I ordered some Chinese food from my favorite restaurant to be delivered; it was an all-you-can-eat buffet.

I’d never had any problems with the food before but this time, it looked like it had been sitting in a refrigerator for weeks. The spare ribs sauce had crystallized in the bottom of the plastic container, there was brown goo inside the vegetables, and there were small specs of mold on the egg rolls, among other things. I called the Health Department right away and they came later that day and picked up the food to analyse it. They did not give me the results when they called the next day but told me that they were about to make a surprise inspection in the restaurant. They closed the place down for two weeks. 

When the restaurant reopened, I went back a couple of times to eat there but felt sort of guilty that they had to close for two weeks because of me; I know it’s stupid! A few months later, I learned that the Health Department closed the place down for good following another surprise inspection. I stopped feeling guilty after that because I understood that even without my complaint, the restaurant was bound to close anyway; it just happened sooner than later.

(It’s been extremely hot lately and our ice machine is broken. Obviously, whenever someone orders cold drinks, we tell them that it’s impossible as politely as possible. A lady walks up to my counter with someone already on her trail waiting patiently in line.) 

Me: “Bonjour, Hi! How can I help you?”

Customer: “Uh… Hi.” *staring at the menu* “I’ll get… a Frappe… with the…”

Me: *to avoid going any further* “Um, excuse me? Unfortunately, I can’t make smoothies right now since my ice machine is broken. Actually, I can’t make anything cold, sorry.”

Customer: “Oh! Well, then I guess I’ll get an iced coffee.” 

Me: “Er… well, I can’t. My ice machine is broken, unfortunately.”

Customer: “Oh! Right! Well, I guess I’ll have to have an iced latte!”

(I feel like asking the woman if she is completely daft.)

Me: “Ma’am… please listen to me. We cannot make anything cold. No cold drinks, smoothies, or otherwise.” 

Customer: “Ew! Never mind, then!” 

(The girl leaves, and the person behind her, who’s been staring at our exchange the whole time, looks straight into my eyes.) 

Customer #2: “Um… Can I get an iced cappuccino?”

(I receive a phone call from someone claiming an arrest warrant under my name is in effect. I’ve heard often about this scam, but it’s the first time I’ve actually gotten the call. So, I decide to have fun.)

Caller: “We are calling to inform you that an arrest warrant will be issued against you…”

Me: “Yeah, I know!”

Caller: “You knew?”

Me: “Of course! The trial already started two days ago. I am escorted by the police every morning to get there! Why are you telling me this today?”

Caller: “The trial?”

Me: “Yeah, with the judge and my lawyer and the jury. Why are you calling?”

Caller: *now hesitating* “Well, there is another warrant for…”

Me: *cutting him* “The police already told me that other charges will be added, and I already told them about what I did to that man in the hotel room.”

Caller: “…”

Me: “…”

Caller: *hangs up*

(I just hope they will call again. It was so fun!)

This story is part of the Phone Scam Payback roundup!

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(This story takes place when I’m about six months old and going to Nova Scotia with my parents. We board the plane and notice that our seats are separated, which would leave six-month-old me alone with a stranger.)

Mom: “Excuse me, sir, but my six-month-old son is sitting next to you and I have a seat away from him. If you could go to my seat so I can sit next to my son, I would be very grateful.”

(The seats are identical.)

Man: “Nope, I paid good f****** money for this f****** seat, and I won’t have some needy b**** taking it!”

Mom: *calmly* “Well, I’m terribly sorry for this, but if you feel so strongly about this then you’ll have to take care of my son. He likes to eat food from [Brand] at six o’clock and needs to be rocked to sleep. Do not feed him peanuts, because he is very allergic to them. Do you understand?”

(The man, speechless, moves to the seat that my mom suggested to him.)

Mom: “Was that so hard?”

(The man gave us dirty looks for the rest of the flight, and once the flight was over, he started to insult us once more until my 6’1” Italian father came in and asked him to take a hike.)

It’s Thursday night — the dreaded “DOLLAR BEER!” night. No one likes working this vomit fest, but it doesn’t affect me tonight since I’m tucked up safely behind the line in the kitchen, cooking. It’s about 8:00 pm and I’ve just finished an epic rush. I wander out to the bar to grab a pint before retreating to my sanctuary.

It’s comparatively quiet out in the bar since the students and the kids — who I assure you are 18 and over — haven’t turned up yet. On my way to the bar, I pass a table with two early starters in their mid-twenties. They have their tray of twenty plastic cups of cheap and nasty “beer” set out before them and are preparing to launch, so they’re still one hundred percent sober and have no excuse for what follows.

As I pass them, one says to the other, “Dude, that guy over there; I totally recognize him!” and points to an empty table by the wall across from them. I am baffled and pause in my stride.

“Yeah, man… Wasn’t he in the last Batman movie?”

I finally figure out that they’re pointing at a large framed poster of Mahatma Gandhi. In all seriousness, they thought Gandhi had a support role in The Dark Knight Rises. He really can perform miracles. God does move in mysterious ways… It’s true.