I worked at an indie movie theater. I was enjoying a nice, fancy dinner with my husband when someone at the table next to me recognized me.

After a brief, but friendly acknowledgment, the guy thought that it was an appropriate time to quiz me.

Man: “Hey, can you tell me what movies you’re showing, and what they’re about?”

I work at a breakfast restaurant, and today I have a couple probably in their early twenties at one of my tables. It’s raining, and they’re seated on the covered patio. I get them some drinks, and they want time to look at the menu. The girl gets up and goes to the bathroom looking really upset, but I think maybe she just really had to go and don’t think anything of it.

When the girl gets back to the table, I take their order and she orders a latte as well as food. I bring the drink out and she is crying. Her boyfriend is kneeling next to her squeezing her hand and looking genuinely supportive. I drop the drink off, don’t acknowledge the crying, and keep serving.

At my restaurant, we’re able to give away three pancakes a day to any table. I decide to send her a pancake. She ordered her benedict with gluten-free toast, so I order the gluten-free version of one of our best pancakes.

They get their meals and seem good. Then, her pancake comes out a few minutes later so I take it out.

Me: “This pancake is gluten-free, and it’s one of my favorites. It has white chocolate chips, caramel and vanilla sauce, pecans, cinnamon butter, and the best part: bacon crumble. And it’s on me today!”

Girl: “Oh, thank you so much! Thank you! I’m sorry for making things awkward by crying. I was having a panic attack.”

Me: “It doesn’t matter. Everything is totally fine! I just thought a pancake would help.”

The rest of the meal was normal. I gave them boxes and cashed them out. They left me $20 on a $40 tab, and on the top of the bill, the girl wrote, “Your kindness made all the difference. Thank you.”

I love my job. I love the interactions that brighten both my days and my guests. I love being a friend for forty minutes of someone’s life. Today was incredible and reminds me why I chose this job.

I am a cook in a restaurant that has a display kitchen, meaning that you can see me if you are in the dining room. To reach the display kitchen, you have to walk through the bar and cocktail lounge. We are still under health restrictions that prevent us from using the full capacity of our dining room; hence, our menu is limited to a smaller number of items than usual. There is still a decent variety of items on it.

A woman comes bustling into the restaurant, ignores the bartender and servers who try to offer to help her, and comes up to me.

Me: “Hi, can I—”

Customer: “Do you have food? Where’s your menu? Let me see a menu.”

I step over to the bar, grab a menu, and return and hand it to her.

Customer: “This is all?”

Me: “Yes, ma’am. Our menu is limited as we are not yet able to open fully.”

Customer: “Ugh! Fine!”

She looks at the menu for a few moments.

Customer: “What is this? What does POD stand for?”

Me: “That’s our Pizza of the Day. Today’s is—”

Customer: “WHAT?! Y’ALL GOT PIZZA?! AAAUUUGHH!”

She throws her head backward and her arms up, then waves her arms down at her sides in a very exaggerated display of frustration, and then practically runs out the door.

Me: “I’m… sorry we have pizza?”

We also had appetizers, salads, pasta, and sandwiches. I’m still not sure why pizza being included was so anger-inducing.

The ordering system in my bar and restaurant is pretty flexible. I can enter details like allergies or custom requests, and the chef knows exactly what they want just by reading it. Sometimes, though, it gets colourful.

I’m serving a family of four.

Me: “Welcome! Can I take your order?”

Mum: “Yes, chicken wings, please, with buffalo sauce.”

Dad: “Chicken wings, BBQ sauce.”

Daughter: *Hesitantly* “Sticky toffee pudding.”

Me: “You’d like the dessert?”

Daughter: “Yes, that’s fine.”

Son: “The cheeseboard, to share!”

That’s a dessert, too. It comes in two sizes: small, meant for one person, and large, shared between two.

Me: “All right, thank you!”

I go to enter it into the till, and the manager appears.

Boss: “Hey, [My Name], we’re out of chicken wings.”

I take two menus back to the table.

Me: “I’m afraid we’re out of the chicken wings. Can I get you something else?”

Mum & Dad: “We’ll have one well-done steak, shared between us, please.”

I confirm the order and put it through, but I know the chef won’t believe it. I go to the kitchen. He’s holding the docket that printed out, looking confused.

Me: “Hey, chef? Can I talk you through that order?”

Chef: “Err, please do.”

Me: “I know it looks like two courses, but send it all together. The steak is for Mum and Dad to share, the sticky toffee pudding is for the daughter, and the cheeseboard is for the son, not actually shared. So, I’ll be sending two side plates and two steak knives with the steak. The cheeseboard is definitely the big one, but with no side plates and only one cheese knife.”

Chef: “I’m glad you explained that. Weirdest order for the whole of Christmas, but if that’s what they want!”

I explained it to the manager, too, or there would have been mistakes serving it. They left us a good review.

I’m a delivery driver who uses an app for food delivery. One order has me going to this plaza where there are a lot of offices. I find the right one and the instructions say to leave the food by the door, but there are a lot of random people around, so I go in.

I see no one, so I leave the food on a desk near the door, put a note saying where I left it, and leave.

Later, I find out that the customer was mad because she wanted me to leave it outside where the people were! It could’ve been stolen!

You can’t win.