(In the Netherlands, the “customer is always right” policy isn’t as strongly abided by as in the USA, and as a result, an employee can occasionally be rather frank toward customers. Essentially, employees aren’t about going above and beyond for every customer, but rather are encouraged to keep a shop running smoothly. Employees may occasionally bend the rules to be nice if you’re being nice to them, but if you’re mean, they are encouraged to stonewall you or simply refuse service, to keep the atmosphere of the store as a whole as positive as possible. I am working in the kitchen of a restaurant, just bringing some cleaned glasses to the counter, when I see a small line of people at the counter. About third in line is a visibly annoyed American woman who sees me and calls me over.)

Customer: “You! This service here is terrible. Come here!”

(I walk over.)

Customer: “Yes, I’ll have a—” *starts giving her order, but I just stand there listening to her, which seems to set her off more* “Well? What are you waiting for?!”

Me: “Well, I work in the kitchen, not at the counter. While it is nice to know what you’ll be ordering, it really isn’t something I can help you with. But no worries; you’re almost at the front and my colleagues will be happy to help you when it’s your turn.”

Customer: “Well, I have never been treated this poorly by any establishment! Do you know who I am?”

Me: “Not a clue. Do you know who I am?”

Customer: “I… What?”

Me: “Well, maybe we know each other and I just forgot. How do we know each other?”

Customer: “I have no clue who you are, but that—”

Me: “Well, then I guess we’re even! My colleagues will help you as soon as it’s your turn. Enjoy your meal!”

(And with that, I walked back to the kitchen. When the woman complained about me at the counter, my colleagues simply said that I was right, and audibly remarked among each other that people who attempt to skip the line are rude and annoying to deal with, while never really accusing her. My manager did tell me to hold back on the cheekiness a little, though.)

(I work in a restaurant in a small town. The customers are generally nice, but occasionally, some people like to be awkward. This particular threesome of elderly ladies has already been rude when seated. My coworker goes to take their drink order; they order the house red. All is well, and their drinks are delivered. A few minutes later, they call me over and complain that the red is not the same bottle as on the menu.)

Customer: “Excuse me. I ordered the house red but I have been given something else.”

Me: *picks up menu* “Let me just check that… See here, it is the same. The menu says, ‘house red, [some region I can’t spell], France.’ And here on the back of the label, it says the same thing.”

Customer: “Yes, but the front of the label says something different.”

Me: “Yes, ma’am, that’s the brand of the wine; as it is the house bottle, we only state the region on the menu, not the brand.”

Customer: “But it’s different…”

Me: “I can assure you it is not; however, I can get you another bottle if you like.”

Customer: “No, thanks. The menu is obviously incorrect; I won’t get what I order, anyway. This one will have to do, but I want it free because it’s a screw cap!”

(I just nodded and went to tell my manager what had happened. They didn’t get their free bottle and they did the same act at the end of their meal when they then ordered the house white. I never knew so much fuss over cheap wine.)

(I’m at a small, friendly, family-owned restaurant where we all know the owners and their children and some of their family, including an eight-year-old son. Also, they don’t do tips here. There are sheets of order forms on each table. One customer starts waving the order form and the boy comes over to take it.)

Customer: “No, kid.”

Boy: “My parents are the owners; I can take it to the kitchen.”

Customer: “Why do you work here? Why aren’t you in school?”

Boy: “It’s a half-day today and I’m just helping out.”

Me: “It’s okay; let [Boy] take it. We all know him.”

Customer: “Why would anyone let kids work here?”

Me: “He’s the owners’ youngest son.”

Customer: “And they put him to work already?”

Me: “No, he’s just helping because he is here. He doesn’t have hours or salary.”

Customer: “Then that’s just illegal. To have a kid work and also get no salary? Does he get tips?”

Me: “No, there are no tips here. Check the signs.”

(I’ve noticed the boy has gone to get his mom and returned.)

Mom: “Hi. My name is [Mom], and I’m own this place with my husband.”

Customer: “Why do you let your kid work here? For no pay! And no tips?!”

Mom: “Most of us working here are family, and we pay good salary. Also, my son isn’t exactly working here; he’s just helping us.”

Customer: “He’s still working!”

Mom: “Just helping. He can help as much or as little as he wants.”

(At this moment, a few other customers all chime in saying it’s fine.)

Customer: “This is ridiculous!”

(He stood up and just left.)

Me: your total is ________
Woman: my son wants me to ask if we could have a butt load of salsas.
Me: a butt load of salsas? Let me see if we have a butt load of salsas *trying to keep a straight face*
Woman: *starts laughing* we got the right girl to take our order today!
Boy: it was my brother in the back I swear! It wasn’t me!
Me: *I haND them their food* and in this small plastic bag is your butt load of salsas.
We all laugh!

(I am working the sauté pasta station at a buffet in a casino. There are four types of pasta, three types of meat, assorted vegetables and aromatics, and two standard sauces — marinara and alfredo — to customize your pasta. It’s not unusual for people to request two types of pasta in one dish.)

Customer: “Fettuccine linguine with chicken.”

Me: “What kind of sauce?”

Customer: “Fettuccine linguine and chicken.”

Me: “What kind of sauce?”

Customer: “FETTUCCINE LINGUINE AND CHICKEN!”

Me: “WHAT KIND OF SAUCE?”

Customer: “OH, MY GOD! HOW STUPID CAN YOU BE?! I SAID FETTUCCINE LING… ALFREDO! CRAP, I MEANT ALFREDO!”

Me: *passive aggressively prepares his pasta with both fettuccine and linguine*