(I’m in line at a popular sandwich shop previously known for having 12-inch subs for $5. I’m behind an older man who clearly has never eaten at one of these restaurants before and has no idea how any of it works.)

Customer: “I don’t understand why I can’t get a six-inch sub for $2.50 if the footlongs are $5.”

Sandwich Artist: “The $5 price is a promotion we are running just for footlongs. It doesn’t apply to six-inch subs.”

Customer: “But you’re cheating me out of money. It’s half the size of a footlong, so it should be half price!”

Sandwich Artist: “No, sir. The $5 price is a sale; it’s a good deal specifically because it’s cheaper than what you would normally pay. Six-inch subs are still their regular price.”

Customer: “I still don’t understand why a six-inch isn’t $2.50 if a footlong is $5. You don’t get how math works.”

(The customer relents and orders his sandwich and moves on to the toppings area. This concept also seems to baffle him.)

Sandwich Artist: “What kind of bread would you like it on?”

Customer: “What do you mean? You’re going to charge me for bread, too?”

Sandwich Artist: “All of our breads are included in the cost listed.”

Customer: “Fine, give me the white bread. I know you can’t cheat me on that.”

Sandwich Artist: *probably already guessing how this was going to go* “What kind of cheese would you like?”

Customer: “No way… You’re not charging me any more for that, either.”

Sandwich Artist: “Would you like your sandwich toasted?”

Customer: “Oh, and how much does that cost? You’re trying to get even more money out of me.”

Sandwich Artist: *clearly very much done with this customer as the line is growing behind him* “Not at all… Toasting is free.”

Customer: “I don’t trust you. Don’t toast it.”

Sandwich Artist: “Very well. What would you like on it?”

Customer: “Oh, no… You’re not getting me that way, either. Just give me what comes on it for the regular price.”

Sandwich Artist: “Sir, there’s no additional charge for any toppings in this area. You can get as much as you want. Would you like lettuce and tomato?”

Customer: “And how much would that cost?”

Sandwich Artist: “As I said, it won’t cost you anything extra. You can get any of these toppings and condiments for no additional charge.”

Customer: “You’re not going to trick me that way. Just give it to me the way it is, since you’re already cheating me by not charging me $2.50.”

(The sandwich artist was clearly on her last nerve and didn’t even dare to ask if he wanted chips or a drink. The guy ended up leaving with what amounted to nothing more than cold ham on white bread.)

There is a small restaurant that I’ve grown fond of, but it’s a good distance from my home. They’re expanding, and my mother and I are excited to see that a store is opening up a few blocks from our house. We wait months for them to open, planning to be some of their best customers.

The store delivers, so we place an order shortly. We specifically clearly that the burger should have no cheese and no lettuce. The woman taking the order assures us this is no problem. Thirty minutes later, when the food arrives, the burger contains both lettuce and cheese. The lettuce can be picked off, but the cheese is melted into the sandwich.

We call the restaurant, and the person we speak with apologizes and promises they will deliver a new burger within twenty minutes. An hour passes, so we call to check on the status. A different woman answers, puts us on hold, and then hangs up on us.

Thinking it was an accident, we call back. The receiver is picked up and then immediately disconnected. We spend the next hour trying to call them, and each time the phone is picked up and quickly hung up. No new food ever arrives. My mother  — who is furious by now — leaves them a voicemail asking to be called ASAP by a manager. This, of course, does not happen.

I go to their Facebook page and contact them, detailing what has happened and reiterating that all we want is a correct sandwich. I get a poorly written message back that someone will call us the next day. This does not happen.

I send them another message through Facebook. I receive a reply a few days later that, “I chked with the manager and everythink was correc.” I respond back that no, it was not correct, and again to have someone call us. No one calls or replies to this message.

Really angry at this point, I leave a bad review on YELP hoping that will get their attention. When that does not get a response, I file a complaint with the Better Business Bureau.

Finally, nearly a month after the whole thing started, we get a very apologetic call from the owner of the store. They reviewed their security footage from the night in question and saw on tape the employees deliberately lifting the receiver and hanging up on us time and time again. The owner promises us a credit and states that two employees have been terminated over the incident.

While I’m glad to have it resolved, this was by far the worst and most bizarre bad-customer-service experience I’ve ever had. I am completely baffled why they wouldn’t just send us a new burger as promised and why it had to come down to people losing their jobs. I don’t want to see anyone unemployed, but it was good to know that at least someone in their restaurant cared about their employees acting like brats.

I worked as a cashier in a “fast casual” restaurant a while ago, so I don’t remember the dialogue for this incident, which is unfortunate. Every so often, I’ll get customers who are friends and doing their utmost to pay for the other’s meal. Usually, this resolves with one of them insisting more than the other — or getting their form of payment faster — and the other one backing down. Not this time!

Two women had come up to my line, joking with each other and with me. When I told them the total, they started arguing about who was going to pay, racing to get to their wallets first. They good-naturedly took out their credit cards and waved them at me and tried to get me to pick. Laughing but also a bit scared to pick a favorite, I took both credit cards, put them behind my back, switched them around a bit, and asked my general manager to pick a hand, any hand. The winner cheered as I swiped her card, while the loser dejectedly took hers back. I had never seen anyone be that exuberantly generous, and it put me in a good mood for the rest of the day. Good thing I had learned some basic conflict management skills!

On a snowy January day, I decided to go to a popular fast-casual restaurant known for their soup because that sounded like the perfect meal for the weather. There was no one else in line, and there were four employees working behind the counter. They all looked like they were stocking the food, with two on the bakery side and two on the cafe side.

As I stood at the register, about three feet from the closest employee, no one looked at me or spoke to me. After about thirty seconds had passed, the employee closest to me shouted for someone else to come “ring.” Still, no one told me it might be a minute or even looked at me.

The person the employee called for never came up to ring. At this point, I just wanted to see if anyone would actually acknowledge me, so I stayed quiet. They all went on working for about a minute or so when the employee closest to me who had shouted for help started complaining about the person she called for. She talked about how “lazy” and “stupid” he was because he couldn’t make it up to the front to the register.

I completely understand complaining about coworkers, but not in front of customers, especially when you haven’t even looked at them! Finally, I checked my phone and realized it had been more than three minutes since I first got to the register. Three minutes isn’t a long time, but it sure felt like it when all I wanted was them to scoop some soup into a bowl for me! By now, I wanted to make sure I was still corporeal, so I left the restaurant and got food at a different fast-casual chain. I had my food from the second restaurant in about a minute and was much happier with my meal.

My father-in-law has a saying regarding breast size: “More than a mouthful is a waste.”

My sister-in-law had just told me about it. Curious, I asked my husband to open his mouth as big as he could. He was puzzled but complied.

Shrugging, I turned to my sister-in-law and said, “So I’m wasteful.”

Knowing about his father’s saying, my husband doubled over in laughter.