(I always have the habit of knocking on the toilet door at work before I open the door. We always keep the door closed. This particular day I knock and get no answer, so I try the door handle only to find it locked. I just figure someone is in there, so I go back to work. A little while later my manager comes in.)

Manager: “Was that you trying to get into the toilet when I was in there?”

Me: *thinking she was letting me know it was now free to use* “Yeah, it was me.”

Manager: “What the h***? Why would you try to get in when I was in there?”

Me: “I didn’t know you were in there. I knocked on the door and got no answer”

Manager: “Oh, I wondered why someone was knocking on the door, but really you should have known I was in there because the door was closed.”

(I’m working as crew leader at the front counter on a very busy day. A middle aged man I recognise as being a difficult regular storms in five minutes after I handed him his food through the drive-thru. He’s followed closely by what I assume from their similar faces is his adult daughter, who is carrying a small toddler on her hip and looks livid.)

Regular: *slamming his bag down on the counter* “Listen, I don’t know how hard it is to make a burger correctly, but this is the third time this week I’ve had to bring my food back! Absolutely ridiculous!”

(My trainee who is on register looks at him like a deer in headlights and looks to me for help as he continues yelling. While he’s not swearing he is definitely making a scene. Before I can finish pouring the drink I was halfway through making and get over there, his angry looking daughter steps up to the counter. I brace myself for more yelling, but I wasn’t prepared for what came next.)

Daughter: “Dad! That is enough! I worked at a [Chain] for three years, and your son still works at another one! How many times did I come home crying because customers were screaming at me for stuff that wasn’t my fault? How many times did you try to cheer me up by mocking them? That’s what these employees are going to do. They’re going to go home and laugh about the grumpy old man who got his underwear in a knot over a three-dollar burger! Go back to the car. I said I’d handle it!”

(Her father splutters for a few seconds but his daughter will not budge. She’s standing between him and the counter glaring him down. Just then, the little toddler she’s carrying pipes up.)

Little Girl: “Poppy! Don’t be rude! They’s doing they job! Have to use manners in the shop!”

(Her father slinks out of the restaurant and the woman turns around, suddenly all smiles and politeness.)

Daughter: “Hi! So sorry about him; he always does this and I’d finally had enough. These two burgers were wrong and we got the wrong drink; could we please just fix that up?”

Little Girl: “Excuse me! You forgot my toy. Can I please have a toy?”

(We fixed their order and threw in some extra toys for the little one. A few weeks later, the regular came back in when we got one of his drinks wrong and was quiet, polite, and well mannered through the entire thing. We haven’t had a problem with him since, all thanks to a daughter who remembered her time in fast food!)

(This happens in the days before self-service petrol stations. We are heading to a fancy dress party, with my male cousin dressed as a woman.)

Service Attendant: *approaching the driver’s window from behind and noticing what looks like a gorgeous redhead in the driver’s seat* “Hi, honey, what can I get you today? How about my phone number?”

Cousin: *giggling like a girl and acting embarrassed, with his hands covering his lower face, turns, and bats his eyes at the attendant* “Ooh, can you fill it up please?”  

Service Attendant: *winking and smiling* “Sure thing, honey.”

Cousin: *using his normal, deep, male voice* “And hurry up about it.”

Service Attendant: *looks back in shock at my cousin, who has now revealed his bearded chin*

(After we drive away and are all having a good laugh:)

Cousin: “That felt so good. I can’t understand how you lot have to put up with that sort of s*** constantly. The look on his face was so worth it.”

(A coworker has come to me about a refund that she is unsure about.)

Coworker: “I have a lady who wants to return knitting needles, but I wasn’t sure if we did refunds on those.”

Me: “Yeah. We shouldn’t, but we do. Where’s the lady? I’ll help her.”

(She leads me over to an elderly lady who is standing near our knitting needle displays.)

Customer: “Hello, dear. I have some knitting needles here that I would like a refund for. Can you do that?”

Me: “I can, but first I need to see what needles they are, and I will need the receipt.”

Customer: “Oh, I don’t have the receipt.”

(She starts pulling out needles that are so old that they are in imperial sizing. They look ancient.)

Me: “Um, we don’t sell these brands. Did you say you bought these here?”

Customer: “Oh, no, I’ve had these at home for years. I can’t knit anymore. I just want a refund.”

Me: “I’m sorry; that’s not how refunds work. We can only refund on brands we sell, that you have actually bought from us, and have a receipt for.”

Customer: “But you sell knitting needles.”

Me: “Yes, we do, but we don’t sell or buy used knitting needles. I am so sorry, but there’s nothing I can do.”

Customer: “I am sorry for taking up your time; thank you for being patient.”

(As she shuffles off my coworker turns to me.)

Coworker: “Oh, thank you for that; I didn’t know what to do with her.”

(I felt so bad for the old lady.)

(I work at a large pizza chain. One day we get an order for several pizzas, which we fill. However, someone misreads the slip and makes the wrong pizza. The customer comes in to collect her order before we can fix it.)

Me: “We’re really sorry, but we made you [Pizza #1] instead of [Pizza #2]. We can remake it if you’re willing to wait.”

Customer: “No, don’t bother. I’m happy with [Pizza #1]. How much do I owe you?”

(I give her the total, which is a little over $20. She pulls out a $20 note, but then her face goes pale.)

Customer: “I’m so sorry. I dropped the other $20 on the way here. I could go home and grab more money.”

(Since she was so nice about the pizza, and since she’s only short a couple of dollars, I wave her off. A few weeks later, we get an order for the same customer. I’m not working that night, so I am told about this later. The customer comes in, collects her pizzas — correctly made this time — and then goes up to pay.)

Customer: “I was here a few weeks ago. I dropped part of the money that I was going to use to pay for the pizza, and the person on the counter was nice enough to let me go. I’ve brought in the amount I was short last time. Can you try to make sure that she gets it? Her name was [My Name].”

(I’ve had customers who were short. On the very rare occasion, they may pay it back. But I’ve never had a customer not only return the money, but remember the person who covered the missing amount.)