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Arcade Fire

, , , , | Right | June 19, 2025

I work in a gaming arcade. I’m working the prize counter while kids run wild on the skee-ball machines and teens hover near the racing games. A very intense dad, clutching a fistful of crumpled prize tickets, rushes over.

Customer: “I added it up. This is exactly 4,100 tickets.”

Me: *Scanning the pile.* “Alright, that’ll get you anything in the third shelf and below.”

Customer: “My son wants the mini speaker and the lava lamp. That’s 5,000 total. But we’ve been here for three hours.”

Me: “Okay?”

Customer: *Stares expectantly.*

Me: “Sir, I can’t give you both.”

Customer: “But we spent money. A lot of money.”

Me: “And you got a lot of tickets.”

Customer: “So what are you gonna do?”

Me: “…Give you a choice between the mini speaker or the lava lamp?”

Customer: “You’re telling me there’s no reward for loyalty?”

Me: “Sure, there is. It’s called three hours of fun.”

There’s an intense stare off for a second, broken by his son asking out loud:

Customer: “Dad, what’s a lava lamp?”

This Time It’s Not The Kids Who Get The Grilling

, , , , , | Related | June 19, 2025

This story reminded me of something that happened when I was a young teen. My mom’s house has a big yard, as well as a deck that has a pool and a grill set up. One day, we were getting ready to host some friends, she turned the grill on and went back inside to get the food and fixings. 

I’m helping set up the patio table and other assorted things for our get-together. Our grill included an attachment on the side that had a hotplate/warmer type feature that’s wired into the side. 

While setting the table, I notice flames coming out of the SIDE, against the hotplate. I run inside.

Me: “Mom, the grill’s on fire.”

Mom: “I know, I turned it on while I finished getting the meat ready.”

Me: “No, Mom, the grill is actually on fire.”

Mom: “It’s fine, I’ll be right up. Just close the lid so it won’t catch.”

Me: “MOM! The OUTSIDE of the grill. Is… On… Fire!”

This seems to do the trick, as she drops the food and runs outside. She gets it put out, the hotplate piece is absolutely ruined, apparently the wires had come loose and ignited, but luckily the main grill is fine. Even more luckily, neither the propane tank, the wooden deck, nor the giant tree nearby caught fire.

Mom: “…okay, maybe I’ll stay with the grill, and you can go get the food.”

Me: “That sounds like a great idea.”

Nothing Screams Elegance Like Cartoon Stingray Plushies!

, , , | Right | June 19, 2025

I’m working in an aquarium gift shop that mostly caters to children. A woman walks over, giving the entire store a look of disdain. She has three young children who are excitedly running around the store.

Customer: “Is this… everything?”

Me: “This is the gift shop, madam.”

Customer: “But, this is the whole shop?”

Me: “Yes, madam.”

Customer: *Deep sigh.* “I was hoping for something a bit more refined.”

Me: “Well, we do sell some very good quality coffee-table books, and some—”

Customer: “I’m shopping for my children! They’re not interested in books!”

Me: “Well, I can assure you that all of our items are of good quality and—”

Customer: “It’s all tacky stuff made in China! Why doesn’t your store cater to a more refined clientele?”

Me: “It’s mostly for children, madam. We also sell some good quality snow globes, if your children appreciate something more decorative?”

Our snow globes are pretty pricey and very well made, so I hope these will seem ‘refined’ to her.

Customer: “These seem… better. But are these the classiest things you have?”

Me: “These are the classiest things we sell that don’t squeak when you press them.”

Customer: *Deepest sigh.* “I suppose this will do. I was just hoping for something more…” *Gestures to the entire store in desperation.* “…refined.”

Her tone, and the way she looked me up and down with contempt finally got to me. I admit I shouldn’t have said what I said next, but I was also proud of coming up with it on the fly:

Me: “Madam, we’re a gift shop at an aquarium. The only thing refined here is the saltwater.”

She clutched pearls, rounded up her three children, and made her way to the exit.

When Lazy Parents Find New Buzzwords

, , , , , , | Right | June 18, 2025

I am a server in a mid-to-upscale restaurant. The kind of place that targets middle-class folks for their special occasions. So, most people who come in are dressed and behave well because it’s their special birthday dinner or the like.

All things considered, I have had a relatively drama-free time working there with a pretty notable exception.

A woman comes in with her partner and two children, a boy and a girl who appear to be twins, around eight or nine years old. The first warning flag was how the kids were dressed. While the woman and her partner are both in nice dresses and look as you would expect for a nice dinner out, the children wore mismatched flip flops, dress-up costumes, and the little boy had a hat that had LED lights all over it and kept flashing. When they came in, my manager made a straight line towards them.

Manager: “Hello, ma’am, I’m sorry to stop you like this, but our dining room does have a dress code, and I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask that the children change before we can seat you.”

Woman: “Oh, they are autistic.”

She doesn’t get upset or agitated or seem like she is arguing at all, just casually and calmly says it as if that is supposed to explain everything.

Manager: “Well, ma’am, that may be, but many of our guests are here to celebrate big events and have saved up to come here. As such, we ask that people be respectful, and things like your son’s hat can be quite the interruption to a special occasion dinner.”

Woman: “Oh, he wanted to wear that, and he’s autistic.”

She just sort of shrugs when she says that.

My manager is typically pretty good about having a backbone, but she’s a single mom with a non-verbal autistic son, and I guess the woman claiming her twins were autistic struck a heart string, so she made an exception. She asks the woman to remove the son’s hat, but lets them be seated. My manager then gets called away to deal with a back-of-house semi-emergency, so is unavailable for a period of time.

As soon as the family is seated, the children scatter. Running around the dining room, yelling, and throwing things at each other. I approach the mother and her partner.

Me: “Excuse me, ma’am, please keep your children seated as they are disturbing the other guests.”

Woman: “Oh, they are autistic.”

She says this, then just gives me a blank look like she has just answered my question and is waiting to see if I want anything else.

Me: “You’ve said that, however, I will have to ask that you keep them in their seats.”

Woman: “It’s okay, they are autistic. While you are here, can you tell me about the fish special?”

I’ll be honest, this catches me off guard, and I just kind of go into autopilot and start giving my speech about the specials of the day. Suddenly, I hear a commotion behind me. I turn around to see that the little girl has grabbed a steak off of another diner’s plate and thrown it at the boy, and she is about to follow it up with a handful of mashed potatoes when my manager comes storming back into the dining room from wherever she had been.

Manager: “That’s enough!”

The ‘mom-voice’ seems to shock the kids into compliance, who at least come back to stand by their mother’s table.

Manager: “Ma’am, that is enough, your children have been a disturbance, damaged property, and now have stolen food from other patrons. I will need your credit card information to pay for the damages and replacement meals. Following that, you, your partner, and your children are permanently banned from [restaurant].”

Woman: “Oh no, it’s like I told you before; they are autistic.”

Manager: “That is irrelevant, please give me your credit card or I will call the police.”

Woman: “…but they are autistic.”

Eventually, the woman provides the credit card information, and the family is escorted out. I later found out that in addition to the food fight I had witnessed, the kids had also knocked a picture off the wall and broken the arm off of a chair when climbing on it.

The strangest part of all to me was that at no point did the woman get mad, or yell, or anything. She just kept saying ‘they are autistic’ and seemed genuinely baffled that people didn’t just go ‘Oh, okay, carry on then’. And throughout all of it, her partner didn’t say anything either, just kind of quietly followed.

When The Customer Is Causing Friction

, , , | Right | June 17, 2025

I am working at a roller-skating rink. It’s a busy Friday night. A dad in his 40s had rented some skates for his daughter and him, but he’s back within five minutes with an issue:

Customer: “I need to talk to someone. It’s too slippery.”

Me: “Slippery how? Like the wheels are too fast?”

Customer: “No, like the floor’s too smooth. She almost fell.”

Me: “Well, it’s a skating rink… the goal is to glide.”

Customer: “But you could put down some mats or something.”

Me: “Sir, I can tighten the wheels if they’re too loose, but—”

Customer: “—You’re not listening. The floor’s the problem. It’s too slippery!”

Me: “Sir, that’s not a flaw. That’s literally the point.”

Customer: “It’s dangerous!”

Me: “Sir, that’s like complaining your boat’s too floaty.”

Customer: “I want a refund! This place is too dangerous!”

Since they had only been here for five minutes, we honored the refund, much to the displeasure of the poor daughter who had obviously been enjoying herself.

As we handed back the cash to the dad, he said:

Customer: “We’re going to the rink on the other side of the lot where they respect safety!” *Storms out.*

Coworker: *To me.* “Isn’t the rink on the other side an ice rink?”

Me: “Yup.”

Coworker: “If he had a problem with how slippery our floors are…”