I was a food runner at a Korean barbecue place. I had to give some meat to this middle-aged southeast Asian couple. I was surprised because I don’t see many southeast Asians around my area, and I was happy to see a fellow Southeast Asian.

When I gave them their food, I asked them what their ethnicity was.

Lady: “We’re Vietnamese.”

Me: “No way! There aren’t many southeast Asians here! I’m Lao and Filipino.”

Lady: “Oh, my! I haven’t met a Lao person before!”

Me: “Yeah, me, either. I only see them in my hometown.”

Lady: “Your hometown? Where are you from?”

Me: “I’m from [City]! I moved here because of university.”

Lady: “Oh, wow! You go to school and you work?”

Me: *Laughing* “Yeah, gotta pay for that tuition!”

After that, I had to go back to get more food. We waved and smiled a few times.

After the lady paid for their meal, she started asking my manager where I was. I went up to her and asked if she needed anything. She proceeded to ask for my name and what I was studying, etc. — just a nice conversation, which I didn’t expect.

She took my hand and put a $100 bill into it.

Lady: “I want you to enjoy school.”

I felt I was going to cry. It was so sweet. I thanked her so much and wished her well. Her husband was smiling, admiring the scene.

If that lady reads this, I just want to say thank you so much. You made my day that day. I wish the best for you!

I’m twenty, and I have been working in the restaurant business since I was fourteen. I have seen numerous amounts of people come and go, both customers and coworkers. About four years ago, I became a server at the local small business, and I thought I’d seen how far people really take things. 

About five months ago, I had a party come into my restaurant with two adults and three children. They sat down in my section, and I already had a bad feeling about them. At first, when I went to start them off with drinks, one of them was on the phone, and both of the adults completely ignored me. So I asked again what drinks they’d like, and the kids started screaming out drinks.

Me: *To the adults* “Is it okay to give them those?”

Mom: “Sure, whatever.”

Me: “Okay. What would you like to drink, ma’am?”

Still no answer. I brought the kids their drinks, and I brought the adults water just in case.

Mom: “Do the kids’ drinks come free with their meals?”

Me: “Yes, as long as you buy them kid’s meals.”

I then left them alone for a few minutes to look over the menu.

I went back about five minutes later and told them that the kitchen would be closing in about twenty minutes, just so they wouldn’t be blindsided. They ordered, and I continued serving others and cleaning up for closing.

I brought out their food and they started eating. Mind you, they got a meal for each kid — so their drinks were free since they all got fountain drinks — and the adults got two meals each plus two drinks each — drinks they asked other servers for, thinking I wouldn’t add them to the check.

I went to check on them halfway through, and they said they didn’t like the food, so I asked if something was wrong with it; it was half-eaten.

Mom: “No, I just don’t like it and I wanted to try it.”

This was for both of their second meals.

Me: “Okay. Would you like me to throw it out?”

Dad: “Yes.”

So, I did.

The meal went on, and I dropped off their checks. I knew they were going to have an issue with it since I hadn’t taken off the second meals.

They called me over.

Dad: “Why didn’t you take off those meals?!”

Me: “I don’t have the managers’ code to do that.”

I actually did.

They asked for a manager, who went over to talk to them.

Manager: “We don’t take food off if you just don’t like it!”

They weren’t very happy with that answer. Then, they complained that I pressured them to get more food — as if that’s not my job — and threatened to walk out, screaming.

Dad: “I’m not paying for this s*** food!”

Mom: “Go ahead and call the police on me!”

Dad: “You are making me look like the bad guy in front of my kids!”

We called the police, who forced them to pay, and they were trespassed.

They called and threatened my coworkers and me for days after.

I work in a hotel. When I got in one morning, I noticed that the night shift had checked in someone I knew to be on our Do Not Rent list. I figured they were going to be my pain in the a** that day. It didn’t say exactly why they were on the DNR, but I think they had been a pain in the a** at checkout time or something. And based on what follows, I’m probably right.

They were marked down for a 12:00 pm checkout, and the guy came up to the desk at about 11:35.

Guy: “We’d like to stay for another night.”

Me: “No problem. It’ll be $83 added to your total.”

I did this knowing they were on the DNR because it’s usually easier to let folks leave on their own than to fight with them and kick them out.

Guy: “I don’t have enough money. I need twenty more minutes.”

Me: “I can’t do that; the payment is already thirty-five minutes late. I need you to pay or check out.”

Guy: “I have a 12:00 pm checkout!”

Me: “Payment is due at 11:00. 12:00 pm checkouts are for people who need a little extra time in the room, not people who want to pay late.”

Normally, I might give folks a little wiggle room on things like this, but at this point, I was getting a pretty good feeling this dude was on the DNR because he’s a pain to get payment from.

He attempted to argue about this with me for another five minutes. He tried to go over my head and got angry with the fact that I was the manager on duty. I don’t know why he thought he was going to get a different answer from me when he asked the same question thirty times, but he did not. He insisted he only needed twenty minutes. In my years of experience in the business, that almost always means closer to two hours.

Finally, I told him:

Me: “You need to get your situation figured out in the next five minutes or you will have to check out.”

Guy: “Okay, fine.”

Ten minutes later, he still hadn’t paid.

I messaged [General Manager], who had been working on our rooms under renovation, that I was probably going to need backup.

She went to knock on the door. The guy’s girlfriend opened it barely a crack, and she also attempted to argue with [General Manager], who shut it down.

[General Manager] came back to the desk.

General Manager: “They were definitely smoking in the room.”

So, these folks, who were apparently having so much trouble getting the money they needed for the room, were just going to throw away their $50 deposit? All righty, then.

The guy finally came back like ten minutes later and insisted he’d only been gone five minutes. He cussed at me and then attempted to argue with [General Manager] that we couldn’t put him on the DNR for no reason.

General Manager: “Maybe you’re on there for cursing at staff.”

He did not have a response to that.

We checked the room once they were finally out and found ashes on the bed, and they left a plastic bag over the smoke alarm. So stupid.

I work in a restaurant. The other night, a woman and her six-person commune were seated at my table. They made it obvious that it was the birthday of one of the young teen girls in the group. She was very shy, and her mother often spoke over her and ordered for her, demanding that she got a to-go cup while everyone else had glasses.

They were fine and I did my best.

Toward the end of the meal, since they never asked about a birthday celebration, I brought them their check.

Mother: “Yeah, uh, it’s actually her birthday.”

She pointed at the teen girl who looked like she’d rather be anywhere else.

Mother: “We would like a birthday celebration.”

Our restaurant has a “birthday saddle”, and it’s very irritating to get everyone in place to do a celebration properly. That being said, I don’t mind doing the birthdays. If the birthday person honestly wants to get on the saddle and have a waitress make a ruckus to tell the restaurant that it’s their birthday, then THAT’S OKAY.

But the thing was that this girl didn’t want to have that attention on her, and I could see that. I even asked her straight-up if she wanted me to get the saddle, and she said no, she’d rather just eat.

Her mother then pointed her finger at me and puts on “the smile”. You know the one: the condescending “You effed up!” smile.

Mother: “Come here. Right now.”

I did, and she hissed in my ear:

Mother: “We made a reservation and called in advance to tell you that we wanted to celebrate her birthday. Now, either you or someone else get the saddle, or sing Happy Birthday, or something — I don’t care — but we will not be paying out until that happens.”

I did the quickest birthday celebration that I could without the saddle or the accompanying ice cream (which honestly is really, really gross, and I told them that). All of my coworkers could tell that I was absolutely shaken and pissed because I felt bad for this girl. Her voice was so small when I asked for her name that her mother ended up blurting it at me over her. She was turning fourteen that day.

Her mom paid and left a 13% tip, which was okay; I was honestly expecting to get nothing. But the cherry on top was that I found a $20 bill left after they left. I like to think someone at the table appreciated my effort to make EVERYONE comfortable. I’m there to serve you, not entertain you.

A woman and her family come into the family-owned local seafood eatery where I work. She immediately asks:

Woman: “Do you have the mango-papaya Mahi-mahi?”

Me: “No, I’m sorry. It’s a seasonal dish.”

Woman: “That’s the only reason I came here! Why don’t you have it?!”

Me: “Because it’s seasonal, ma’am. That means we only have it [time of year].”

Woman: “Well, if you can’t make it, you have to make something as close to it as possible.”

After much haranguing and cross-communication, the chef settles on a tilapia with mango salsa as the closest compromise.

After the food is delivered, the woman takes one bite.

Woman: “No, it just doesn’t taste the same. I think I’ll just have pasta instead.”

I take the plate back to the kitchen, and the chef is LIVID. He storms out and slams the plate back in front of the woman and goes off.

Chef: “We bent over backward in the kitchen to accommodate you! This is the only dish you’re getting tonight, and you’re paying for it!”

It must have done the trick because the woman just accepted her fate. She and her husband switched plates, and apparently, he thought it tasted awesome. They paid out and that was that.

On their way out, the woman asked when we would have the mango-papaya Mahi-mahi again, to which we had to explain for a third time what “seasonal” means.