I live in an area of central Kentucky that is the biggest city within reasonable driving distance from the very remote mountain communities to the east. Our city boasts amenities such as several large shopping centers, a decent-sized mall, and many types of restaurants that don’t exist in the mountain communities. 

As such, there is usually a MAJOR influx of mountain people into our city during the first week of the month when government checks and food stamps are issued. This story happens a few months after a certain very annoying country song about date night at a certain third-rate American chain restaurant comes out. 

I’m shopping at a major big box retailer in the city when I am approached by a couple who look like they are straight out of the cast of the movie “Deliverance”.

Mountain Man: “Do you know where the dang [Chain Restaurant] is?! The last time I was here, y’all had a [Chain Restaurant]! I can’t find the dang place! I want to take my wife out for date night!”

Me: “Umm, yeah, the [Chain Restaurant] closed last year. There is now a frozen custard place at the location. The nearest one is in [Other City]. Sorry about that.”

The mountain man hears my voice and starts to look at me like I have three heads! 

I’m not originally from Kentucky as I was born on Long Island, but I spent most of my childhood moving around the Mid-Atlantic states. I only moved to Kentucky after I married an Air Force sergeant from the area and he retired from the military. Quite oddly, I actually sound like I should have been in the movie “Fargo” because I sound like I’m from Minnesota or the Dakotas due to some odd fluke of linguistics.

Mountain Man: “Where the heck are you from?! I ain’t never heard anyone who talks like you! You probably have never even ate at [Chain Restaurant], so you’re lying to me about it being closed!”

The mountain man’s wife pipes in.

Mountain Man’s Wife: “She ain’t from America! She’s from Canada! I saw a lady on TikTok who was from Canada, and this lady talks just like her! She ain’t going to know anything about [Chain Restaurant]!”

I think that it’s going to end here, but the mountain man apparently assumes the worst about me and decides to take the situation too far! He sees a sheriff’s deputy in the store and decides to get his attention.

Mountain Man: *To the deputy* “You gotta arrest this lady! She ain’t supposed to be in America! She probably snuck across the border from Canada! People who talk like her ain’t from America!”

I actually know this deputy because he is a friend of my husband. The deputy sees me and starts laughing his rear end off! It is worth noting that this deputy sounds about as rural Kentucky as one could possibly sound, and he has been a deputy in this county for the past thirty years.

Deputy: *To the mountain man* “I know for a fact that this young lady ain’t from Canada! She was born in New York!”

Mountain Man: *To the deputy* “How do you know that?”

Deputy: “Well, I have known her for ten years, and I saw her birth certificate and her passport when she applied for her gun permit, and both said that she was born in New York! Her birth certificate also said that both of her parents were born in New York, too. As far as the state of Kentucky is concerned, she is an American! She just talks a little funny because she’s moved around so much during her life.”

Mountain Man: “But she probably lied to marry an American! Those foreigners will do anything for the good life in America! There ain’t no way she’s American! Arrest her for being an illegal immigrant now!”

Deputy: “You wanna bet? I went up to Minnesota to go ice fishing a few years ago, and she talks just like the people I met in Minnesota! I sure as h*** ain’t going to arrest an American just because they don’t talk like what you think that an American should sound like! You must not have gone to school because America is a big country with lots of different ways of talking!”

The mountain man starts to argue with the deputy, and they go back and forth for about ten minutes. The deputy finally throws up his hands and tells the mountain man:

Deputy: *To the mountain man* “I never want to see your sorry rear end in this county again! I won’t have you accusing American citizens of being illegal immigrants and demanding that they be deported just because they don’t talk the way that you think they should! Go back to [Mountain Community] and never come back!”

Mountain Man: “Well, I ain’t coming back to [City] because it’s a sanctuary city for illegal immigrants! I’ll drive to [Smaller City further south] for all my shopping now!”

The mountain man and his wife stormed off, never to be seen again!

Back in 1997, I was invited to interview for a tech position with a company in Kentucky. My wife and I drove for fourteen hours from two states away so I could be there for a Monday morning interview.

I arrived about twenty minutes early so I could get a feel for the place, and after a little bit, I was told that my interviewer was golfing. Instead, they set me up with the tech lead and then later the branch manager. The interviews went well, and they asked me to come back the next day to speak to the technical manager.

I came back in on Tuesday, this time with my wife, so she could meet the people who interviewed me, and we were directed to the tech manager’s office. We talked with him for about fifteen minutes before he received a phone call. At this point, he had a couple of options. He could have asked us to step out while he took the call. He could have taken the call in another office. He could’ve asked someone to take a message and call them back later.

Instead, he took the call with us in the office with him, and he proceeded to berate one of his own techs to a customer. I remember him saying, “I can’t believe we have that level of incompetence working for us!”

At that point, I didn’t know what to do. I had already committed substantial resources to driving for the interview, spending a couple of nights, and then having to drive home again. They were offering me 50% more than I was making in a field where I had no professional experience, and they were willing to train me.

I took the job, and thankfully, I didn’t have to deal with the tech manager very often.

A year and a half later, I was on contract with one of our larger accounts and had been working at their corporate headquarters for about ten months. As I was walking down the hall one day, I happened to pass my tech manager interviewing with several executives. I stuck my head in my corporate contact’s office and asked to speak with him for a few minutes. I related the story above and told him that, obviously, they could do whatever they chose, but I thought it would be a mistake to have somebody with such poor character representing their company. I don’t know what became of that situation, but I’m hoping they took my advice.

I worked at a restaurant ages ago. One coworker worked days and I worked nights but seemed like a nice guy. The thing about him is that he was morbidly obese. I say that not to mock him, but because it’s important to the story.

One weekend I picked up a day shift. My coworker was working, and he had the section next to me. We had over an hour wait for a table and we were in the weeds up to our eyeballs. Not far into our shift, the air conditioner went out. It was already a hot day so with all those people and with us rushing around, it warmed up quickly.

I was on my way to the kitchen when a table flagged me down. It was not my table, but I stopped anyway.

Customer: “Get me a manager. Now!”

Me: “Certainly, but can I first ask what the issue is?”

He pointed to the end of the table, where I could see it was wet. I grabbed the clean towel from the back of my apron, ready to wipe it up but he stopped me.

Customer: “Do you know what that is?”

Me: “Water? I—”

Customer: “No! It’s sweat. That … that tub o’ lard of a server has been dripping sweat on our table. When he delivered our food, he also delivered that!”

I had noticed that my coworker was sweating profusely as he ran around, more so than the rest of us. I myself was sweaty but it wasn’t so bad that I couldn’t hide it from my tables. My poor coworker wasn’t so lucky.

Customer: “This is disgusting!”

I had to agree but at the same time I felt bad for my coworker. It wasn’t his fault the air was out and it was super hot inside.

The manager looked like he wanted to cry when I told him about the table. He went to the table, hunkered down to their level, and talked quietly but the customers were not so kind. I could hear snippets of them yelling about germs, someone mentioned the health board, and it got to the point the bar manager joined them to see if he could help. The adjoining booths customers were listening in, and I knew that wasn’t good. My coworker stood at the top of the stairs, watching as his table loudly called him childish names about his weight.

Finally, they got up and left, their bill comped (they had not touched their food). The manager gave gift cards to the tables who had witnessed the chaos but made it seem as if they were because of the air going out, not the server.

At the end of our shift, my coworker went into a meeting with the managers. He handed in his stuff and quit, he was so mortified by what had happened. They begged him to stay, he’d been there years, but he was so embarrassed he simply refused and left without another word.

A year later, he returned to the restaurant. He had lost over 130 lbs and looked like a totally different man. He told us that day had been his wake-up call. He’d not only gone on a diet but he’d gone back to school and was on his way to doing something (I can’t recall what field of work he was studying) so he’d never have to wait tables again.

He even showed off a tattoo he had gotten on his arm. It was a pig wearing an apron, holding a heavy tray of food. The pig was struggling with the weight of it and was sweating. He said the tattoo reminded him of where he had been and where he’d never go again.

All these years later… I barely knew him, but I’ll surely never forget him.

A tornado has recently destroyed a large part of my city. When the tornado warning goes off, servers and the back-of-house staff gather up everyone. The staff goes into the walk-in coolers, and the patrons go into the bathrooms.

Chaos erupts outside, but thankfully, the building stands strong. The warning is eventually over and we all come out. An inventory of people is made: everyone is safe and accounted for. No one is hurt.

Outside, part of the parking lot is a mess. Vehicles are no longer neatly parked but have been tossed around like an upended box of Matchbox cars. Across the street… there’s destruction. The tornado plowed through the town literally across the street. We, obviously, have no power.

Then, a lady pipes up.

Customer: “So, why haven’t we gotten our food yet?”

Seriously?!

Me: “Ma’am, you were in the bathroom. The staff were in the fridge. Were you not aware that the reason for this was a tornado?”

Customer: “Well, we ordered over thirty minutes ago!”

Me: “Yes. And everyone was preparing for the storm. No one was going to continue making food and risking their lives.”

Customer: “Yes, and now it’s over. I expect my meal to be comped.”

Manager: “Well, since we have no power, you’re not going to GET your order. No one is. As of right now, we’re closed. I suggest you go see if your home is even still there.”

Customer: “You are being very rude!”

Manager: “And you’re being an idiot. Now get out of my restaurant.”

Male Voice: *From the crowd* “[Customer], let’s go see if we even have a car to take us home.”

Customer: *Storming out* “My car had better be there, or I’ll sue the s*** out of [Restaurant]!”

Male Voice: “Shut up, [Customer] just… shut the h*** up.”

The crowd slowly began to sort themselves out. I think most were in shock from seeing the mess outside, but at least everyone else had their heads screwed on straight. Even though the manager promised that meals were comped today, most people paid with cash and left impressive tips.

We got a phone call later with an angry woman’s voice screeching about how rude the staff was. The manager was the same, so she didn’t get very far.

Sometime later, higher-ups got in contact with us, not to hand down punishments, but to basically point and laugh at a series of complaints. There were several complaints about the restaurant not answering phones DURING THE TORNADO and demanding that the staff be reprimanded for job abandonment. The highlight of the list was a complaint about the restaurant refusing to serve food after the power went out and the rudeness of the manager.

It just goes to show you: nothing will stop an entitled customer from throwing a tantrum, not even a tornado.

My niece is two and occasionally likes to hang out with just me. One night, we are hiding from her mom in her closet. 

Niece: “Can you shut the door?”

Me: “I’m sorry, baby, but I can’t. You’ll have to do it.”

Niece: “Why not?”

Me: “I’m not really there. I’m just on the phone with you.”

Niece: “Oh, yeah.”

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