I was purchasing three cases of wine at my local liquor store, where they offer a ten percent case discount. On that day, the store’s scanning/pricing system had crashed, so the young clerk had to check me out by using a calculator to add up the cost of each bottle, applying the discount, and then manually typing the total charge into the register that had reverted to a “stone knives and bearskins” backup mode.

She finished totaling up my wine and said, half to me and half to herself:

Clerk: “Three cases at ten percent. That’s thirty percent off.”

I paused for a moment.

Me: “Hang on. I’m going back to grab seven more!”

I thought she’d catch her error and we’d share a laugh.

Instead, she replied, “Okay,” and started moving my cases to the side.

Eventually, we agreed on the proper price, but not until after my first couple of attempts to explain the math. I did earn a belated chuckle from her at the end.

I had a guest try to use a five-dollar-off coupon for a four-dollar item.

Me: “Ma’am, this coupon won’t work since your total is less than the coupon amount.”

Customer: “Then just give me the change!”

Me: “Coupons don’t work like that, ma’am, so I’m afraid you’ll have to spend another dollar.”

Customer: “Well, they did it at [Other Chain Location]! I used to work here, so I know you can!”

Me: “I’m sorry, but our registers won’t accept the coupon.”

I had to get my shift lead and have her tell the guest the same thing. The guest ended up muttering and getting all huffy, putting the coupon back, and then handing me a ten-dollar bill.

I work in a hotel lounge, and recently in my province, we’ve redone restrictions and we must now give last call at 10:00 pm. I swear, ever since this was put in place, I’ve had the thirstiest alcoholic sitting in my section at 9:30 pm having withdrawals just thinking of getting last-called. But I digress. This particular table is thirsty but very nice.

This is a table of four men. At 9:00 pm, they inquire about last call, and I promise them I’ll stay on top of their drinks before we get there. I connect with the leader of the bunch; he says he likes me and praises me often. He orders a burger with three add-ons, and he also lets me know that he wants only one bill for the table for when the time comes. He likes to drink lots, seems to have a deep wallet, pays for the whole bill, and is amicable. This is the perfect table. Easy money. I love it.

Last call came and went without a fuss. Although I slightly overserved these folks, they never slurred, got aggressive, or even displayed any rude or entitled behavior. I just liked this table in general after a really crappy wedding I had to serve the day before — a story for another day.

I brought the one bill as promised: $350 for the table. I saw them argue about the bill a bit, and then someone else from the table signed it and then went outside to mingle on our patio. To my dismay, he had tipped only $45 on the $350 bill, below 15%. The payer had even asked me to deliver two shots to another table to be put on his bill, which I had done promptly. There was no reason to stiff my tip.

But here comes the twist: he didn’t put his room number on the bill, and I couldn’t find his name in our room system. I decided to go up to the table where he wasn’t anymore and lay the bill open in front of the leader I had been connecting with all night.

Me: ”Hey, your bud forgot to put down his room number. Do you mind getting that for me, please?”

There was a pause as the guy looked a the bill.

Leader: “Is that what he tipped you?!”

YES! VICTORY IS MINE! I just stayed pleasant.

Me: “Don’t worry about it. I had a good time serving you and your friends.”

Leader: “This is unacceptable!”

He stormed outside to his friend on the patio. I didn’t hear or see the interaction, but he came back with a room number and a tip fixed to $70.

Not only did I get good money, but I got to get one under-tipper schooled by a proper tipper! Priceless.

I work in a restaurant. I had a table today where a man was introducing his baby and the baby’s mother to his mother, sister, and aunt. He was military, and I guess he’d been busy during his time away. They ordered a big chicken nacho to start, which I promptly put in.

Mind you, I was overseeing a party of twenty-five and finishing them up, and the host had told the family that they may have a few minutes of wait at the table. They were cool… at first. Once the food came out, the complaints started.

I checked on them multiple times in passing and nobody asked for anything. They asked for water for the table and also each had a beer or mocktail. Nobody asked for refills or to order another drink. They didn’t have a single auto-refill drink, but… okay, maybe I wasn’t super attentive.

The aunt went to the front and had a hissy fit about having to wait for things. My manager dealt with her, but she pulled me aside.

Manager: “I’ve been watching you, and I know you did your best with them, even if the food was kind of late behind that party of twenty-five. I’m gonna comp four cheesecake slices. You shouldn’t worry about them.”

I went and dropped off the discounted check, and I heard the aunt say:

Aunt: “I’m gonna order cheesecake for us all and get the whole bill taken care of.”

The sister and mom both cringed and made eye contact with me. I dropped off the free fifty dollars’ worth of cheesecake and brought the fussy toddler a free milk just to show I cared.

The aunt stared at the check and then violently snatched it up. I watched the baby’s mother die internally. I could only imagine she’d been dealing with this woman for hours or days and was rapidly approaching her limit. She was super sweet whenever I came back to the table. She wasn’t a problem, and I imagine she’d served before.

Not five minutes after the forty-dollar check was dropped, my manager found me, and we went to a computer to look at ring times and such. She wanted to make sure I had done my best before she stuck up for me. Everything checked out, and she decided it wasn’t worth the trouble and comped the table’s entire bill.

They seemed satisfied and left… finally. On the way out, the aunt called me “slow and shiftless” and said I should work somewhere else. I laughed in response and wished them a lovely evening.

I knew I wasn’t gonna get tipped and just started to bus the table once they were out of view. I found a twenty by where the sister was sitting and a crisp fifty in the middle of the table. I’m betting the dude left that.

As I finished up, I saw the baby’s mother speaking to my manager, who gestured toward me, and I walked over. The woman smashed a crumpled hundred into my hand and whispered:

Baby’s Mother: “I’m so sorry. I know you did your best with them.”

I almost cried.

Me: *Nodding* “Thanks so much. I hope I see you and your baby again.”

She thanked me again and walked off.

I live with my boyfriend who owns a coffee shop. People tend to scramble a few 10c or 20c coins to pay for the coffee, so we always have plenty of them laying around. I usually use them to pay for groceries.

I usually go to the same store because they have self-service checkouts so the cashiers don’t have to count the ton of coins I pay with. I always go about one hour before the closing time (because of work), take a shopping cart, pick up €50 to €100 worth of groceries, and pay at the self-service.

It never was an issue until recently. An employee stopped me as I approached the self-service area.

Employee: “You can’t take shopping carts in here.”

Me: “I’m planning to pay with a lot of coins. It would take ages for a cashier to count it.”

Employee: “It doesn’t matter; there isn’t enough space in the self-checkout area for a shopping cart.”

That’s bulls***; you could fit at least four of those carts beside each other, and somehow people with prams and buggies were allowed even if they were taking up a lot of space.

Me: “Whatever.”

I took my cart to the cashier. The shop was closing in about fifteen minutes.

My total was around €100, so I handed her a few money bags with my 10c and 20c coins. They were mixed up and not precounted.

Cashier: “You should really take this to the self-service area.”

Me: “Well, it’s somehow store policy that I’m not allowed over there with a cart, so unfortunately, you’ll have to count all these coins. I’m in no rush, so you can take your time. Thank your colleagues if you want to.”

I left the store twenty minutes past closing time. If I was using the self-service, it would have taken me five minutes.