretty well-insulated for a garage, so I had a nice spot to retreat to if things got too much.

Probably the first sign of problems I had was with the bathroom arrangements. To make things “easier”, each person was assigned a bathroom for the stay. The bathroom I was assigned was the one right next to the garage. The problem was that it was the “half” bathroom out of their “four and a half” baths, meaning that it had a sink and a toilet, but no tub or shower. I tried asking her mother where I was supposed to shower.

Me: “Can I use the master bathroom?”

Mother: “No, that’s our private space.”

Me: “What about either of the upstairs hall bathrooms?”

Mother: “No, the little kids shower there.”

Me: “The downstairs guest bathroom?”

Mother: “No, that’s totally full with [Girlfriend]’s brothers and sisters.”

Nope, I was just expected to deal with it by… not showering the entire time.

Well, I sucked it up and did my best to wash up in the sink. We’d arrived the day before Christmas Eve, and things went… okay through Christmas Day. I got a few looks for the fact that I’d “only” brought presents for her parents and siblings — I hadn’t been informed about the aunts and uncles and cousins — but other than that, things were fine.

Then, on the twenty-sixth, they announced that they were having some annual outing to a nearby winery. This was apparently a tradition for the adults, but my girlfriend had never gone before, as she’d been picked to watch all the kids. So, now the parents, aunts, uncles, and my girlfriend all loaded off to this wine-tasting event.

Notice who was left out of that list? That’s right. I was explicitly not invited.

Mother: “Oh, I forgot to get you a spot. So sorry. You’ll just have to stay here and watch the kids?”

Uh-huh, and what was the plan if I hadn’t come?

Anyway, I come from a large family myself, so wrangling the kids wasn’t too difficult, especially when they had a bunch of new toys they were playing with and they were still somewhat sluggish from the sugar highs they’d had on Christmas. But, talking with some of the older kids, they let slip that the adults would usually go off and do things the day after Christmas every year. Hmm, suspicious.

I talked to my girlfriend and her parents after they got back, asking about the plans for the rest of the break. There was a bit of hemming and hawing, but eventually, they admitted that they had some adult excursions planned: a winter hike, some Christmas concert, etc. And, as I’d suspected, they’d “completely forgotten” to arrange things so I could go. So sorry.

Me: “I didn’t give up my break to be a free babysitter for you. Thank you for opening your home to me for the holiday.”

Then, I headed to the garage to see about arranging a cab and plane ticket back home. Oh, yeah, I forgot to mention. My girlfriend’s ticket was paid for by her parents, but I’d had to pay for my own. Maybe that should have been the actual first red flag?

Anyway, I did actually manage to rearrange my plane ticket, though there was an upcharge. Still, I headed out. The kids all cheerfully said goodbye, her parents looked sternly angry, and my girlfriend seemed to have no emotion about it whatsoever.

I ended up enjoying myself just fine once I got back home. After the break, my girlfriend came over and we had a talk.

Girlfriend: “I’m so disappointed that you couldn’t stick it out for the entire break. I had to deal with my parents all growing up, and you couldn’t manage to deal with them for two full weeks. I’m not sure if this relationship will work if you can’t help support my needs.”

Things got heated after that. There was plenty of shouting, and we were very much an ex-couple when everything was said and done.

But the cherry on top of all of that was when I got a call on December first, eleven months after our breakup. It was [Girlfriend]’s mother.

Mother: “I’m calling to see if you plan to join us this year for Christmas. Are you going to stick around and help out properly this time?”

I just ended up repeating the word “Ha!” over and over again at louder and louder volumes before hanging up on her.

These are two of my favorite entitlement encounters working in retail.

A customer approaches me.

Customer #1: “What time are you closing on Christmas Eve?”

Me: “We close at 6:00 pm that night, ma’am.”

Customer #1: “What?! I need you to stay open all night so I can pick up my kids’ gifts from layaway after they go to bed!”

Me: “Ma’am, we’re closing early so we can be home with our families that night.”

Customer #1: “Ugh! I am totally insulted by your attitude!”

On another occasion, I’m talking to my supervisor.

Me: “I’ve been here for almost eight hours without being able to even leave the counter for a drink, so when I finish up here, I’m going to take a lunch, not just a break.”

Supervisor: “Okay, that’s fine. I’ll cover for you until you get back.”

The next customer in line steps up to the counter and gives me a smug smile.

Customer #2: “You are not going on break because you are going to serve me.”

I just look her straight in the eye and point to my supervisor.

Me: “She will help you. I am leaving for lunch.”

And I turned and walked away.

It is Lunar New Year, and while no one in the store is Chinese, we are located in Chinatown, so we have a few celebration posters up and we are enjoying some of the celebrations outside while we work.

A grumpy-looking customer comes up to the counter.

Customer: “What’s all that ruckus outside?!”

Me: “It’s Lunar New Year, so the Chinese community is celebrating.”

Customer: “Bah! Why did they invent their own new year, trying to be special?! We should all celebrate the one true New Year, as told by Jesus Christ!”

Me: “I don’t think that’s in the Bible.”

Customer: “Of course it is! It’s a Christian holiday!”

Me: “I don’t think—”

Customer: *Interrupting* “That’s your first mistake! When you have Jesus, you don’t need to think.”

Me: “That… explains a lot. Will that be everything, sir?”

I’ve been working as a server or bartender since I was sixteen years old. I’ve gotten used to plenty of rude customers over the eight years I’ve been in this worksphere, but this one takes first place.

I recently quit working as a server — yay! — and started working from 11:00 am to 7:00 pm as a store clerk. The position is better paid and works better for me. I live in a small tourist town where most people know each other and there are A LOT of tourists during the summer. My brother has a restaurant that is open from mid-spring until early autumn. I help out whenever he needs it after I finish my other job at 7:00 pm.

Monday is a national holiday in my country, and the weekend is expected to be very busy. And it is. I can barely keep up with the tables I have, things are getting hectic in the kitchen, and it is really slow there.

I bring menus to two guys who have just been seated, and as I’m leaving their table to get to some other customers, one of the guys stops me and, with no intention of reading the menu, asks me:

Guy: “What beers do you have?”

Me: “They are all listed in the menu; you can see them there. I’ll be right back with you, sir, just one mo—”

Guy: “I ain’t reading that. JUST TELL ME WHAT BEERS YOU HAVE!”

Used to this kind of customer, I just explain what we have.

Guy: “Was it so hard to tell me? Bring me this one, and some fish and some fries.”

Me: “Sir, it’s very busy right now, and it’ll take at least forty minutes for the fries and the fish to be ready. Can I offer you some salads or something on the barbecue while the rest gets ready?”

Guy: “DO I LOOK LIKE SOMEONE WHO IS GONNA WAIT? My child will be here in ten minutes, and if the fish isn’t here, I WILL NOT BE PAYING!”

Me: *Getting irritated* “Sir, there are tons of other orders before you, and we cannot bring yours before that.”

Guy: “I DON’T CARE! WHO ARE YOU TO TELL ME THAT I HAVE TO WAIT?! BRING IT OR ELSE—”

Already fed up with everything, I cut him off.

Me: “Dude, first of all, you have no right to speak to me like that. Second, your order will not be ready in less than forty minutes because there are other customers before you and because I’m not going to serve you! Get out of here!”

I go to my other tables as I have three who are waiting to order, get their orders, and continue to do my job. I stop by the kitchen and let my brother know what’s going on.

Five minutes pass by, and this guy comes to the bar and asks to see the boss; my brother works as a chef every day, and this guy clearly knows him but not me.

Guy: “[Brother]! Your server says he doesn’t want to serve me! What is this?!”

Brother: “Yeah, that server is my brother, and you were in the wrong, acting like a jacka**.”

The guy’s mouth drops open wide.

Guy: “This is your brother, [Brother]? I’m so sorry. I didn’t know!” *To me* “Accept my apologies. I didn’t know you were his brother!”

Me: “Whatever. Just know you were in the wrong, no matter whether I was the owner’s brother or not.”

He stayed, and I had to serve him anyway. He was all apologetic for the rest of the night and left a decent tip.

I was fuming for the rest of the night because of that. Why does he think that it’s okay to be rude to the servers as long as they aren’t related to the owner? What the heck?