(I am the manager of a bar & grill in Brooklyn. It’s the week of Christmas and we are of course very busy. On this night I’m serving drinks at the bar itself, when I notice a commotion from a table nearby, where an elderly couple is having dinner.)

Man: “Hey, come back here!”

Waitress: “Yes, sir?”

Man: “I ordered a skirt steak, medium rare!”

Waitress: “Yes, sir, that is indeed what I brought out.”

Man: “And you didn’t notice something wrong?”

Waitress: “Excuse me?”

Man: “The sauce bottle on this table is empty!”

(He holds up a bottle of steak sauce that is indeed completely empty.)

Waitress: “Oh, dear, so it is! I’m sorry I did not notice that. I’ll get you a new one right now!”

(She rushes back to the kitchen and returns immediately with a full bottle of sauce. The man grumbles as he accepts it and then things quiet down… until the two finish their meal and the waitress returns to collect their plates.)

Waitress: “So, how was everything?”

Man: “It was fine… once we had what we needed to eat it! I know you’re probably preoccupied with thinking about spending Christmas Day alone with a bottle of cheap vodka but that’s no excuse for not doing your job!”

(I look up and the waitress looks quite shocked.)

Man: “I was thinking of ordering the cheesecake on your menu, but I suspect if I did you’d just bring me an empty plate and a fork.”

(I note the waitress trembling slightly, yet ever the professional she just picks up their plates without complaint.)

Man: “Well? What? Aren’t you going to say anything?”

Waitress: “Sir, I’m sorry about the sauce. I assure you it was not intentional, and you don’t need to say such unkind things to me.”

(The man suddenly slams his fist on the table.)

Man: “That’s no excuse! Where the hell is your manager?”

(She turns and points to me. The man promptly stands up and walks over to me.)

Man: “This incompetent woman ruined a very nice night out for me and my wife! I demand you do something!”

Me: “Okay. Seeing as I witnessed everything from where I’m standing, I can do one of two things: either I can make you pay your bill and ban you from ever coming here again, or I can call the police and have you arrested for harassing my staff.”

Man: “WHAT?!”

Me: “[Waitress] is right. You have no excuse for berating her over a simple mistake. It’s busy and we can’t keep an eye on everything. If you’re going to be this unpleasant then please leave and never show your face in here again.”

Man: “But… it’s Christmas!”

Me: “Then how about showing some good will to your fellow men and women? Namely by paying your bill and removing yourself from the premises?”

(Thankfully he did just that, albeit leaving no tip, and we have yet to see him or his wife again.)

(I work at a clothing store.)

Me: “Hello, ma’am, how may I help you today?”

Customer: “BLEHHHH.” *flails arms*

Me: “Um, ma’am, are you all right?”

Woman: “I am not a ‘ma’am.’ I am a f****** lady!” *slaps my face and walks off*

Me: “…”

(My husband, daughter, and I are going to an 18-and-over show for our daughter’s 18th birthday. My husband is 6’8″, while I am barely 5 feet tall and am often mistaken for being much younger than I am. We are stopped at the door.)

Usher: “Sorry, sir, you can’t bring your kids in here. It’s 18 and up.”

Husband: “That’s okay; we’re all of age.”

(The usher looks annoyed.)

Usher: “Can I see some ID, then?”

(We all present our IDs. The usher looks at mine, then at me, then at my ID again, and his jaw visibly drops.)

Usher: “This is real?”

Me: “Yep.”

Usher: *to husband* “You’re not their dad?”

Husband: “I’m her dad.” *points to our daughter* “But that’s my husband.” *points to me*

Usher: *hands our IDs back and waves us in, speechless*

Daughter: “I think we just broke his brain.”

(In the back of the store, we have a lounge for people waiting for friends and family to finish shopping. A woman emerges from the fitting room wearing an outfit from our racks. She walks over to the lounge and lounges back on the couch and asks me to bring a mirror. I bring out a standing mirror for her, then she asks for bottled water. She spends some time preening and posing in the mirror, then shakes her head angrily.)

Customer: “Is there another couch somewhere?”

Me: “No…. May I ask why?”

Customer: *sighing* ”I want to wear this to Christmas, but I have no idea how I’ll look in it. I’ll be sitting on my sister’s couch and that is FOREST GREEN and more of a rigid upholstery. I’m afraid I JUST can’t get this if I can’t see what I’ll look like on that couch!”

Me: “I honestly don’t have another couch to offer you…”

Customer: “HONESTLY! I swear this place has no service!”

(It is the holiday season and the staff are having an ugly sweater day. I’m wearing my sweater over a regular outfit, one I love. My sweater is hideous and several customers say they love it until one man, whom I spent over ten minutes assisting finding books.)

Customer: “I have to say, your sweater!”

Me: *chuckling* “Oh, yeah, it’s our ugly sweat—”

Customer: “I mean, it’s hideous! And the whole outfit! Ugh! The socks and shoes, too!”

Me: “…”