(I am pregnant with my second child and a bit upset I have passed the 200-pound mark. To try to cheer me up, my mother takes me, my sister, and my daughter out to spend the day together. We have stopped at a diner for lunch and have just been seated when my daughter starts getting fussy because she is hungry.)

Customer: “Hey!” *snaps at the waitress* “That baby is causing a racket! It shouldn’t be allowed in here!”

Waitress: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but this is a family restaurant. They have every right to be here.”

Customer: “My meal has been ruined by that brat! I want it for free!”

Waitress: “I can’t do that, ma’am. You have ordered and eaten five entrees, and have already received your check. I can’t comp your entire meal just because a baby starts crying as you are getting ready to leave.”

Customer: “I’m going to call corporate on you for this! F****** brat has ruined my entire day!”

(The customer finally pays and leaves, but not without more foul language and many nasty looks in our direction. My mother has had her hand on my arm to keep me seated and has been whispering to me to stay calm the entire time. After the customer leaves, the waitress approaches our table.)

Waitress: “I’m very sorry about that. Can I get you ladies something to drink?”

Me: “Boy, I wish I could have some alcohol right now…”

Waitress: “I know how you feel. That’s the third time this month that lady has tried to get a free meal out of us.”

Me: “And I thought it was only us pregnant chicks that were that bat-s*** crazy…”

(I am working after school at my family’s pizza place during the winter of 2016. I am working at the counter and have just helped a few other students from my high school, one of whom is wearing a red hat with the text “Make Eorzea Great Again” on it. Eorzea is a fictional land from a popular online video game. The hat is essentially a meme, poking fun at the MAGA hats of the current presidential campaign. I smile at the kids from my school and tell them I’ll bring their slices over to them when they’re ready then begin helping my next customer.)

Me: “Hello! What can I get started for you?”

(Nothing but visible anger and grumbling.)

Me: “Sorry, ma’am, I didn’t catch that.”

(She walks over to the booth the prior customers sat down in and grabs the red hat off of the one student’s head.)

Angry Customer: “How can you even serve these people here? It’s f****** disgusting!”

(I see where this is going. I’ve certainly got political beliefs of my own, especially for a sixteen-year-old, but I wouldn’t dream of bringing them to my family’s restaurant. I stifle a giggle and can’t quite suppress the accompanying smile as she cuts me off before I can point out her mistake.)

Angry Customer: “How can you be laughing about this? Trump wants to send you all back to Mexico!”

(I’m Italian; my entire family is Italian. We have perhaps slightly darker skin than your run-of-the-mill northern European along with dark hair and eyes. I can’t say I’m so much insulted by the idea that she thinks I’m Hispanic — since there’s nothing bad about being Hispanic — but more just perplexed by it since, after all, we are literally in my family’s pizza place. Can you get more Italian than that? My mom peeks at me from deeper in the kitchen; she’s a very shy person, though, and despite her willingness to step in I don’t want her to have to.)

Me: “I’m genuinely sorry that you’re upset. For what it’s worth, my family immigrated here more than ninety years ago from Italy, so we won’t be going anywhere and you don’t have to worry about us—”

(I see her face drop as she realizes her mistake but then she seems to refocus her anger on the hat. She interrupts me.)

Angry Customer: “That doesn’t matter! You still shouldn’t be serving these scum!”

(She takes the hat over to the soda pump and soaks it in cola. I mentally prepare for having to pay for this kid’s hat now.)

Me: “Ma’am, just look at the d*** hat.” *rubs the bridge of my nose, done with her, and grabs the slices that are ready for the students along with some drink cups* “What does it say?”

(I set down their stuff at their table. Thankfully, they’re good sports and are just cracking up at this rather than escalating the situation.)

Angry Customer: “I know what it says! So do you! It’s racist!”

(I take the hat from her and turn it around, dripping soda onto the floor in the process, and point out the entirely fictitious place listed instead of America.)

Me: “Do you know where that is? It’s in a video game. You ripped a hat off a student from [High School] and drenched it in soda all because you got angry at what you mistakenly thought it said. At this point, I don’t even want to serve you. I think it’s best if you leave.”

Angry Customer: “That’s not the point! Why are you defending them?! It’s still furthering his agenda! Are you people here racists, too?”

(My mom has apparently gone to grab my dad who is… certainly not shy. He’s also not thrilled that he’s overheard someone calling his daughter a racist.)

Dad: “You need to leave. Now.”

(He comes around the counter and the lady yells, yanks the students’ pizza off the table and onto the floor, and takes off out the door. Dad shakes his head, smiles at me, and goes back into the restaurant, presumably to grab something to clean up the mess.)

Me: “I’m sorry about your hat and the wait, guys. I’m sure I’ll be able to comp your meal and we can pay for a new hat or something.”

Customer With The Hat: *still laughing to the point of crying* “Don’t worry about any of that! It’s all good; we don’t mind waiting as long as I can rinse this out somewhere… but did it occur to you to tell her you’re the president of the Young Conservatives at school?”

(We all shared a good laugh at that and I made some friends. I still play that online game with those guys!)

(I’ve had a large stuffed shark from a popular furniture store for a few years and it works great as a body pillow. My boyfriend and I sleep separately due to his snoring and me being a light sleeper. He often pulls the shark down from on top of the couch to wrap around while he sleeps. I’m trying to get him to go to bed one morning and I put the shark back on top of the couch, when he reaches over and says:)

Boyfriend: “Farewell, crotch shark.”

(I doubled over in laughter and he went to bed.)

(I work near the United States border at a business that mainly caters to Canadians. I wish I had a loony for every time this exchange took place.)

Me: “Okay, your total is $5.00.”

Customer: “Hmm, how much is that in Canadian?”

Me: *already wary* “If you have $7.00 Cdn, that will cover it.”

Customer: *hands me a $10*

Me: *deep, calming breath* “Okay. This Canadian ten is worth seven US dollars. You owe us five US. So, I’m going to give you two US in change. Okay?”

Customer: *thinks*

Me: *thinking* “Please understand it… Please understand it… Please understand it…”

Customer: “But you owe me $3!”

Me: *wishes we had conquered Canada back in 1812*

This story is part of our Pi Day Math roundup!

Read the next Pi Day Math roundup story!

Read the Pi Day Math roundup!

Our store is currently undergoing a remodel. This has caused plenty of confusion for both employees and guests of the store. Recently, they set up temporary fitting rooms and put a big tarp up over the old ones for demolition. After the first night of putting the tarp up, the fitting rooms hadn’t been demolished quite yet, all of the fixtures in them had been removed, and there was quite a lot of dust. The temporary fitting rooms had a large sign that said, “FITTING ROOMS,” above them and it was quite obvious that the old ones were no longer in use.

That being said… within hours of the store opening after the fixtures had been taken out, I heard the sound of the tarp moving about, so I went to go check it out. A woman, carrying about thirty items of clothing, was confused and actually tried going into the old fitting rooms. I pointed out to her where the temporary ones were, and she angrily demanded to know why it wasn’t more obvious. One, every single customer has to walk by the temporary ones to get to where the old ones were. Two, the temp rooms were painted in a bright red color. Three, it’s not like there was a sign, or anything… 

This was not the only instance of someone trying to go under the tarp, and dozens of other people asked where the fitting rooms were. The observational skills of people nowadays astounds me.