No Room For Your Kind At The Table

| Lubbock, TX, USA | Right | April 11, 2017

(I work as a server at a restaurant on nights and weekends. On Sunday, during the after-church rush, a short, angry woman with three young kids in tow barges past the host and grabs my arm as I am walking to a table.)

Woman: “YOU! Tell me what this disgrace is.”

Me: *confused, trying to pull my arm away* “Uh, I’m sorry? What seems to be the trouble?”

Woman: *tightens her grip* “I want you to tell me WHY someone is at MY table!”

Me: “Did you have a reservation for today? We’re pretty booked because of the holiday. If there’s been a mix-up we can fix it.”

Woman: “Of course I didn’t! I shouldn’t need to. I come here every Sunday–” *I have never seen this woman in my life* “–and I always sit right there! Why have you allowed those tramps to steal it from me?” *she points at the ladies at “her” table*

Me: “Ma’am, those ladies have been seated there for a while, and they got here first. We don’t reserve individual tables outside of our party room.”

Woman: *finally letting go of my arm to throw her hands in the air* “Well, what kind of customer service is this? Go get your manager!”

Me: “If you insist, ma’am.”

(I ask my host to call the manager over as I am not supposed to stop serving unless there is an emergency, and this is not one. When I turn back around, this woman has gone over to the ladies at ‘her’ table and began to yell at them.)

Woman: “Why are you [homophobic slurs] sitting at MY table?!”

Lady #1: “We’re sisters, and we got here first. Back off, lady; we’re trying to eat!”

(I quickly rush over.)

Me: “Ma’am, I can’t allow you to yell at other patrons. These ladies have done nothing wrong.”

Woman: “I told you to get your manager! Where is he?”

Me: “Ma’am, she’s coming. In the meantime please let these ladies enjoy their dinner in peace.”

Woman: “You let these [slurs] eat in your restaurant, AND steal my table?” *turning to the sisters* “This is Trump’s America and you are not welcome!”

Manager: “Ma’am, enough! I need you to stop yelling at these people and leave. Anyone is welcome here, but you aren’t welcome to harass our patrons as you please.”

Woman: “Corporate will hear about this from me!” *turning to stare coldly at me* “I will have your job.”

Kid #1: “Mommy, if we have to leave then where are we eating now? I’m hungry.”

Woman: “I don’t know, sweetie. This mean [homophobic slur] wants you to starve.”

Me: *as an actual gay man, shocked into silence*

Woman: *smiling wickedly back at me while leaving* “Better find another job soon!”

Lady #2: “Thank you for getting her away from us.”

(My manager offered them free desserts and we never did hear from corporate. My manager actually let me have an extended break and I got a pretty big tip from the sisters for handling her well, too.)

Was Looking For A Dog-Gone Reason To Complain

| Loveland, CO, USA | Right | April 10, 2017

(I am a cashier at a well-known buffet chain. A customer comes in and starts walking up the side of the front with no cashier.)

Customer: “This side is free.”

Me: “No, but I will gladly ring you up over here.”

Customer: “Oh, well, I am actually here to start a job.”

(The customer is in no way dressed to be one of our employees but I go to get a manager anyway when he stops me.)

Customer: “No, I’m not really. Three, please.”

(From there things go normally. I ring him and his friends on one of his friend’s cards. They go on their way in. Not long after that another family comes in with a service dog. I ring them through and so after, the original customer comes up to me)

Customer: “Excuse me; I have a question for you.”

Me: “Yes, how may I help you?”

Customer: “Do you guys allow dogs in here?”

(Knowing what dog he is talking about I give him a reply.)

Me: “Service dogs, yes.”

Customer: “That’s bull-s***. I want my money back.”

(Not wanting to argue, I proceed to call a manager to the front. The one who comes is our general manager, an ex-army man. I explain the situation to him and he goes to talk to the guy)

Customer: “This is f****** bull-s***! How can you allow dogs to be in a place where people eat?”

Manager: “Sir, first of all watch your language; there are kids here. And second, we have to allow service dogs in here; it is the law.”

Customer: “It’s bull-s***! What if the dog’s hair gets in the food?!”

Manager: “What if human hair gets in the food? Should I ban all humans?”

Customer: “Okay, well, what if I walk around barefoot?”

Manager: “You can’t. it’s not allowed.”

Customer: “But a dog can?”

Manager: “Yes.”

Customer: “So a dog has more rights than I do?”

Manager: “Yes, he does.”

Customer: “This is bull-s***!”

(The customer then goes back to his table but the manager has had enough, especially with the swearing, and goes and tells the guy he needs to leave, now. It is decided since he hasn’t been here very long we would at least refund him his meal. When refunding meals back onto a card most of the time the same card required to be swiped again to put the money back. Luckily, since it was still so soon after he ate, it just reversed the charge.)

Customer: “Where’s my money?”

Me: “It is back on the card it was rung on, sir.”

Customer: “But where is my money?!”

Manager: “Sir, it is back on your friend’s card. You are not getting cash back.”

(The customer then started to leave but not without telling everyone he passed that there was a dog in the building. Everyone in line either looked confused or just didn’t care.)

Customer Complaint Escalating Into A Perfect Storm

| Philadelphia, PA, USA | Right | April 9, 2017

(I work in catering for a popular local restaurant and schedule deliveries throughout the region, mostly for businesses. On this day we’re preparing for a massive winter storm to hit overnight. I’m calling customers to reschedule the next day’s deliveries. I call an office at a very prestigious university to ask when they’ll be rescheduling their meeting.)

Me: “…so we’re just calling to see if you already have another date for your order or if you just want it placed on file until you do.”

Customer: “So you’re telling me I can’t have my order tomorrow?”

Me: “If possible we’ll get out any orders that are still needed, but the way things are looking now it’s doubtful.”

Customer: “Well, why?”

Me: “I’m sure you’ve seen, they’re calling for record-breaking snowfall tonight. If the storm is anywhere near as bad as they’re predicting we won’t be open tomorrow and won’t be sending out any deliveries.”

Customer: “So, I’m not going to have any food for my meeting?”

Me: “Honestly, I doubt you’ll even have a meeting. Half the colleges in the area have already announced shut-downs, so [University] will probably close tomorrow, too.”

Customer: “This is a very important meeting; they won’t cancel it. I don’t see why you can’t get my order here.”

Me: “Sir, we do everything possible to accommodate our customers. But if there is over a foot of snow tonight I can’t ask a delivery driver to risk their safety to drive down there for the sake of your lunch. If there is no storm we will get you your sandwiches, but right now I don’t think that will be an option. I’m actually leaving work right after this call because the city is already shutting down the trains. So do you have a date you would like me to reschedule for, or should I just keep the order on file for now?”

Customer: “Just keep the order in for tomorrow!”

(I left work early to avoid being stranded. An hour later I got a text from my manager to let me know that the customer had called back because the university had cancelled all operations. He was, obviously, completely unapologetic. And his “very important” meeting was just a routine monthly budget update for his department.)

Not So Dosa Docile

| USA | Right | April 9, 2017

(It’s spring break and I’m working as a cook at a family friend’s Indian restaurant for free as a favor for the week because I’m a student. Most of the chefs working at the restaurant are Indians that just immigrated here, and they don’t like to talk back because their English isn’t great and they fear getting into trouble. It’s a Friday night and because it’s spring break, there are a lot of people, so many so that there’s a wait to be seated. The restaurant specializes in dosas, which are like crepes, except made of rice batter and black gram. Most people like to add onions or chills to them. It’s also a restaurant that lets you see the chefs making your food.)

Customer: *orders his dosa with onions and then walks over to the counter to watch me cook*

Me: *puts the batter on the pan and then adds the onions, like usual*


Me: *taken aback by his tone, but decides to do what he says* “I’m sorry sir. I’ll make it again.”

(I have to dump out the batter I was using because it would be burnt in the amount of time it takes to fry the onions.)

Me: *fries the onions separately then puts it on fresh batter*


Me: *losing my patience at this point* “Sir, there are a lot of customers behind you and I don’t have time to make your order again. If you don’t like the way we cook the food, you’re happy to make it yourself on your own time at home.”


Me: *at this point, my patience is completely gone* “I’m an American citizen, so it’s highly unlikely that I’ll be sent back to India for not satisfying your dietary needs. Keep yelling, and I’ll kick you out, or better yet, file a harassment claim.”

Customer: *still not getting it* “HOW DARE YOU! I WANT TO TALK TO THE MANAGER!”

(Before I can respond, the owner comes out to see what’s going on.)

Owner: “I’m the owner. Is there a problem?”


Owner: *looks at me* “[My Name], is that true?”

Me: “No, I—”

Customer: *interrupts* “SHE’S LYING. THE LITTLE B**** JUST WANTS TO KEEP HER JOB!”

Owner: “I’m going to have to ask you to leave. First of all, [My Name] doesn’t even work here officially. She’s just helping out as a favor. And second, I don’t serve customers who swear at my employees anyway. So, are you going to leave or do I have to call the police?”

Customer: *thinks for a moment before storming out of the restaurant, still visibly angry*

(And the kicker? He was making such a fuss over an order worth just six dollars.)

Intolerant Of Your Gluten-Tolerance

| Italy | Working | April 8, 2017

(I’m ten, and have been diagnosed celiac for two years. The first gluten-free certified pizza place has opened in my city, and as an Italian, it’s quite a big deal for me to be able to eat non-frozen pizza again. I’m still afraid it won’t taste any good so my father order a gluten- free pizza too, to keep me company. The waitress has taken our food orders, and is asking about the drinks.)

Dad: “I’ll have a medium blonde beer.”

Waitress: “I’m sorry, sir, but we don’t serve any gluten free beers.”

Dad: “Oh, it’s not a problem; I didn’t want one. I’ll have a normal one.”

Waitress: “It has gluten in it. It’s harmful for you.”

Dad: “Ah, no, I’m not celiac.” *he points at me* “She is. I just want to know how her pizza taste like.”

Waitress: *raises an eyebrow, clearly not believing him* “Sorry, sir, but I can’t serve you a beer! You can’t drink it!”

Dad: *in a very sarcastic voice* “Okay, not a problem. I’ll drink nothing, however my wife will have a Radler AND a medium blonde beer.”


(The pizza was very good, but surprisingly we didn’t come back!)

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