The Milk Of Human Weirdness

| MN, USA | Right | June 5, 2015

(I work in a small-town at one of the three restaurants that the residents have to choose from, so we get a lot of regulars. One regular in particular comes on a near daily basis and has always seemed generally friendly and polite, if not a little bit strange. Nevertheless, he knows all the employees there very well and often chats with us while he’s in the store. One day he decides to have story time.)

Customer: “Oh, yes, it’s been rather lonely ever since my wife died.”

Me: “Oh! I’m so sorry for your loss!”

Customer: “Yeah, I miss her a lot. She was a very kind, accommodating woman. Shortly after she had our daughter she began breastfeeding her, so I asked her if I could breastfeed off of her for sexual pleasure.”

(I was very thrown-off by this and really disturbed. The only people in the store were me and this regular along with another coworker of mine who was out back smoking. That meant I didn’t even have anyone to distract me or change the topic of conversation as I was too shocked into silence to do so myself. He continued to ramble on, unaware of my horror.)

Customer: “It was completely consensual. We both found it very satisfying. And long after our daughter got older, my wife, God bless her, kept lactating because I was breastfeeding off of her so much. She kept producing milk until the day she died.”

Me: “That’s… really, uh…”

Customer: “She was a rather large woman, bless her heart.”

(My coworker had come back in and saw that I was red in the face and was slightly confused by my look of obvious discomfort, considering I was serving a regular who we all liked and knew well. She decided to listen in to see what was up.)

Customer: “I know this isn’t something you’d typically say in public or anything, but I figure we know each other well enough.”

Me: “Um… ”

(My coworker seemed to know that he must’ve said something to freak me out and quickly jumped in.)

Coworker: “Hey, if you want I can finish his sandwich so you can go do that… thing.”

(I practically sprinted into the back room. Later, I explained to my co-worker what he had said and she was as horrified as I was. The icing on the cake is that I get to see him nearly every single day. Every. Single. Day.)

The Devil Makes You Cry

| USA | Working | June 4, 2015

(I really hate onions, so whenever there is a dish with onions, I ask to have them removed. I hate them so much that I even have a special name for them.)

Waitress: “What’ll you have?”

Me: “I’ll have the veggie fajitas without onions please.”

Waitress: “No onions? But that’s the best part.”

Me: “Not for me they’re not. I hate onions…  They’re the devil’s fruit!”

Waitress: *pauses for a moment* “What religion are you?!”

It’s Oui-Si To Understand

| Minneapolis, MN, USA | Right | June 2, 2015

Customer: “I want to order something off the menu, but everything is really hard to say and I don’t speak Spanish.”

(We’re a French restaurant, with the word ‘French’ in our name.)

With No Bacon, Comes Irresponsibility

| OR, USA | Working | June 1, 2015

(There is a restaurant in my town with great burgers but every time I go there something goes wrong with my order. Shortly after getting my order I flagged down a waitress to try and get it fixed.)

Me: “Excuse me, ma’am, there’s a small problem with my order.”

Waitress: “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Me: “Well… there is. I ordered the bbq bacon burger. And there’s no bacon.”

Waitress: “So?”

Me: “Well… I would like my bacon.”

Waitress: “You didn’t ask for bacon. It doesn’t come with bacon.”

Me: “But… it does. I’ve had it before. It has bacon in the name.”

Waitress: “IT DOESN’T COME WITH BACON. You have to ASK if you want something added on. We’re not psychic!”

Me: “Can you please just get me a couple of strips of bacon for this?”

(She went stomping off and returned with a plate with two soggy strips of bacon, slammed it on the table and left. When I got my bill she had charged me extra for the ‘add-on.’)

Gramps Is Smiling On You This Day

| Tartu, Estonia | Right | May 31, 2015

(A very elderly man with flowers on his walker comes in and orders his food. I take a lot of effort to make sure he gets exactly what he wants because he reminds me of my great-grandpa, who has just passed away. After making his food, I help him find a spot for it in this basket on the walker. As he walks to the door I walk to go back to my register but I realize the door will be too heavy. I run to the door and open it for him.)

Customer: *with a smile that reminds me just of Gramps* “That is the nicest thing you could ever do for me.”

Me: “It’s my pleasure, sir.”

(And that moment, Lady and Gents, made my job have some real meaning for the first time.)

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