I received horrendously poor service from a waiter at a pub and restaurant a few years ago. It was during thirty-cent-chicken-wing happy hour, the place was just starting to get busy for dinner, and I was by myself. After a very long wait to be waited on, I ordered ten wings and the cheapest beer on the menu. The waiter looked annoyed every second that he waited on me, and my meager order was obviously a huge disappointment to him. It was clear that he had instantly written me off, knowing that his 20% tip would be very small.

After what felt like an eternity, he dropped my plate of wings in front of me and walked away in silence — no napkins, no beer. I waited for several minutes after that, looking around for him, but he had disappeared. Eventually, I spotted him on the other side of the restaurant casually chatting with another employee. I got up, walked over, and politely asked him for my beer and some napkins, and he actually scolded me for leaving my table.

Finally, having waited for what felt like twenty minutes after finishing my meal, I got up once again and found the waiter to ask for the check. Again, he scolded me for leaving the table. When he came back with the check minutes later, the bill was for $7.50.

That’s when I decided to turn this into a teachable moment. I handed him a $20 bill and told him to bring me back $5 in change, giving him a 100% tip. He stood there frozen for a few seconds, looking confused. Then, he turned completely red and lowered his head in shame.

Waiter: “I am so sorry… I’m so sorry. I’ll be right back with your change, sir.”

He turned and literally RAN to the bar to get my change and RAN back. A few seconds later, he presented me that five-dollar bill with both hands, arms outstretched, and actually BOWED as he handed it to me, saying again:

Waiter: “Oh, my God, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Me: “Yeah, you were terrible.”

Waiter: “I know… I’m sorry… That was… really bad.”

He looked like he was about to cry.

He was utterly humiliated, and I walked away with a big smile on my face. That tip might have been the best $7.50 I ever spent.

CONTENT WARNING: Death (Stranger found dead, removed by paramedics)
 

The temperature is in excess of 100 degrees Fahrenheit (37.8 C), very high even for the summer. The humidity is over 90%, and my car’s air conditioner is broken. This is the sort of weather people die in. I’m on my way to work. (I work the evening shift.)

I’m driving on a two-lane divided boulevard. It’s very narrow, there’s only one lane going in my direction, and I’m hedged in by high curbs and some nice bushes.

The van in front of me stops at the stoplight. I stop behind it. I wait. The light turns green. The van in front of me doesn’t move. The light turns red again. I wait. The light turns green. I start honking. The van in front of me doesn’t move. The light turns red again.

I physically cannot turn around on this road and find another route. I call the police. They arrive, and shortly thereafter, paramedics arrive.

They tell me that the person in the van is “unresponsive”, and I see the paramedics getting him out of the van. He’s a very large guy, and they’re being very slow about it. I notice them getting out a black bag for the stretcher. I suspect he’s dead.

I’m starting to feel very thirsty. My lips are dry, my eyes are dry, I’m having a headache, and I’m barely able to sweat despite the humidity and temperature. I suddenly start feeling quite bad.

Me: *To an officer* “When do you expect a tow truck to arrive to move the van?”

Officer: “It’s going to be a couple of hours; the tow company is backed up.”

Me: “Could I have a bottle of water, please? I don’t have any in my car.”

Officer: “We don’t have any, either.”

Me: “Okay. Then would it be okay if I leave my car here and go find a fast food place to wait and get some water?”

Officer: “No, that’s not okay. You need to remain with your vehicle so you can move it as soon as that van is towed. Otherwise, we’ll write you a citation.”

Me: “Then can I please sit in the back of one of your cars since my air conditioner doesn’t work? I’m feeling lightheaded and dizzy, and I’m on the edge of panic.”

No, that’s against their policy, too.

At this point, I’m having a panic attack. I bend over and throw up in my panic. The vomit has very little fluid in it — about the texture of corned beef hash.

This attracts the attention of the paramedics.

Paramedic: “How are you doing?”

I pathetically asked for some water, and they got me a bottle. Then, they called another ambulance for me.

I wound up in the emergency hooked up to saline drips for dehydration and heat sickness, and I missed work that day. The cops had my car towed, too, and I was charged a $345 tow fee. But at least I didn’t die.

After that, I started stocking bottled water in my car, and I stopped treating the AC as an optional component. Work, at least, was understanding since I brought a letter from the doctor when I next went in.

Customer: *Yelling demandingly* “Why is the only soda machine dispensing your own brand of cola and not Coke?!”

She is pointing at our soda machine by the entrance.

Me: “We do offer individual bottles at the register.”

I point to the registers, a few feet away.

Customer: “Ugh… that’s too far!” *Leaves*

I am working the checkout lane, and an older woman has a few items.

Me: “How are you today, ma’am?”

Customer: “Everyone is dying.”

Me: “Uh… okay?”

Customer: “Everyone is dying! Don’t you understand?”

Me: “That’ll be $7.88, please.”

Customer: “Oh, my husband will pay.”

Me: “Great! Where is he?”

Customer: “He’s dead. Everyone is dying! Or dead!”

I call over my manager as it’s becoming very apparent that this woman is not “all there”. After trying to ask her some questions, my manager eventually loses hope and figures it might be best to call the police to see if they can figure out if anyone can help her.

Eventually, a younger woman walks into the place slowly and walks straight over to the customer.

Customer’s Daughter: “Mom! There you are! I thought you might have come here.”

Manager: “Ma’am, this is your mother?”

Customer’s Daughter: “She always tries to go shopping here when I leave her alone in the mall.”

Manager: “You left her alone?”

Customer’s Daughter: “Just for a little while; I had things to do. Why, is that a problem?”

Manager: “Your mother seems… easily confused.”

Customer’s Daughter: “Well, duh. She’s old.”

Manager: “Yes, but also lost and confused. We called the police as we didn’t know who she was or where we could send her.”

Customer’s Daughter: “What?! You called the police on a harmless old woman?!”

Manager: “No, we called the police for her.”

Customer’s Daughter: “You should all be ashamed of yourselves! My mother is old and easily confused! You should have some sympathy for customers with mental issues!”

Manager: “Ma’am, while I do empathize, my staff are trained to be checkout clerks, not carers or mental health experts. If your mother is incapable of shopping on her own, she should not be on her own.”

Customer’s Daughter: “I was only gone for a few minutes! I have very important things to do, too!”

Manager: “Ma’am, you still have a piece of foil in your hair from your salon appointment. Nice highlights, by the way.” 

She reached up into her hair and found the offending piece of foil at the back. She at least had the sense to look embarrassed.

In 1968, I was a single mom, and I was very poor — so poor I couldn’t afford needle and thread to sew my good blouse with a torn sleeve at shoulder. I worked for the General Services Administration (a government agency) with two other office ladies.

The main secretary had to have major surgery, so she was off for several weeks. The other lady became ill and took extended leave, also. That left me to do all the work.

I didn’t mind as all the custodial and maintenance people told me what a great job I was doing. They all said my annual appraisal warranted an outstanding rating, meaning a bonus of $200.

My boss called me in for the appraisal.

Boss: “I think you deserve an excellent rating, but if I give it to you, I will have to fill out a lot of paperwork. Then, what will you have to work for next year?”

I was crushed and dumbfounded. It was unbelievable to the other people, as well.

Within a few months, I had found another job. Karma stepped in. [Boss] called me within a month and asked me to return as the other gals were leaving.

I declined.