I work at a super high-end restaurant. There’s no way around it: our place is pricey. Tourists will come here for special occasions or to splurge with recent casino winnings, and on average, each diner can expect to spend around a thousand dollars each for a meal with drinks.

Because of this, we often get famous people and celebrities dining with us. But also, unfortunately, we get influencers.

This group of girls comes in with their phones out, making their entrance videos.

Influencer #1: “Hey, guys, I’m here at [Restaurant] to show you all…”

Influencer #2: “…here to show you some fine dining and…”

Influencer #3: “Don’t forget to smash that like button and subscribe!”

I internally roll my eyes, but whatever, they’re customers, and we pride ourselves on customer service.

They’re seated, and they start with a platter of entrees, a good choice for the Instagram crowd. I bring out the tray.

Influencer #1: “Is that it?“

Me: “Is there a problem, ma’am?”

Influencer #2: “We asked for the platter. Plat… ter!“

Me: “This is the entrée platter, ma’am.”

Influencer #3: “There are only, like, six things on there!”

Me: “Yes, ma’am, that is the size of the platter.”

Influencer #1: “But your menu has like, seventeen entrees!”

Me: “The platter is our signature selection; it’s not meant to be every entrée.”

Influencer #1: “Whatever. It doesn’t look good for you, but whatever.”

I leave them to “enjoy” their platter and make their videos while I attend to more respectful tables. Eventually, they order some main courses and sides, and I bring them out.

Influencer #1: “Excuuuuuse me! I wanted my steak medium rare.” 

She shows me a piece of cut-off steak.

Me: “That is medium rare, ma’am.”

Influencer #1: “I don’t think so! Let’s see what my 10,000 followers think!”

This influencer then tries to go to some live feed on her phone and get me in the shot.

Influencer #1: “Continuing my disappointing experience at [Restaurant], our waitress here claims that this steak is medium rare. What do you all think?”

I simply walk away, refusing to be part of her circus. I hear a few “Hey! We’re talking to you!” comments from the table, and they’re seriously at risk of making a scene, so I fight the urge to walk away and turn around.

Me: “Ladies. May I draw your attention to the other side of the restaurant? There you will see a certain famous celebrity chef dining with us tonight.”

The influencers do indeed follow my gaze to see a famous British chef, known for not mincing his words, enjoying a meal with some friends on the — thankfully — far end of the restaurant where we seat celebrities who don’t want to be disturbed.

Me: “He has ordered steak here before and has had zero problem with how our award-winning chef prepares them. If you do not like your steak the way it is prepared, I can bring you a new one based on your specific requirements, but I will not be part of your social media, and I will not accept that your steak isn’t medium rare when it clearly is.”

The influencers are surprisingly silent.

Me: “Now, since this is medium rare, but you do not like it, it seems you don’t actually want medium rare. Would you like this steak cooked more or less?”

After dumbing it down a little for her, it seems she wanted medium to well-done. They ate the rest of their meal in relative silence, still getting their social media on but no longer bothering staff or anyone else about it.

They didn’t tip, of course, but they stopped complaining, so for me, that was a win.

Customers buying plane tickets at the airline’s customer service desk at the airport rarely happens outside of the movies, but it does happen occasionally.

Customer: “I need the next flight out; it’s urgent.”

Me: “What is your destination, sir?”

Customer: “It doesn’t matter! Just your next flight!” 

Me: “Uh… well, that would be Chicago in about forty minutes.”

Customer: “No, you idiot! International flight!”

Me: “That would be London Heathrow in about seventy minutes.”

Customer: “London, as in England?”

Me: “The United Kingdom, yes.”

Customer: “Do they have extradition treaties with the US?”

Me: “I… believe they do, sir.”

Customer: “S***! When is the next flight out to a country that doesn’t have extradition rights with the US?”

Me: “I… don’t have that knowledge to hand, sir.”

Customer: “Ugh! Useless! Fine, I’ll take the flight to London, but if they find me when I get there, I’ll complain!”

This guy spent $3,000 for a last-minute economy ticket to London, one-way. Just to be safe, I told my manager, who in turn told airport security and TSA, but I don’t know what came of it.

I wonder if “they” found him?

I am a network engineer working on an Air Force base. I am not an NCO (Non-commissioned Officer) or an officer; I am a contractor from an outside company. My assignment is to write new access control lists and do a bunch of other tasks to about 200 network switches to make sure they are in compliance with certain rules. It’s tens of thousands of changes overall, and I have been putting in a lot of (paid) overtime to try and get it done sooner.

It’s early in the day when one of the senior Airmen comes over to talk to me.

Senior Airman: “We have an outage over at [Site], and I’ve been asked to take you there in case any of the changes you made caused it to go down.”

I get the IP address from him and type it into my terminal. It does not come up in my session history, so that means it is the first time I have ever used this IP address. I attempt to access it and the connection fails, showing that the IP address is not found on the network.

Me: “I don’t have a session for that node saved in [Application]. It does not look like I made any changes to it.”

Senior Airman: “They still want you to go with me to check it out.”

So, I pack up my laptop and brave the heat of the Nevada desert in June, and he drives me out to a remote part of the base. This location is used to store missiles, so it is not someplace that even my senior Airman companion can enter unescorted. We have to wait for someone to drive us up and walk us into the affected area.

When I get there, I find that there are a number of small buildings, each with their own computer stations, printers, phones, etc. Only one of those buildings is affected by the outage, and no critical or security systems are down. All it means is that the handful of people there have to walk next door to get on the network or make a phone call. It’s annoying, sure, but not a critical issue.

When the Airman and I get to where the switch is, we immediately see the problem. There are no lights at all from the switch, and it is plugged directly into the wall! You never plug enterprise-class networking equipment directly into power outlets without something to insulate it from power surges.

Senior Airman: “Uh… where’s the uninterruptable power supply?”

I trace the power cables to confirm.

Me: “Why is your switch directly connected to your power outlets?”

The recruit who was left with us has no idea what we are talking about. I try to turn on the light in the area to see better, but it won’t turn on.

Recruit: “We had a power surge last night and that light doesn’t work anymore. Totally fried our printer, too.”

Me: “I think it fried more than that.”

Senior Airman: “That might have been something you guys should have mentioned in your call.”

I unplug the switch’s two power supplies and test the outlets with my laptop.

Me: “Looks like power on this circuit is still good, but your switch is dead.”

Recruit: “Can you fix it?”

Senior Airman: “No, we’re going to have to return it. We’ll see if we can get another one out here… and an UPS to make sure it is protected from power surges.”

So, that is half a day of my time wasted. When I am done for the day and it is late in the evening, I fill out my daily report — a report read by government representatives, a higher-ranking NCO on base, and three of my bosses — and I am so annoyed that I must admit I lose a touch of my usual formality and it contained the following bullet point in the middle.

Report: “I was taken out on site to examine a down switch that was suspected of being disabled due to the changes I have been making to the network. Upon examination, it was discovered that improper installation has allowed a power surge to cause the switch to be downgraded from ‘critical network access device’ to ‘$11,000 paperweight’.”

I get back to my hotel pretty late and go to bed. The next morning, I call into a scheduled phone meeting. The only other participant who has arrived so far is one of my bosses. We exchange pleasantries, and then…

Boss: *Poorly trying to contain his laughter* “So… $11,000 paperweight, huh?”

I work in one of those over-the-top fast food places that you only really find on The Strip in Las Vegas. There are several eating challenges where if you eat a certain amount, then it’s free, and we take your polaroid for a “wall of fame.”

We have an item on the menu that isn’t part of this deal but is equally ridiculous. I can’t say its real name but it’s something like the OCTUPLE-CHEESE QUADRUPLE-PATTY CHEDDAR EXPLOSION. Seriously, it is that ridiculous. Only in America can a heart attack be a challenge, not a fear.

A family walks in, and one of the guys wants to try this cheese explosion. His family sits down, and I bring out their orders. After a few minutes, they call me over.

Customer: “There’s something wrong with my burger.”

Me: *Eyeing the cheese explosion* “What’s that, sir?”

Customer: “There’s not enough cheese.”

I am eyeing the ridiculous cheese-to-literally-everything-else ratio as eight types of cheese meltingly ooze from his burger in all directions.

Me: “That is the… uh… standard amount of cheese that comes with the octuple-cheese quadruple-patty cheddar explosion, sir.”

Customer: “It’s just… I wanted more.”

Me: “Would you like me to—”

Customer: “I’m not paying for this.”

He takes another bite. Cheese oozes further onto his plate.

Me: “If you’d like to order something else, I can take this and—”

Customer: “No, I’ll finish it. I’m just not paying for it.”

Me: “Sir, if you continue to finish the meal, then you will have to pay for it.”

Customer: “Are you [slur for disabled people]? I’m… not… paying.”

As soon as he uses that word, I am done. I get my manager and explain the situation. My manager approaches the table.

Manager: “Excuse me, sir. My waiter told me that you have an issue with your meal?”

Customer: “Yes! I wanted more cheese! I didn’t get the expected amount.”

Manager: “I can also see that you’ve almost finished your meal.”

Customer: “I’m hungry! I’ll finish it, but I won’t be paying for it.”

Manager: “Sir, if you have an issue with your meal, we are happy to replace it provided you haven’t finished it, but if you proceed to finish it, then we will have to charge you for the meal.”

Customer: “Seriously? I am not paying. I made a complaint. Why aren’t you upholding a customer complaint?”

Manager: “Because, sir, you ordered the OCTUPLE-CHEESE QUADRUPLE-PATTY CHEDDAR EXPLOSION burger and thought to yourself, ‘What this needs is more cheese.’”

Customer: “You… You’re making me sound unreasonable!”

Manager: “Am I? I’ll have [My Name] come by with your check.”

He simmered. He finished his meal. He paid. There were huge clumps of cheese left on his plate.

Related:
Seriously Cheesed Off, Part 4
Seriously Cheesed Off, Part 3
Seriously Cheesed Off, Part 2
Seriously Cheesed Off

I am on a family trip with my parents, my uncle, and his three kids. My uncle’s wife divorced him, leaving him to take care of his kids. My parents run a small leather business, so they’re going to be selling to gas stations and a few other places. They dump [Uncle], the kids, and me at the hotel, which has a casino inside. I watch TV for a bit, and then [Uncle] comes to my room.

Uncle: “Hey, I’m going out. Watch the kids?”

He then leaves before I can get a word in edgewise. I go down to the front and find that they also have a daycare center. Thank God. I ask them to charge it to the card the hotel is on, and then I head off to the casino. Eventually, [Uncle] comes over.

Uncle: “Where are the kids?”

I point him to the daycare center. It is of note that he has had anger issues in the past. These come into full effect as he starts yelling at me. I ignore him and go back to my game.

Security comes over, and [Uncle] is suddenly meek and quiet.

Uncle: “I asked [My Name] here to watch my kids, and now they’re nowhere to be found.”

Me: “He didn’t ‘ask’ me; he just said, ‘Watch the kids?’ and left. They are now at the daycare.”

It becomes a he-said-she-said situation, so I stand up, beckoning for them to follow, and lead them to the daycare.

Apparently, [Child #1] was too wild, and [Child #2] had hit another child and made them bleed. [Child #3] is coloring. [Uncle] has to pay an extra fee, and [Child #2] has to be moved to a special group.

Eventually, my parents come back, wondering what this charge on their card is. The hotel staff explain, and they are not happy.

Tomorrow comes, and guess what? [Uncle] takes off again, this time without telling me. I only find out when [Child #3] knocks on my door. Apparently, his brothers pushed him out and locked the door behind him. He asks if we can go back to the daycare, and I ask the hotel staff to charge me this time.

I eventually go back to the casino and play a few rounds, but the hotel staff come to me, saying there’s been a noise complaint. I ask them to call my parents’ number, and they agree.

Eventually, I run down on cash and go back to my room. My parents and [Uncle] are in the middle of the hallway, arguing. I slip past them and into the room and turn on the TV.

Later, I come out for a snack, and they turn to me, asking why I didn’t check on the kids. I tell them [Uncle] didn’t even knock on my door; [Child #3] did. I then realize he’s still down at the daycare, and it is quite late. I run quickly down and find he’s playing hide and seek with a few other kids. I bring him back up.

My parents and [Uncle] are still arguing. It’s a mess.

This goes on for several days. [Uncle] tries to dump kids on me, I refuse, and I either go to the arcade, stay in and watch TV, or go to the casino. I eventually rack up quite a bit of money. I had $150 at the start, and that turns into almost $400.

It’s been almost a week here, and everyone is getting really sick and tired of [Uncle]’s crap. [Child #3] can now walk down to the daycare and back, all on his own. [Child #1] and [Child #2] get lost several times and have to be found by hotel staff.

This all boils up when the hotel manager knocks on our door, telling us that we’ve had several noise complaints, broken items, and wandering children.

I point out that it’s not us, it’s [Uncle], so he should pay for it, or at least be here. Lo and behold, who opens his door? It’s [Uncle]. In the split second that his door is open, I can see the broken TV, towels and blankets all over the floor, and the curtains ripped down.

The hotel manager apparently misses this, asking about the noise violations and crashes they’ve been hearing. [Uncle] becomes increasingly agitated and aggressive. During this, I see [Child #3] come around the corner on his way back from the daycare. I quickly wave him away, and he turns to leave. But then, my mother sees him. She begins to question [Uncle] on why [Child #3] is out. I slowly walk [Child #3] back to the daycare.

But when I get back, the argument has reached a fever pitch. I hate yelling, and [Uncle] is screaming. He turns on me.

Uncle: “Your job is to watch the kids, and you couldn’t even do that!”

At this point, I’m done. I’ve been sharing a room with my parents for a week, I can’t go anywhere without getting harassed by [Uncle], and I can’t stay in cause of the noise [Child #1] and [Child #2] make. I turn on [Uncle] and start screaming.

Me: “YOU THINK I WANTED TO WATCH YOUR TWO LITTLE BRATS? YOU DIDNT EVEN ASK! YOU JUST DUMPED THEM ON ME AND GOT ALL TICKED OFF WHEN I BROUGHT THEM TO SOMEONE WHO COULD ACTUALLY GIVE THEM ATTENTION! LITERAL DEMONS WOULD BE BETTER THAN THOSE BRATS YOU CALL KIDS! NO WONDER [CHILD #3] DOESN’T WANT TO BE AROUND THEM! THEY CLEARLY LEARNED THEIR LACK OF MANNERS FROM YOU! THANK GOD [CHILD #3] IS ACTUALLY SANE! IT’S NO WONDER YOUR WIFE LEFT YOU IF YOU ACT LIKE THIS!”

I turned and marched back into the room, flopped on my bed, and turned on the TV. I snubbed my parents when they came back in, seeing as I was still mad.

It turns out they had paid for all of [Uncle]’s mess (again), and we were now banned from the hotel. Including me.

I yelled, but what else did I do?