(I work at a take-away restaurant. It’s already afternoon, ten minutes until closing time. The whole day has been really busy, and my coworker and I are trying to keep up with the work as best as we can. I am currently at the other side of the store, cleaning, when I see that a couple has entered and is waiting at the counter. Immediately I put my broom aside and rush over to them, quickly washing my hands on the way.)

Me: *trying to catch my breath* “Hello!” *inhale* “Good evening!” *inhale* “Excuse me.” *clearing my throat and putting on a welcoming smile* “What can I get for you?”

(The couple gives me a strange looks. Then, the man comes closer to the counter, dramatically imitating my panting, while looking at me as if I am some kind of degenerated monkey.)

Customer: *HUFF HUFF HUFF* “Are you finished yet, or do we have to wait some more time until we can place our order?”

(They then bought two small sandwiches and proceeded to stay way past closing time, leaving a huge mess behind.)

(I am seventeen, waitressing for a small-town restaurant run by a family. The only people that work there besides me are the two male owners and their four sons of various ages. I am the only girl. It’s a really small town, full of older people, so I often am requested just because I am female, or given winks and stuff from older gentlemen, which I normally just ignore.)

Male Customer: *in his late 50s* “Nice legs. When do they open?”

(I then “accidentally” spill hot coffee on his leg.)

Me: “Oh! I’m so sorry; let me get you a towel.”

(I run to the back while listening to the guy start cursing loudly in the dining room. Both owners and all the brothers come over and ask what happened. I explain, and they all drop what they are doing and go out to the dining room to the customer. They crowd around him and then tell him to get out. They tell him that they don’t care about what I did because he deserved it.)

My Next Table: “Wow. You must be the sister.”

Me: “Nope.”

(I love that family.)

(I work as a busboy in a restaurant. I’m at a table filling the water glasses.)

Customer: *reading the menu* “Oh, look, they have Bring Your Own Burger! You bring the meat in and they’ll cook it for you!”

(I start to laugh, thinking he’s joking.)

Customer: *glances at me* “Well, it says, ‘BYO Burger.’ Isn’t that what it means?”

Me: *realizing he’s serious, but still laughing* “No, sir, it means, ‘Build Your Own.'”

(I am a server. It’s not an easy gig by any means, and I always try to add a little humor to get myself through a shift while creating a positive dining experience. Each server does what we can to help the others out, especially if we are in the weeds. One of my coworkers asks if I can help deliver a dessert to one of her tables while she is finishing up a few of her other tables. I grab the dessert and walk it out to the guests.)

Me: “All right, who feels like a molten?!”

(Almost everyone at the table raises the hands amidst comments like, “Right here!” and “ME!”)

Me: “Well, good news! No one looks like one… BUT THIS DOES!”

(I pull the plate up, spin it on my finger — very carefully while keeping a hand near it — stop it, and put it on the table.)

Me: “Enjoy!”

Man At Table: “Thank you!”

(I’m smiling, they’re smiling, and I head toward the kitchen to finish up a few things before I go home, having no more tables, and see my coworker standing there, wide-eyed with her mouth open.)

Coworker: “What did you say to them?!”

Me: “What? Who?”

Coworker: “My table! What did you say to them when you gave them the molten?!”

Me: “Oh, it’s an old joke. I asked who felt like a molten, and said you don’t look like one, and gave it to them.”

Coworker: “Oh, my God! I can’t believe you said that! Are they pissed?”

Me: “Why would they be pissed off?”

Coworker: “Because… that sounded so racist!”

Me: *extremely confused* “Wh… uh… Why is it racist?”

Coworker: “Because they’re black!”

Me: “I don’t get it.”

Coworker: “Well, I’ll make sure they’re okay in a little bit. You have to be careful with things like that! It comes across racist!”

(She stormed away, leaving me more confused today than at the time. I don’t get how it could possibly have been considered racist at all.)

(I’m working in a small family-run Chinese restaurant where I’m the only non-family employee and am also the only white employee. An African American customer comes in with his wife and children to pick up a take out order. Unfortunately, there was an error made in their order; we were busy so mistakes do happen. The customer has been beligerent since coming to the counter. Regardless, it is our screw up and I want to do everything I can to make it right:)

Me: “I’m very sorry about the mix up! I’ve got the kitchen fixing your order and made sure it’s getting done first before anything else being made. It should only be a few moments; if you’d like to have a seat it’ll be out shortly.”

Customer: “Well I think I should get something since you people screwed up!”

Me: “Yes, sir, we’ve already included some free egg rolls with your order to hopefully say sorry.”

Customer: “What about while we’re waiting? What about something to drink?”

Me: “No problem. I can get you some ice tea for you all.”

Customer: “Fine, you do that.”

(I go get iced tea for him, his wife, and his three kids – who by the way have been tearing up our seating area. As I’m walking away to go get their order the customer decides to add this parting zinger.)

Customer: “Yeah, a white boy like you must not be used to dealing with black people!”

Me: *as calmly and politely as I can manage* “Sir, I’ve never had any problem with a person because of race, religion, sexuality or other. I’m sure our other customers would agree—” *indicating our dining room with a fairly diverse crowd* “—I’m sure the people who know me would agree! Please enjoy your drinks and I’ll be right back with your order.”