My family, all Caucasian, are packing up as we get ready to return home from a vacation. My parents realize that there won’t be room in the car for a watermelon my mom bought but didn’t get around to eating.

Rather than throw it away, she decides to offer it to the hotel staff and see if they want it. As she jauntily walks up to the front counter, the man behind leaves and is replaced by a black man.

My mom slowly comes to stop as she pauses and considers what she’s about to do. She stands still for a solid minute, staring at the man, as she weighs her options. She finally just decides to ignore her concerns and asks the man if he is interested in a free watermelon. He happily takes it without comment.

(I work as a night porter in a hotel and resort. Over New Year, we have the fire alarm go off dead on midnight during the gala event. We deactivate the alarm and investigate the cause of it, discovering that some genius — valued customer — has set off some kind of sparkler or other smoke-producing device indoors on the bottom of the hotel corridor, and that is what set the alarm off. We open some doors to air it out and report it as a false alarm. I get a phone call some three minutes later from one of the guest rooms.)

Guest: “What on earth are you people thinking?!”

Me: “Ma’am, I’m not sure what you mean.”

Guest: “Setting off fire alarms for New Year! Don’t you know people are sleeping?!”

Me: “I am sorry, but there was a genuine smoke alarm as a result of someone setting off a device at midnight. There is no fire but the alarm was a real one.”

Guest: “I don’t believe you! Stupid people care more about parties than their guests!” *hangs up*

(The following morning, around nine, there is another fire alarm, this time because of a malfunctioning hair drier. The phone rings. Guess who?)

Guest: “I CAN’T BELIEVE IT! AGAIN! YOU DID IT AGAIN!”

Me: *face already in palm* “Ma’am, I am so sorry, but this was another genuine alarm.”

Guest: “I AM COMING DOWN THERE, AND I DEMAND A FULL REFUND FOR THIS INCREDIBLE RUDENESS!” *hangs up*

(She came down to the desk and proceeded to shout at us for roughly ten minutes, not allowing me to tell her that I needed to get a manager for her to receive her refund. Honestly. Some people. I know two alarms in one night is extremely annoying, and if I were a guest, I would be slightly upset about it, but not “shout at the staff who were not responsible for ten minutes” upset. But I guess we, as a hotel, should stop being so inconsiderate and turn off the loud, incredibly rude beepy things that are in place to save lives and protect people.)

(I work at a bed and breakfast. This bed and breakfast has a 24-hour menu available to guests that includes soups, sandwiches, and desserts.)

Guy: “Would it be possible to get a slice of cheesecake and some matches for a candle? It’s my girlfriend’s birthday and we want to celebrate.”

Me: “Sure, give me a few minutes and I’ll have it right out for you.”

(As it is currently later in the evening, the kitchen staff has gone home, so I prepare the cheesecake for them and then grab a pack of matches we have available.)

Me: “Here you are. Happy birthday and I hope you enjoy.”

(The guests proceed to go upstairs and I go about my routine as usual. A short while later they return; he has his arm wrapped in the bottom of his shirt.)

Girlfriend: “We had a bit of an incident and my boyfriend burned his arm. Can you give us directions to the hospital?”

(I can see the burn does look pretty bad, so I grab one of our island map printouts and use a highlighter to draw how to get there. As they are leaving, he stops to say something.)

Guy: “There is a little bit of smoke in the room. Wanted to be sure you knew about it.”

Boss: *after they leave* “We’d better go see what happened up there.”

(We took the elevator up to the floor they were staying on and as soon as we got off we saw smoke in the hall. My boss and I went into the room and we could barely see because of all the smoke. It turns out they had decided that it would be a good idea to use a sparkler for the candle in the small room and it caught the duvet on fire. I had to go grab some fans from our storage across the street and while I was doing that, the smoke tripped the fire alarm, waking everyone up. I learned later that the guest had gotten fourth-degree burns.)

(At this time, I am 15 years old and my family is preparing to spend the weekend in the Santa Clara area — coming from El Dorado — for a father and daughter’s joint Bar Mitzvah. As usual, I wake up early and am showered and dressed before anyone else. My mom comes out of her room while I’m getting a box of cereal out to have breakfast. It’s before 8:00 am.)

Mom: “Don’t eat; we’re going to stop for breakfast before we head out of town.”

(I like the idea of getting a Belgium waffle more than eating cold cereal.)

Me: “Okay, sure!”

(However, it takes my family a long time to get ready. My mother and younger sister particularly enjoy lingering in the showers for quite a while. I end up going to my room and switching on my PS2 for a while. Finally, we leave after 10:15. I notice that when we drive into town we immediately get on to the highway.)

Me: “Wait. Weren’t we going to stop for breakfast?”

Mom: “Oh, no way! We left WAY too late for that. Besides, [Sister] and your father already ate something.”

Me: “Well, you could have said something so I didn’t have to go hungry.”

Mom: “Sorry!” *obviously doesn’t care that much* “We’ll stop for something around lunch time.”

(It’s out of my control, so I try to distract myself from the hunger pangs for the next couple of hours until it is past noon.)

Me: “Hey, are we going to stop for lunch anytime soon?”

Sister: “I’m not hungry.”

Mom: “Neither am I. If we stopped for lunch, it would just be for you.”

Me: “I’m fine with that.”

Dad: “We can just go through a drive-thru for him.”

Mom: “I want to make sure we get checked in to the hotel so we don’t have to rush to the ceremony, so let’s just head straight to the hotel.”

(No amount of complaining or compromising makes a difference. It doesn’t matter that we will be at the hotel in an hour and the ceremony won’t happen for another three hours after that; my mom is dead set against stopping for lunch. We arrive at the hotel and get checked in with plenty of time before the ceremony — far more time than what would have been necessary to get a meal. It’s around 1:30 by this time and I still haven’t eaten.)

Me: “How about I order mini pizza from room service?”

Mom: “No way! The ceremony is in a few hours and they are serving dinner; you can wait until then.”

Me: “That’s still hours away and I’m starving! I haven’t eaten all day!”

Dad: “Honey, we can let him order something small from room service.”

Mom: *as if we are making an absurdly ridiculous request* “No! We are not ordering him room service. They are serving prime rib for dinner and he’s not going to eat it if he has food now.”

(No food for me. The ceremony starts at 4:00 pm, but it’s at a synagogue. Dinner isn’t until later at the reception. I sit through the ceremony while listening to my stomach trying to digest itself. We are dismissed back to the hotel before the reception and we get to the hall by 7:00 pm and dinner is served. For some reason, my family isn’t seated together. My parents are with their friends, my sister is with the daughter being Bat Mitzvah-ed and her friends, and I’m with some adults I’ve never met before. Of course, I’m at one of the last tables served dinner. I see the other tables digging into their prime rib and green beans. FINALLY, my table gets our turn and the waitress plops down in front of me… the fattiest slice of beef I’ve ever seen. There are hardly any traces of meat visible.)

Me: “Excuse me. This is basically a lump of fat. Could I get another piece?”

Waitress: “Sorry, this is all that we have. We made the exact number of plates that there are guests.” *rushes away before I can say anything else.*

(So, I eat my green beans and pick out what little flecks of meat I can find while the other people at the table jokingly keep asking me if I’m enjoying my “prime fat.” Later, dessert is served, and of course, they run out of chocolate cake before they get to me, so I don’t get any dessert, either. Later, after the reception…)

Mom: “I bet you feel better now that you finally got some food.”

Me: “Not really. The meat I got was almost all fat, so I didn’t eat anything besides green beans.”

Mom: “Seriously?! You should have told us or [Friends]; they would have gotten you a better piece.”

Me: “They said they were all out, anyway. Can I please order room service now?”

Mom: “Sorry, the kitchen is closed by now. You’ll have to wait for breakfast.”

(Nothing else to do but go to bed hungry. We wake up on Sunday morning and I get showered and dressed before everyone else because I’m in a hurry to finally get my first proper meal since Friday night.)

Me: “I’m starving. Can I go downstairs and get breakfast while you guys get ready?”

Mom: “No, you can’t. You will wait for us so we can eat as a family.”

(And wait I do, yet again for more than two hours while they take their time to have some coffee, take long showers, get dressed, and apply makeup. Then, I have to wait until my mom and aunt make sure my grandparents — staying in another room in the hotel — are up and ready to go. Eventually, we make our way downstairs together. Most of my family elects to go to the breakfast buffet to get breakfast quickly. I decide to order a Belgium waffle. It takes a LONG time to get here. My grandparents have already received and finished their eggs and toast and the rest of them have had a couple of rounds at the buffet.)

Mom: “I told you that you should have gone to the buffet.”

Me: “I would have if I’d known they were going to take so long.”

(My waffle does eventually come out. I pour on some syrup and cut into it only for waffle batter to pour out like a lava flow.)

Me: *incredibly frustrated and hangry* “My waffle is completely raw!”

(My parents are in hysterics, laughing at how hard a time I’ve been having finding food this weekend. I send back the waffle and tell them I just want to eat at the buffet. I take my plate and get my first helping of random breakfast foods available and start scarfing down. I get back up to get my next course, happy to finally be able to eat a full meal.)

Mom: “That’s enough. Everyone else is done eating and they don’t want to wait for you.”

Me: *my frustration starts rising again* “No way. I’ll be done when I’m done!”

Dad: “Honey, just let him eat.”

Mom: *chuckles as she again remembers what a miserable time I’ve been having* “All right, all right.”

(I went back to the buffet and had a total of four plates.)

(I am the front desk manager at a hotel, and I recently hired a new employee to work the front desk. He has only worked two three-hour training shifts so far but it is already obvious that he is not going to work out. While he seems to be learning our reservation system easily, the guy has zero customer service skills and is incapable of following even the simplest of directions. He needs to be guided by the hand like a child in everything he does, no matter how many times he has done it. I’ve already told my boss that if I don’t see any improvement at his next shift I am going to let him go and start holding new interviews. This is the afternoon after his second shift. I stop in at a fast food restaurant to get supper for my kids and me when I hear a commotion at the front. A group of young guys are making a scene and harassing the cashier. The ringleader of the group happens to be my new employee, still in his uniform and name tag.)

My New Employee: “Look, [gay slur], you may not realize how things work in the real world but the customer is always right! I told you I want a [burger from Competitor] and I don’t care if it’s not on your menu. You will figure out how to make one and you will sell me one!”

Fast Food Employee: “I’m sorry, but I can only punch in what is on the keypad. Like I told you, the closest thing we have is [Signature Burger], which has similar toppings, but we don’t carry the sauce they use. You could—“

My New Employee: “NO! We’ve been through this. You’re not going to make me look like an idiot in front of my friends! I know I’ve ordered this before. I’m not stupid. I know you can, so just shut up and do your job or get me someone else who can!”

Fast Food Employee: “Well… Okay, let me get my manager and maybe…”

My New Employee: “Holy f***! Really?! Just punch the f****** order in and make my burger happen! I know customer service! I know what it means to please your customer and do your job properly. Now, punch in the burger that I ordered; I know you have a button for it and I expect to be heavily discounted for all this trouble! God… you young people today. I would never hire someone like you at my company.”

(I’ve had enough, both because he’s holding up the line and making me wait, and also because I can’t believe I almost let someone with this kind of attitude serve my customers and work with my staff. The manager, who has been stuck at the drive-thru this whole time, finally has enough and comes over to deal with the situation, but I can’t help myself and step in.)

Me: “Hey, [My New Employee], so, uh, what kind of pull do you have exactly? What kind of authority does six hours of receptionist training give you in the ‘real world’?”

(He turns and looks at me as though he is going to say something when a look of recognition flashes on his face and he immediately goes pale.)

My New Employee: “Oh, uh, hey, [My Name], I was, um… trying to teach this guy about customer service just like you taught me. You made me understand how important it is and… uh… I’m trying to help him, you know? I really love my job and all, and I really need my job so uh…” *chuckles* “…yeah.”

Me: “Look, I don’t care what resolution the manager gives you here tonight, but you can drop off your uniform and name tag at my office tomorrow morning. I’m not going to have somebody with an attitude like yours serving my customers. Now, please, do us all a favor and go to [Competitor] to get your burger like any normal person would do and let the rest of us get our food so we can get on with our lives and pretend that you don’t exist.”

My New Employee: “Wait, why do I have to drop off my uniform? Do you guys, like, wash it for us?”

(Some people laugh, and his group of friends groan and start to leave.)

Me: “Really? Dude, you’re fired. When you go out in public with our uniform on, you are representing our company, and I will not have you making us look bad. Please go home and take those clothes, drop them off tomorrow, and don’t ever speak to me or come near our building again.”

My New Employee: *stands there quietly as he begins to realize what has just gone down and then starts to cry* “Oh, man. Oh, man! I can’t believe this! No!”

(I ended up getting the employee discount on my order, and I made sure to leave a nice tip for the young man that was getting yelled at. The guy did drop off his uniform and tried to ask for a second chance, which he didn’t get.)